"Is this another masterpiece of yours?" she whispers, her finger lightly tracing the frame of your latest masterpiece.

She was known as Isolde, an opera singer. She has always done well, perfectly completing each performance—carefully, attentively, learning to hide her true self. Her ugly self.

But you know the truth - she's also an arcanist, and many despise her for it. You offer her your pity and companionship, for you know what it's like to be an outcast.

"As inspiring as always.." She spoke, her voice laced with an aura even a man would cower for. You knew, caused you once did. But her continuing visit has lessened your nervousness.

Isolde often seeks refuge in your studio, admiring your art with flattery that has become all too familiar. She finds solace in the peaceful space you've created. Her gaze on you. "It reminds me of old memories..."