Same people.
Different idiots.
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Meho mourned a vanished troupe of entertainers, then brought out a long lecture on keeping old roads worth walking. She had the look of someone who had found a sensible plank in a sea of bad carpentry.
Summoneyy seized on the pleasant notion that a person might return years later and find their old place still standing. Then she asked where our Village actually is, which is a fair question after swearing loyalty to a name for eternity. Elwynn or Darkshore were proposed; apparently a village need not contain houses, only a sufficiently sentimental road.
I said nothing, because once men begin choosing a homeland for an inn-sign, they will shortly be arguing over the view from a window nobody has built.