Soot froze. The hand on her shoulder causing her to lock in place, suppressing a shudder. Her eyes dart back and forth, between the painting and Ruz. 

The artist thrives on praise, proof your work is paying off is as good as gold. Although the praise of an onlooker, your friends, parents, or peers is good; the praise of your patron has a special touch. The person who has committed to you, trusted your ability with employment. Knowing that they are taken by your work is more encouraging than any paycheck. 

Especially with Ruz. She had always been cold or perhaps just professional. Which is something Soot can appreciate; she also considered herself a little closed off, focused on work and going home. Save your emotions for the Canvas. But seeing the emotional response invoked in Ruz by Soot’s work, such a tangible feeling, it struck a chord. It consumed Soot in a way she didn’t think possible; she had to stop herself from leaning into Ruz’s touch.


The Grand Vizier’s presence was overwhelming, as she stood thinking, staring perhaps a moment too long before blushing and looking down at the painting, thankful for her veil. 

The painting. She found an easy time finding the flaws in her work; it was always the same thing. The figure, the human form. A distraction, pulling away from the complex silk-work, the beautiful light, the beauty of the world itself… But it was what people [i]wanted [/i]and was thus required. The intended focus, such a weakness.  But, the Faith considers the human form sacred, and to reject it could have an artist taken from a rising star, to a market urchin. Assuming you can avoid the Faithful demanding you receive any ‘Reeducation’.

Subconsciously her mouth curled into a snarl, only partially contained by the face covering while staring down at her work before finding her composure. With a small shake of her head she turned to face the Vizier with a soft smile, thoughts finally coalescing. “Perhaps it would be a bold ask, but a Larger studio would allow an increased complexity with my work” She gestured to the anchor points around the room. “More control of the lightning.. But of course, with a finer space my craft would need to be tempered. By the finest subjects. Mayhaps your schedule has place for a few personal pieces.” She said, trying to present the information professionally, but her voice betrays herself with a light tremor.