Between impressive pillow forts, large houses, and much more reserved business houses, there is something here, something delicate and warm like a gentle flame. Her hair's a mess from sleeping, but even so, she's still a cute child, all bundled up practically against her best friend's arm.
And he, he, is resting right alongside her, perfectly combed through hair succumbing to sleepy bed head, as Zen lays beside his best friend. The very friend that he'd stumbled upon one day at the park, who he'd chased around in a never ending seeming game of tag, who they quickly came to share jokes and smiles with.
There was no difference between them, up until they visited each other's houses for the first time. One was a bar apartment, her house, so simple and small in comparison. She only lived up top with her grandparents, and her simple pride over the little place was endearing.
And he lived in a much larger house. One that his family had inherited from ancestors back, as he'd proudly told her. Before Mom and Dad owned it, Grandpa and Grandma did, and before them was Great Grandma and Great Grandpa. I don't know who was before them; you'd have to ask my big brother for that!
All childhood pride and joy, all excited memory, and despite the palace-like mansion, it was a great place to curl up underneath giant pillow forts and still make a mess of the place that the maids will come back and fix up later. And right now, it's the most comfortable place to sleep on the floor under a pillow fort, the two friends had ran around building up.
And amid Zen's childhood snores and Shirayuki's six year old cuddling, it's a great place to rest.