The mirror seems to be as singularly comfortable but unremarkable as the rest of the room. (Though, as Chara appraises their own reflection, a brief notion that they're lookin' handsome may occur very vaguely to them. For no particular reason.)
The door opens easily; and beyond that, another room opens up behind it, this one just as woody and comfortable as the last. Morning sunlight streams through a pair of windows; a fire burns heartily in its grate; the aroma of a recent breakfast still hangs very faintly in the air. A dining table for four sits directly across from Chara's door.
And seated at this table, with her back to the door, is a brown-haired woman in a red dress. She seems to be bent over something on the tabletop in front of her; the sound of a pen scratching away at paper mingles with the crackle of the fire. But the woman pauses, now, head shifting slightly. She turns only a little, enough for the edge of her smile to be visible.
"Oh, you're finally up. Good morning, sleepyhead." Her voice is warm--and suddenly, the room is just as warm to match, as an overwhelming sense of calm and safety inexplicably fills the air. "The boys are already outside. They've been up for awhile now, playing with the Dragos. I hope you're not planning to play in your pajamas, though...you should scoot upstairs, and change your clothes."
She shifts again, her attention returning to the paper in front of her. For some reason, moving closer to her is impossible; no matter how many steps Chara might take towards the table, the floor moves beneath them but the distance stays the same.
no subject
The door opens easily; and beyond that, another room opens up behind it, this one just as woody and comfortable as the last. Morning sunlight streams through a pair of windows; a fire burns heartily in its grate; the aroma of a recent breakfast still hangs very faintly in the air. A dining table for four sits directly across from Chara's door.
And seated at this table, with her back to the door, is a brown-haired woman in a red dress. She seems to be bent over something on the tabletop in front of her; the sound of a pen scratching away at paper mingles with the crackle of the fire. But the woman pauses, now, head shifting slightly. She turns only a little, enough for the edge of her smile to be visible.
"Oh, you're finally up. Good morning, sleepyhead." Her voice is warm--and suddenly, the room is just as warm to match, as an overwhelming sense of calm and safety inexplicably fills the air. "The boys are already outside. They've been up for awhile now, playing with the Dragos. I hope you're not planning to play in your pajamas, though...you should scoot upstairs, and change your clothes."
She shifts again, her attention returning to the paper in front of her. For some reason, moving closer to her is impossible; no matter how many steps Chara might take towards the table, the floor moves beneath them but the distance stays the same.