The Fabric of our Lives [Seditdraah]

[Trista]

(Flashback) 502 AV. Winter.

Most Akvatari were artists, of course. Many of them were extraordinarily dedicated artists. But even by the standards of her race, Trista's wild-eyed hunger for knowledge regarding art of any kind was impressive.

Though she would not have said that she knew everything -- or even most things -- about her own fields: drawing and painting, dulcimer, poetery -- she did consider herself at least well-educated for her age. But there were plenty of artistic genres, styles, and media about which she knew very little, and when she encountered one of these, it roused her curiosity.

So it was that she knocked on Seditdraah's door. Were he to open it, he would be greeted by a solemn-looking fifteen-year-old hovering in place. Her hair was a bright red, and her eyes, wings, and even fur were a silky blue.

"Seditdraah?" She had seen the older Akvatari before, but never actually spoken to him. "Forgive the intrusion, please. I'm Trista, and I'd heard that you were an artist working in textiles? I was wondering if you'd be willing to show me some of your work -- if not now, then perhaps some time in the future?"