Rooms indeed. Claralell didn’t have a single room to herself like Fern did, but a whole suite all to herself. The room that Fern found herself in seemed to be a living room and entryway combined. It was an…odd shape though. The wall behind her was curved, of course. They were in a tower after all. The two walls on either side were rather short, coming to a long curve that bottlenecked into another doorway hung with a beaded curtain.

On the right wall was a marble fireplace that’s mantle was decorated with a garland and a landscape painting or space, but with an unusually warm pallet of pinks and reds. There was an oak coffee table, a loveseat and a sofa chair. The table was bare save for a pastel vase filled with silk roses, and the other furniture was a peachy color and patterned with pale green vines laden with pink and aqua roses. To the right was a massive oaken china cabinet with doors that curved outwards. Inside it was a plethora of various china sets and lacquerware, arranged neatly. Going down the middle of the room was a rosy rug with gold accents, leading to the door that was flanked by columns holding more vases of silk flowers.

Fern turned around to see Claralell grinning at her, “So?”

“It’s nice. Very…pink.”

“I like blue and silver and all, but I’d go crazy if those were the only colors I ever saw.” Claralell stepped forward, starting to drag Fern towards the door, “So I decorated this room myself! I had to bring most of it up here from Earth though. Honestly, you wouldn’t believe how long it took me to find a china cabinet I liked enough to haul up here.”

Through the next door was a bit of a hallway that had two more doorways to either side before leaning to the right and opening up to a large, circular bedroom. Claralell’s bedroom was surprisingly sparse, containing her bed, two bedside tables, and an odd combination of a dresser and vanity to the right. The bed itself was a massive canopied oval loaded with pillows and fluffy peach blankets, while the other furniture was oak and heavily detailed, and they were sitting on top of a large ovular rug that was light blue and gold. The canopy and curtains draped over the two windows were a darker blue.

Although the furniture itself was light, the walls certainly weren’t. It seemed that every inch of the walls was detailed in some way. The white walls were covered in shimmering gold panels and scrolling foliage, with the occasional panel being used as a space to hang a nice painting.

There were more entryways on either side of the room, but these actually had doors on them. Claralell ran up to her bed and leapt up onto it, bouncing as she landed and sitting to face Fern. “So, what do you think?”

“It’s really nice.” Fern didn’t really have much else to say about it. What else could she say? To be honest, she was still pretty stunned that she was here.

Claralell didn’t seem to notice Fern’s absentmindedness and giggled. She caught Fern’s glances at the doors. Claralell pointed to the door on Fern’s right, “That’s the bathroom,” then to the left, “and that’s my closet. Do you need to use the restroom?”

Surprisingly, no. Fern shook her head and walked over to sit gingerly next to Claralell, sinking down into the fluffy mattress. The furniture was so nice, it almost seemed like it wasn’t actually meant to be used. Claralell swung her feet around the bed, grinning happily, “Okay, what should I show you first?”

“Show me?”

“Yes! There’s more to floor.”

“More?!” Just the space Fern had seen was coming close to being the size of Fern’s whole house, and she had to share that with her dad!

“Of course! Let’s see, umm….” Claralell pondered for a bit before snapping her fingers and dragging Fern up again, “We’ll start here!”

She dragged Fern back the way they came, but this time she pulled her through the curtained door on their right. Fern blinked rapidly.

This room was a peculiar bean shape, curving away towards the left. The walls kept the same golden paneling as the bedroom. On the left was yet another door and a wall full of hanging instruments. There were guitars, violins and violas, and various brass and woodwind instruments like trumpets and flutes. The wall of instruments wrapped around the wall, only stopping when it came to a raised marble platform that held a harp, a grand piano, and a harpsicord. The section of wall on the right was taken up by a low cabinet. Fern could see through the glass doors that they were stuffed full of sheet music, vinyl records and CDs, and a small CD player. On top of the cabinets sat various tools like a metronome, tuning forks, and an old record player.

Claralell stepped forward and puffed out her chest, “This is my music room!”

This music room had more instruments in it than Fern’s school music program. It was two parts impressive, and one part sad. Fern wandered over to the record play, lifting the needle gently, “This is…crazy. Even Grandma doesn’t even have one of these anymore. How’d you get it?”

“That old thing? I got that ages ago.”

“Why even keep it? You’ve got CDs and a player.”

