This is my first fanfic, constructive criticism is welcomed and would be appreciated. Updates will occur once or twice a week.))
The sun was carelessly peering into the window. The gray drapes were not drawn, allowing bright rays to sneak into the room. The royal blue carpet was exposed to its warmth.
A grand bed, appearing to be king sized, was laying in the middle of the room. A rather large room at that; yet it only supports a few items. The silk sheets are a striking silver. Although, in the eyes of the room's master, the silver could not appear any more dull. His lover who laid upon the sheets was far more vibrant.
This woman had platinum blonde hair. Her locks bore no true equal. They were not pure white like snow, and not the hue of a lemon. And for this reason, her lover found no joy from the sheets. Only from her.
The woman he adored, had sun kissed skin. Small cuts and scars were evident along her body. Each one was a tale of a childhood adventure. No place on her body was completely clear of marks; yet to her lover, she was perfect.
Her lips were painted with a light crimson. Her eyes resemble emeralds, but her eyelids gave them a shield at night. This shield was disrupted by the brilliance of the sun. Slowly her eyes flutter open and greet the room she knew so well.
Timpani sits up, and arises from the bed in a swift motion. She rests her eyes on her lover who appears to be fast asleep. She leans over him and places a gentle kiss on his forehead. Her own actions brought her to chuckle. This was one of the many times his head wasn't covered with a formal top hat.
She stands still to admire him in silence. His skin was far darker than anyone she had known in her youth. His lips had a very unique shape and thickness. He had shown a suppressed distaste for his differences from her. It was often the reason he wore garments he didn't need. At least when they lay together she knew he wasn't attempting to hide anything.
One thing she adores most about him was his lovely locks. His hair was like cotton obsidian. A rich jet black pigment few people naturally wore much less looked decent in. Blumiere on the other hand, wore it so well. And yet, he hides his hair under that white hat. The hair she's praised several times, he hides. For this, Timpani has not received a direct answer.
As the alarming sunlight crawls father into the room, Timpani snaps out of her trance. She plants another kiss, this time on the cheek, as a reward for him finally taking a day off. She spins around and faces the door; opening it with caution.
Timpani walks into the hall, only lighted with the sun's rays. Like many other parts of the castle, the walls and furniture are in dark, neutral colors. Such tones made the woman appear like a ghost. Her satin nightgown was completely white. The gown follows Timpani's movements and emphasises them.
In minutes the Lady was at the dining room table, alone. Often, she would express her thoughts of the previous day in her diary. It was typically done in the drawing room. Guests and visitors would be there to speak with her. Although, today she sits at the table, long before breakfast was officially served, to be alone.
After the events of her nightmare, it would be understandable.