not so dustless now

[dustless]

In one of the castle's many halls, a worn tapestry, depicting nothing in particular, succumbs to age and rot and falls.

Behind it lies a door.

Behind that door, should anyone decide to investigate, is a musty-smelling room with drawings papering the walls, corners gently curling in, and dust covering every inch of furniture; a desk, a chair, a bed. 

Despite it all, the bed is occupied. 

Frisk lies there on their side, half-covered in blankets, exposed skin and shirt just as dust-coated as the rest of the room. Their chest raises and falls shallowly enough that a spider's made a fancy web between the collar of their shirt and a hand curled close to their body.

It might take a little work to rouse them.