They emerge in a cluttered workshop of fabrics, furs, and leathers. Shelves on the wall contain drawers that house buttons, gemstones, and jewels. Her tools lies scattered on a wooden workbench; scissors, needles and threads. A lone mannequin stands against the wall, wearing one of her latest projects: a gorgeous white wedding dress with a lace veil draped over the head. Ningan admires her artwork despite having ultimately no interest in fashion.
"This is where the magic happens!" Sapphi proudly showcases her workshop. "Countless celebrities and socialites have blessed this room with their presence to be fitted for all kinds of glamourous costumes. Not one has walked out dissatisfied."
She turns to her newest project with a piercing gaze. "Nothing is too challenging for Oblimos's finest fashion designer."
"Wait a second…" Ningan halts her creative inspiration. "You're going to make me a costume?"
"Not a costume!" the Zora corrects him. "A uniform, for our legendary crimefighter!"
"More of a disguise." Imogen clarifies. "We can't have you beating criminals in the streets with your face uncovered. They would easily hunt you down."
She's right; although he would never admit it.
Sapphi whips out a measuring tape and begins by noting sizes.
"Slender…" she remarks. "You could do with a little extra muscle. What is it you do for a living, dear?"
"I used to be a waiter at Sidon's Seafood Saloon." he answers. "I was fired two days ago."
The Zora bites her tongue as she inscribes her findings in a notepad. "So, design-wise…I'm thinking something bold that will strike fear into the hearts of men."
"Surely something that blends-in would be more suitable?" the priestess pipes.
"A mask will do just fine." Ningan says firmly.
"Oh no, no, no, darling." Sapphi dashes his proposals instantly. "We're looking to create you a whole new identity. No longer will you be some poor vagabond scrounging for Rupees-"
"Excuse me?"
"You are about to become a hero – an icon!" Her eyes sparkle at the vision in his mind's eye. "I have it! I have the idea!"
The artist snatches her sketchbook from the workbench and starts furiously scribbling in the pages. Imogen and Ningan watch in amazement as she conjures a design in mere minutes. She collects the appropriate materials and utensils and begins working on her assignment.
Ningan is the model for her work: he fidgets and scratches as she rips, tears and bites the clothes he is wearing until solely shreds remain. She fits him with a new base and squeezes him into belts and bandages. Imogen marvels at the masterpiece she has created as the final thread is sewn.
Sapphi steps back to appreciate her art. "Well, would you look at that…a testament to the phrase'everything old can be made new again'…"
She plants him in front of a full-length mirror so he can see for himself. Ningan gasps. His scruffy old outfit from the Hidden Village has revolutionised into a brand-new uniform: a tight-fitted leather jumpsuit, scarlet from head to toe, with sturdy boots and a matching belt, boasting two separate pouches on either hip to conceal his weapons. His threadbare bandanna has been replaced by a scarlet band that wraps around his head with eyeholes cut into it.
"The material is lightweight, flexible, and best of all, durable." Sapphi briefs him. "Oh, and I added the extra advantage of being one-hundred percent waterproof. It's the little things that make the difference, don't you agree darling?"
Ningan turns in the mirror to face the back, inspecting the definition of his calves through the fabric. She even took the care to include the Eye of Truth on his chest; his tribe's symbol, as a reminder of home. "Sapphi, this is…incredible…"
"An outfit fit for a hero!" she beams.
"We just need a name." Imogen adds.
"Oh, I have one!" the Zora chimes. "How about 'The Scarlet Zephyr'?"
"Perhaps a little less theatrical…" the priestess ponders. "What about 'The Peacekeeper'?"
Ningan gazes at his reflection and sees the perfect name staring back at him: "'The Weeping Eye.'"
