A quiet sort of dignified breath swells, then leaves as it came, parting and kissing its way back to the Dead God's Pad. It has the power to leave anyone short on words, eating their own senses as they try to grasp what's in the air around them.
Walk into the room and the first thing you'd notice would be the bitter glass beneath your toes, and large, lacklustre eyes gleaning through the ice below. The thermostat's broken in the room, but that's alright, it probably would never be warm with who lives there. The colours are magnified ten-fold, and it hurts so much to just look, and maybe, maybe it's like this so that if you ever do see someone here, you won't be able to look at him. Bright, that's the only real word to describe it, breathy.
If you could snap a photo, capture everything in view and even those hidden, the lines would be blurred and the emotions hazed, and from way back where, it'd look alright.
It's the perfect home for a certain type of individual.
