Dara

Dara's Room

Does anyone live here? Wait, yes... a blade neatly placed against the wall. Clothes in the wardrobe, of a comfortable bent. More slacks than dresses. A brush. Soft leather boots.

The bed is mussed, as if whoever slept here slept uneasily, and then did not make it in the morning. As if no one enters this room to clean it... as if the occupant has requested to be left alone.

But there are no decorations. Nothing personal, save the blade. Does she consider herself a guest still, or does she simply not know what she wants to have around her?