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Someone walking into the Sensoriums today will find themselves in an old-style pottery workshop, likely set somewhere in Japan judging by the shōji-style doorways.

There they'll also find Kazuki, deep in concentration as he works at the potter's wheel, working at a lump of clay to try to make it into something interesting.

Even though he still has trouble seeing, just the sounds, the smells, and the general feeling he gets from this place back home--even if it is only an imitation--puts him more at ease.

He continues to work at the clay with his hands, but, obviously not pleased with his work so far (his lack of experience contributing just as much as his lack of sight to this problem), frowns and mashes the clay back into a solid lump, starting over from the beginning.

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He's starting simply, just trying to make a small bowl.

It goes well at first, making a small hole in the top of the lump of clay, using the spinning of the wheel to open the hole up to be the inside of the bowl.

It isn't until he tries to thin out the walls of the bowl that it gets difficult for him. He seems to have difficulty in maintaining constant pressure when pressing the sides of his hands against the inside and outside of the walls, creating an uneven surface.

At one point, he presses too hard, pinching off a piece of clay that now goes flying. It makes a slop! sound as it hits his shoulder.

He sighs, grabbing the errant chunk of clay and once again rolling everything back into a single lump, starting over from the beginning.

She wonders if he can see her. His eyes don't seem to focus on her and her footsteps are too light for most to hear. Even if she weren't a Reverend Mother, she'd be able to tell: tension writes angry scribbles on his face, holding the small muscles taut. So she speaks up, using softer tones so she doesn't startle him. "You're getting too frustrated. It's causing your muscles to tense."

He looks up, looking towards her but directly not at her.

"I know," he says. "This is the first time I've tried this."

She allows her footfalls to be heavy enough to be heard as she approaches. Yes, blind. If he were a Fremen, he would have been turned out into the desert, there to be devoured by Shai Halud. But I am not on Dune. I can afford this much compassion.

"Let me help you?" It's a gentle question.

"If you want," Kazuki says, smiling some.

He scoots over on the bench, which was certainly wide enough for two people.

Sheeana settles down, as light as her steps. The bench barely feels any heavier.

She takes his hand, pale but callussed and places hers over it. "The more tension you hold in your fingers, the more the piece wobbles. Allow it to flow."

Kazuki starts the wheel back up again, trying once more.

He follows her advice carefully, keeping his hands more relaxed.

This time, it starts to turn out notably better, but still far from perfect.

"I'm Kazuki, by the way," he comments as he continues on the piece.

"Sheeana." She puts warmth in her voice and observes his work. "Good. Slight pressure with the palm here." She places her palm over his and presses down very slightly to emphasize her point. The energy of creation in this one was pleasingly raw. She waited until he felt satisfied with it.

Kazuki isn't used to having people this close, so he's a bit uncomfortable, but he tries not to show it. After all, Sheeana was nice enough to offer to help.

He slowly lets the wheel come to a stop as he finishes. It's still a little rough, but markedly better.

"Better," he says, "but not quite as good as my mom or dad."

And that's saying something, considering his dad never really got the hang of it.

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