BASTIEN
Bastien had returned to the Sanctuary after Longnight knowing he had a lot of unpacking to do. He had carefully wrapped each brush, canvas and book before leaving (which had protected them from the invasive mud that seemed to be everywhere, something for which he was very grateful) and lifted every chair onto each table. While he knew there was work ahead, he was glad for his foresight, and entered the guildhall eager to get to the job.Yet when he entered, he saw chaos. Plenty of his fabric wraps remained but some lay open, paints ripped out and splattered up walls and across the floor, canvases on the ground baring crude, messy drawings. People, the sun...as if a child had drawn them. Speechless, Bastien stepped forward into the room, standing at the bottom of one of the canvases and looking upon it. He had never been one opposed to an avant garde artist or mess (the paint on the walls would simply add to the atmosphere, he was sure) but he wanted to know who this mysterious artist was.
It seemed for the moment the Sanctuary would give no answers. Leaving the door open so the cold Flowerbirth air could clear out any damp in the building, he began to tidy, stacking up the mystery art against one wall and putting the caps back on bottles of paint.
We're aware they're trying to take away our dreams
