Côte Céleste, huh… For a town with such an abundance of “special folk”, one would wager the place to be a bit more lively. 

It didn’t matter to Descole— the quieter, the better. He didn’t wish for the noise level akin to a busy metropolis in the place he would have to call home. Headaches would be the least of his worries; truth be told, noise pollution would grant him a whole new world of psychosomatic pain.

After setting his belongings in the house he would call home, Descole took a stroll. For the most part, the music-inclined scientist kept to himself, only wishing to survey the town for his own merit, mapping the streets and buildings via his mind’s eye in hopes for the imagery to settle and remain for future references when he had to walk around once again. 

A shop caught his eye— a quaint little instrument store just further north within town limits. His casual strides wasted no time in halting, gaze settled on the glass, peering through, curious for what other items the owner had to sell. Descole didn’t bring much with him in terms of money, just enough for the bare necessities until he settled himself in and found a job somewhere. (Hah!)

He strode inside. Not another soul lingered within these walls. A rather new-looking piano situated just ways inside, not far from the entrance. Pulling the stool out, and with a flare of his cloak, he seated himself. Hopefully this instrument has been tuned before being put on display.

He allowed a few stray notes to play before an elaborate melody was born from his fingers. This felt quite relaxing, something to ease his mind from the hassles of moving into a new and unfamiliar town…