There's a pause as she mulls the idea over, and then the puff of a chuckle through her nose.

"The quality of the work does depend on the quality of the tools," Nari says, wryly amused. It had never occurred to her that way before. That perhaps they were the tools, rather than the art. That they weren't what the gods wove, but the loom on which it was woven.

Huh.

How much do her myriad knives, chisels, and picks know of the movements her hands make or why they make them? Why she chooses one over the other for a certain cut? Not seeing everything, wouldn't they struggle and chafe at her choices? Would she not want them to trust her to use them well?

She'll be chewing on that for days.