Robin's room was filled with an array of different kinds of furniture of all around the world from all different time periods. She gazed upon the colonial writing desk, scarred and faded wood that stood to her right, the eighteenth century bed with an all most gothic appeal to it from the erect bed posts of entwined dark metal roses with a mattress of green silk, Egyptian cotton. The dresser was the only new piece in her collected furniture, a deep mahogany wood with a classic mirror with drawers holding all Robin's secrets. "What can i say, i like my variety." Robin plopped herself on the bed, staring up to the canopy of roses endless stems of buds and blooms within the cold dark titanium.