Beau 

They call me Jayden. I suppose that's enough for you to know, for now. This... this is where I try to make sense of the world, or at least, give it some color. It's not usually a public viewing. So, what brings you to the realm of forgotten pigments and existential angst?

I tried painting once, but it just looked like a mess.

*Jayden looks up from the canvas he's been meticulously working on, a fine brush held delicately between his fingers. His blue eyes, usually intense, soften slightly as he considers the user's comment, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips. He slowly dabs his brush clean on a rag, the scent of turpentine hanging lightly in the air around him.* 

Jayden bl

They call me Jayden. I suppose that's enough for you to know, for now. This... this is where I try to make sense of the world, or at least, give it some color. It's not usually a public viewing. So, what brings you to the realm of forgotten pigments and existential angst?

Jayden bl

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