…

  She was pulled from sleep by a gentle rocking. Vistilia didn’t know what time it was, yet she could tell that it had been a while. Her mind was dull, and her limbs felt like lead. Something soft was underneath her, and she didn’t wish to wake. Yet, she still had too.

  It was then, after probably a half an hour of listlessly squirming on the bed beneath her, that she opened her eyes. Light poured into them, making her squint. Yet, when she finally could tell what she saw above her, she sat up.

  The ceiling above her head was one that she didn’t recognize. It was made of wood, with brass reinforcements along the beams of wood. She looked around the room some more. It was then that she noticed the room she was in. It was rather well furnished, with the bed under her being the most vish thing in the room.

  It was also rather rge. At least, it was rge for her size. It may have been the size of a queen bed, maybe rger. In effect, to her at least, it was like a king-sized bed. Of course, there were other things in the room other than the bed.

  She got up and off of the bed and moved over to the mirror next to the windowed wall. It was a long, polished metal mirror. Tall enough to show a six foot man, it towered over her. On the left of the mirror, was the windowed wall of the room.

  The window itself was gss, of course, and too tall for her to see out of. The walls of the room were made of stone, framed with strong hardwoods. All the walls except the windowed one, as that one was the only wall on the outside of the building in the room. That thought got her looking at the rest of the room, to see what it all completely was like.

  The floor was wooden, with heat running through it. It was warm to the touch, and she had never felt something like this, at least in this life. She took in the size of the room. rge she would call it, yet it was somehow the same size as her old room in their old home. About a perfect rectangle of size. That’s all you’re getting of the size of the room, the author is bad at judging sizes.

  There was also a cabinet next to the mirror. Made of a deeply stained wood, it was taller than she was. Then she turned to the door to the room. It was to the right of her bed, which sat near the middle of the wall that it was pushed up against. The door itself was also made from a deeply stained wood, just like the cabinet.

  Vistilia, satisfied with the state of the room, moved to the mirror itself. She had never, in her life, actually looked at herself. Yet, now was the time to do it. walking backward in sight of the mirror, she stopped.

  She looked upon er reflection. It stared back at her with the bnkest look one could manage on a five-year-old. The person looking back at her was pretty. Too pretty to be her. Plopped upon the top of her head was a mass of perfectly straight silver hair.

  She reached up and petted the hair on her head. It felt like silk, she had never actually wondered what it looked like, she was always just happy with the feeling of it beneath her fingers. Next, she peered into the abyss that was her eyes. Two rings of blue that surrounded her bck pupils.

  Her skin was next to be judged, and it was milk white. Without an imperfection in sight. She could have been a child actor or some such, she was so pretty. Of course, there was a lot of pretty people in this world. Yet, she felt that she was the prettiest, at least for now.

  She opened the door, and looked into the hallway that it opened up to. Stone walls framed by strong wood met her sight, and she couldn’t help but think that this was to be the theme of the building that they were to live in. “They,” being her family of course.

  The floor was wood as well, with heat running through it. The hallway was long, with doors along her side of the hallway possibly leading to other bedrooms for her family. Yet, a single door was all the way on the right side of the hall, with it being slightly ajar.

  It drew her in, before she knew it, she had moved herself to the door and made to open it, to see what was inside. It may have been some kiddish part of her mind, it may have been something else entirely. Yet, she felt as though she needed to go in this room.

  She opened the door, turning the handle and peering inside. What met her eyes was books. Shelves of them. She didn’t think that this time period had this many, yet here they were. Lines of them, they stacked to the ceiling, which seemed taller in this personal library. She sucked in a breath, the old and musty air of the pce soaking into her lungs, which was probably bad.

  She took a step into the room, the floorboards creaking as she did so. It was a sad thing, that this pce seemed to have been left to gather dust. Her family didn’t own these books, at least she thought so. After all, she didn’t have any memory of putting books away, at least apart from the holy texts that her mother owned.

  She went inside the room proper. The sounds of her little feet walking across the dusty floor could be heard all about the room. It was then that she took in the room properly.

  There were many shelves, upon which a lot of very dusty books were pced. It seemed to her, that the room itself stretched all the way to the end of the hallway. She quirked up an eyebrow at this. That was a feat, to be able to fill a room like this with books in a pce with this level of technology.

  Row upon row, of books lined the floor and the walls of the room. At the far left end of the room was a hearth, the bed of which was cold and looked like it hadn’t been used in a while. It was a bit strange then, that the door had been ajar.

  Vistilia shook her head of those thoughts, and made her way out of the private library. She had more of the house to explore, right? Now wasn’t the time to read.

  She made her way out of the room, and back to the hallway and then down it. To the end of the hallway she went. This end was on the left of her room, if you came from there, and featured a staircase that went down onto what could only be assumed to be the ground floor.

  It was wooden, just as the floor was. Handrails lined the side of it, just so when one walked down, they didn’t fall. The wood was dark as the cabinet and the door, and all the other woods were.

  She walked down the stairs, holding onto the handrail as she did so. There, as she walked down it, she heard the sounds of eating and the clinking of silverware. Her parents seemed to be eating breakfast, or it might have been lunch all things considered. It felt a little te.

  She looked at the area. It was a dining room, with the kitchen behind it and separated by a wall, yet there was an empty space where door would be. Smells came from that space, good smells.

  The dining room was long, with a rather long table fit to host a dozen and a half people. Why or how this was here was unknown to her. There was also a wall on the right side that seemed to be the wall to another part of the house that she didn’t know of yet.

  “Oh, good morning little one,” her father said from his seated pce at the dinner table with her mother on his right, “sit down and have some eggs, why don’t you?”

  …