Westminster Estates, Dover, Tuesday Evening
Susan's apartment is very small - three rooms if you count them generously, though the open plan arrangement makes the little kitchenette visable from the living room/bed room, separated only by the counter and a tiny table with two chairs. She does have somewhere comfortable to sit other than her bed, however - a chaise lounge, reminiscent of those Roman patricians lay upon at dinner, gorging themselves on costly delicacies. Small though it is, every item inside is in exquisite taste, an unusual mix of European and Middle Eastern influences sitting in odd harmony. Most of her possessions are antiques, but there is little in the apartment that has artistic merit alone. Almost everything there is useful as well as beautiful - the slab of marble atop the kitchen counter, for example, is pure malachite, black-and-green striations that had formed the top of a desk in an English castle some six hundred years ago.
It doesn't look as though she's ever cooked on it, though.
The wardrobe is really too large for the room, but fills the small space with the scent of apple - oddly strong for wood as old as this must be, a hundred years if it's a day. It's of the same quality and exquisite taste as everything else, but is out of place simply for its sheer size - enough for four children to hide inside, if they had a mind to.
A new feature in the apartment, displayed prominently, is a simple glass mirror. It doesn't seem to bear a frame, but the frosted edges of the glass have their own intricate pattern, lending a simple, elegant touch to the piece. It's only on close examination that the pattern coalesces into words: Queen and huntress, chaste and fair, now the sun is laid to sleep, seated in thy silver chair, state in wonted manner keep; Lay thy bow of pearl apart and thy crystal-shining quiver: give unto the flying hart space to breathe, how short so-ever.
[ooc: Specifically for Aaron Boone, but if anybody else has the desire to drop by and see Susan, feel free to do so! I sleep now, but I shall return in the morning.]
It doesn't look as though she's ever cooked on it, though.
The wardrobe is really too large for the room, but fills the small space with the scent of apple - oddly strong for wood as old as this must be, a hundred years if it's a day. It's of the same quality and exquisite taste as everything else, but is out of place simply for its sheer size - enough for four children to hide inside, if they had a mind to.
A new feature in the apartment, displayed prominently, is a simple glass mirror. It doesn't seem to bear a frame, but the frosted edges of the glass have their own intricate pattern, lending a simple, elegant touch to the piece. It's only on close examination that the pattern coalesces into words: Queen and huntress, chaste and fair, now the sun is laid to sleep, seated in thy silver chair, state in wonted manner keep; Lay thy bow of pearl apart and thy crystal-shining quiver: give unto the flying hart space to breathe, how short so-ever.
[ooc: Specifically for Aaron Boone, but if anybody else has the desire to drop by and see Susan, feel free to do so! I sleep now, but I shall return in the morning.]