Decorating, despite some parties love of bows, was distinctly masculine. The design was open to avoid clutter and invite personalization, to allow space to survey and avoid feelings like a cage or a lack of room to maneuver.
The Rift was always dangerous and split, it seemed, into territories. Feeling like the sword could be viably used at need seemed like a necessary comfort to someone used to living under constant siege from without as much as they were from addictions within. Windows let in light, and shifts of it through tree and sky that were pleasurable and absent from the unending sameness of the Rift. Hopeful enticements to lazy on the couch and enjoy the warmth like a cat might.
Obsidian was not dissimilar to an apex cat.
Björn set to pointing out what was not readily apparent of function in the form while Ladon got the food ready- "There's a speaker there, for music. Books and magazines. The bathroom through there in the hall, this one is a closet, linens on one side, stacked wash set on the other. The bedroom through here. We picked neutral colours- I do not know which you like best?"
Obsidian might not remember himself anymore, and if he did it was probably less in terms of like so much as want- blood, viscera, the blacks of chaos, the sparkles of light from starseeds. Nothing that was just a colour unattached to experience and want. The closer to Youma he was the more likely for youma behavior, which was based on wants or rest and little else. Bazzite kept the little dolls, and seemed to like them in a way that one might crave attention less than actual preference for one company or another.
Less 'like' and more 'not alone'. Obsidian, doubtless, would make a much less social youma.
