Isato

Isato, who was hand-sewing an intricate pattern into the skirt of what looks to be a ballgown, looks up at you surprised. Her surprise is quickly replaced by a soft, if not shy, smile.

"Oh, you know..." She lets the sentence hang in the air for a moment. She looks back at her work as she continues. "Does any artist take inspiration from just a single source? Do we all not take inspiration from the world around us in our day-to-day lives?"

She stops sewing and looks up, past you, dreamily. "Do we all not see the world's flowers and wish to capture their beauty forever on canvas? Do we all not see the way a gorgeous Fae twirls her frail wings and wish to emulate her? Do we all not feel the soft touch of a lover, and wish to replicate their caress in the gentle sway of fabric?

"Take this dress, for example," she suddenly cuts, focusing on you again. "I hand dyed the fabric myself. On the edge of a corn field we passed in a few weeks ago--over by the Sundial Terrace--they had these gorgeous irises growing on the edge of the fields, in these colors. I don't think I quite captured the exact colors, but that's the suffering and sacrifice you must make as an artist, right?

"As for the pattern, I was inspired by a church I visited in water territory some time ago. You see, on the windows, they had these beautiful--" she continues to ramble for quite some time, not much paying attention to how much focus you're giving her during the conversation.