Woodstains [Open]

Back in Northaven where the alchemist was from, the section of town he lived in was specifically cordoned off for commoners. In fact, his own street was for the lowest of the low: shape changers. In this new world however where being a shape changer was called being an attuned (why, he didn't quite know), and there was no stigma to it, Remi found himself understandably a bit uncertain about his new place in the world. To this effect he'd chosen for himself one of the smaller and more ramshackle homes. He'd never really needed anything more than that anyways, but even so it felt strange to be in a position to not only be allowed to want more, but to take it if he saw fit. But of course Remi didn't. Meandering along, Remi spied someone he didn't recognize (hardly a surprise these days). What was surprising was that the man appeared to be working on the aesthetics of his home. Everyone had been so focused on mere survival that to see someone putting aside their fear and anxiety to create something beautiful was a welcome change. "I have created some proper paints, if you would like." The alchemist said, hands in his charcoal-stained pockets, kind facing flashing a boyish smile, and melodically accented voice ringing easily off of his lips. remi Trying to teach my common sense to not waver with my confidence