Bastien
Bastien touched the wood where he had made his marks and knew Remi was right - it wouldn't last long. He supposed there was a kind of beauty in that, something he could write about as being fleeting yet beautiful...but in the moment he just felt disappointed. Still, the promise of brushes perked him up immediately.
Fantasies of studios and artistic societies began to arise in his mind, hints of his past life coming to tease him. Perhaps he could have it again here, at this place so different to Venice.
"An alchemist..? Oh, how wonderful. A kind of art in itself, I believe." He smiled warmly and shook the hand offered to him. His own hands had once been soft and perfumed, treated with special oils and creams each night, but the last few weeks and the work on the house had made them much more like Remi's. "Bastien. This may be a fool's question, but...do I hear an Italian accent?"