“I try to keep up with the times, but I just have a soft spot for vinyl.” She came over and picked one of the giant black disks out of the cabinet, “Did you know that every record sounds different, even if they have the same songs recorded on them? This one in particular has a spot that always skips. I like the crispness of CDs, but I’ll keep trying to collect vinyl when I can.”

She put the record back in its place and shut the door on it, “Of course, they’re harder to come by nowadays.”

Fern opened her mouth to respond when Claralell turned around and gestured to the rest of the room. “Do you play anything?”

Fern winced and looked around, “Um…I can play Hot Cross Buns on the recorder.” A recorder was the only instrument she’d ever touched in her life, and that was thanks to her school’s meager music program. Her dad had once looked into getting her piano lessons, but he’d simply told her that they were too expensive.

“Uhg, dreadful instrument. It takes a miracle to make it sound nice even when it’s played well.”

Recalling the ungodly caterwauling of thirty children screeching into those plastic flutes, Fern couldn’t argue there. “What do you play?”

Claralell puffed up like a preening bird, “Oh, I can play all of them.”

Fern stared dead at her, “…ALL of them?”

Claralell nodded, “Yes! In my time I’m mastered every instrument in this room.”

Fern was tempted to call her out as a bluffer, but seeing the clear pride on Claralell’s face, she could tell it probably wasn’t a lie.

Claralell continued to prattle on, “Well, maybe not master, but I can certainly play them all fairly well. I’m especially good on the harpsicord. That was the one I learned how to play first.”

Fern looked over to the harpsicord in question. Although all of the other instruments were well built and nicely designed, it was clear that this item in particular was special. It looked particularly old, clearly an antique, and yet it was meticulously cared for.

Claralell strode over and ran her pale, thin fingers over the keys. She sat down for a moment and played out a short section from a piece that Fern recognized as one of those piano pieces she heard all the time. One of those bits from Tchaikovsky, or Beethoven, or someone like that.

All Fern could muster in response was, “Wow.”

Claralell hopped up and started pulling Fern towards the other door in the room, “This next, this next!”

This room was perfectly circular, and clearly dedicated to art. There was an easel with a blank canvas on it, a few tables for holding supplies, and a large cabinet stuffed with all kinds of materials. There was even a big slab of marble off to one side that had various chips and hunks taken off of it. Unlike the other rooms, this one had smooth marble floors that were splotched with paint instead of that plush lavender carpet.

“This is my art room!”

Claralell tugged Fern further in and sat her down on a stool beside the table in the middle of the room. The blonde girl turned and walked over to the cabinet and started pulling out canvases, “I’ll admit that I’m not very good at this yet. But I didn’t pick this particular hobby up until awhile ago, so I’m still improving.”

Claralell came back to the table and started to lay her paintings out for Fern to see. The redhead saw the first canvas and had to screw her jaw shut to keep it from dropping. ‘Not very good yet’ her foot! Claralell finished laying them out and pulled up the second stool, sitting next to Fern, “What do you think?”

“These are…great. Better than anything I could do.”

“Oh, nonsense. Anyone can do it if they practice enough.”

Fern looked down at one of the canvases, her nose scrunching. They were mostly still lifes of various objects that fern recognized from around the palace. The chandelier in the dinning hall, vases, and other things like that. Although not photo realistic, they were still remarkably good considering Claralell couldn’t have been more than a year older than Fern. There must’ve been grown adults jealous of how well Claralell painted!

“Where do you even find time for all of this?”

“Well, when you live as long as I have, you start to pick up any hobby you can just to pass the time.” Claralell mused, looking around the room, “Before I got into painting, this was my sewing room. You should see some of the things I made in here over the years. But I’ll admit I’m getting bored of painting. I’m thinking about trying those new video game things next. The only problem is figuring out how to run the electricity up here, but I’ll figure something out.”

She looked back to Fern, “Since I’m interested, do you have any recommendations? You’d know more about them than me.”

Fern could only stare at the blonde girl.

‘When you live as long as I have…over the years…wait.’

Fern frowned and asked in as steady a voice as she could muster, “Claralell, how old are you?”

Claralell blinked and seemed to shift her eyes away, rubbing the back of her pale head, “How old? Well, let’s see…it’s a little hard to keep track these days. What year is it now?”

Fern answered hesitantly, “2007.”

“Ah, right! So I came here in…and I was eleven then, so…that makes me,” Claralell gave Fern a wary glance, “…about six hundred and eighty? Give or take a few years.”