The dim glow of the environment finally settled over him like a grudging welcome. Ashwatthama rolled his shoulders, the faint pop of his joints echoing off of the artificial room that seemed to drink the sound. His amber eyes—sharp, and attentive—swept the space once more, lips curling into –
Asʜᴡᴀᴛᴛʜᴀᴍᴀ
« arrival... Rewriting the area into an small island with white petals blowing in the air... It's reminiscent to the ending of a certain Lostbelt, what with the twilit sky.
"How is the lighting?"
