Every Little Memory

Entry #18: Carnation Pink

This place is the grandest house I have ever seen. The floor is made of shimmering gold colored tiles that reflect your face when you stare down at them. They don’t show an image of my face, but I see an image of everything in the room within the floor tiles. The high, vaulted ceiling stretches above me, towering at least three stories. The white stone walls on this bottom floor are covered in paintings that seem rather expensive. There are portraits of strangers I’ve never seen before, some landscapes (mostly of the ocean), a few pastels of castles, and one of potted flowers. The large chandelier, the railings on the tall staircase, and the vases housing vibrant red roses are made of solid gold.

A bright red rug with heavy white and yellow embroidery covers the floor in front of the staircase. A family crest is sewn in the middle of it. The shield is a lighter shade of red, white, and golden yellow. An image of a grey wolf stands atop the shield, in a howling position. The whole crest is surrounded by thorny white roses.

This entire mansion—no, palace—must have cost a fortune! Whoever lives in this monstrosity of a house must have a large quantity of wealth. It’s a good thing I am like an apparition in memories, or I would be afraid to even set foot in here! Everything on display looks so fragile, I’m afraid I might break it!

I feel adventurous, wanting to explore every nook and cranny of this big house. I meander up the grand staircase to the second floor, my eyes soaking in all the sights. There is even more pottery up here in the hallway, filled with orange and yellow marigolds and pure white lilies. A faint scent finds its way to my nose, the smell of vanilla and coconut. Perfume…ugh. If you ask me, that vile concoction should never have been created. It smells so…artificial. Nothing like real flowers and fruit. It’s a good thing I tolerate the smell of vanilla and coconut, or I would be gagging.

The smell is coming from inside a room at the end of the corridor. The white painted door sits open, allowing light to pour into the hall. I step through into someone’s bedchamber. The walls are painted a rich shade of blue, matching well with the white carpet. A king-sized bed rests against one of the walls. The wool blankets are plain, undecorated white. A wooden vanity is set up opposite the bed, covered in bottles of perfume, hair ties, a hair brush, and one small case of black eye shadow.

Compared to the rest of the house, this room is rather plain. It is such a large room, big enough for several of those king-sized beds. Yet the only furniture is the bed, the vanity, and a brown armchair that looks comfortable. The walls have no paintings or decorations. I notice a large, two-handed katana resting against the wall by the chair. I wish I could see what it looks like with the scabbard off.

A glass door sits on one side of the room, leading out to a balcony. The curtains in front of it are drawn half-way, allowing me to look out at the evening sky. Another wooden door is open within the room, and voices are coming from inside it.

I step through this threshold to find a large walk-in closet. The majority of the clothes are ragged men’s tunics and trousers. Two pairs of dirty leather boots rest by the door, along with a sword belt and sheathed steel dagger. At first, I think this is a man’s room until I see the three or four dresses hanging in the back.

A mannequin in the far right corner of the room is clad in a well-kept suit of leather and chainmail armor. The leather bears the seal of Dragon’s Maw: a yellow dragon snarling at something invisible. Dragon’s Maw is a militaristic city to the north, close to the border of Talyyn. They train Fen’s defenders there. The literal knights in shining armor that ensure the safety of each and every citizen of Fen.

The suit lacks a helmet, suggesting that whoever the armor belongs to refuses to wear one. I doubt anyone in this nice house would be capable of losing something as valuable as a helmet.