((Continued from The Definition of Fun.))
Eroina's room could be best described as a work in progress. There were cool colors everywhere--blues, greens, purples, turquoises . . . everywhere, with no rhyme or reason, painted about the walls, and as the buckets of paint and brushes upon the wooden floor suggested, Eroina must have been given paint and told to "have fun."
Her choice of design was surreal; in so much, it was chaotic and meaningless. Her bed, small and worn as it was, was in the corner, while a nightstand was splotched with paint over on the other side of the room. She had a dresser that wasn't even set against a wall, but three feet from it, and rather than having candlesticks arranged on top of it, they were arranged right in front of it. This seemed to have no purpose, as it could not possibly light up the entirety of a room without being up high, but she had them there for a reason.
Some reason or the other.
Other furniture, such as a couch and a coffee table, were also scattered, with a couch set diagonal in a corner, and the coffee table too far from it to be of any use. Nothing was in the path to her bed, though. Eroina also didn't keep the door locked, unafraid of the potential for thieves. Who would want to steal from her? Something that crazy would never happen! Nonetheless, every time she saw her room, she felt just a bit happier, and she was able to smile again as she let go of the hooded man's hand and skipped to the center of the room, before turning around to face him, her hands holding one another behind her back.
"Well--this is it! My room!" Eroina announced cheerily.