<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ccff99">It was once a week, but it was progress. It was something. Something she could look at and say ‘here is a point i know i got better.’ she took a deep breath, and smiled softly.</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#a6ff4d"> “Alright.”</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ccff99"> she wished he’d give her permission to go to the workroom on her own, to practice that until she could get it. To keep making the same sphere over and over again until she finally was able to do it right, the way he wanted it. But once a day was at least something.</span>