The Blackwault Hotel

Chapter 3 | The Bathroom

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵❝【 ୨♜୧ 】❞︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The room was serene, a peaceful aura emanated from every crevasse of every tile. Apparatus clung to the door like his life depended upon the support of the wooden object. If it were to suddenly come off its hinges, it would surely be the end for him. The bathroom, if to be described in a single word, he'd pick burning white. A white so incredibly light, so incredibly saturated that the colour itself could be used as a weapon of war. The beams of colour stabbed the balls that took residence in his eye sockets, jabbing so hard that he was positive each vein popped one by one. Quite dramatic for a simple colour, Apparatus thought, pulling his lips into a frown. Unlike the rest of the Master Suite which had the appearance that it was very lived in, barely touched or changed even proceeding the death of its original owner, the bathroom seemed as if he'd just walked into another house entirely. It was significantly more modern, stylised in such a way that clashed with the fashion of the old-timey, rustic furniture of the bedroom. To his left sat a vacant, barebones, minimalistic counter with a china facet to accompany it. The countertop was a slightly dirty granite, weaved between the slab of white was speckles of grey as if someone had taken a chunk out of the moon, rolled it flat and spread it out. Upon the counter was a singular ceramic white vase, made out of the same material as the bowl of the sink. The vase, like the rest of the room, was bland and boring- having no distinct features apart from it's oblong triangular shape. The vase itself may've been plain but at least it was made up for the strands of lavender that paraded a deep violet hue. Their frosty, green stems pivoted downwards in a droop, the first signs of wilting. What a shame that the Staff hadn't bothered to replace them. The cabinets and drawers in the counter were decorated with golden handles, which upon closer inspection must've recently been replaced or shined to perfection. He assumed with the type of coating upon the handles that they'd show some signs of being worn, discolouration in the centre for example. But they showed no such indication of even a single speck of dust gracing it's metallic presence. Little laurel patterns, plated in a rich golden accent, traced the length of some of the drawers. Upon the other side of the bathroom, pressed up and cramped against the wall was a large, white bathtub. It's lip curled downwards in a vague sort of inanimate frown. The tub had four golden feet, each individual toe had a claw extending outwards. How tacky and stupidly dangerous! He could only imagine stubbing his toe upon the talons, alas that'd now been whittled down to a five out of ten chance. Two poles extending from either end of the bathtub held up a circular beam, like a halo, which had a bundled up fabric hanging from it. The shower curtains were even uglier up close, they had the appearance of belonging to a nursery or the children's ward of a hospital. If he wasn't so reserved he wouldn't hesitate to locate a lighter and set the dammed things ablaze! Behind the tub was a window that teetered slightly higher than eye-level, it's frame was a dark brown oak that had so many obvious splinters sticking out of it that it was more of a cactus than a window frame. A light breeze whistled through the gaps between the run-down window, it obviously wasn't sealed into the wall properly. That didn't bode very well, what kind of establishment was he running if he didn't receive at least decent interior design? He'd noticed his growing irritability like an itch, he must still be grumpy and thus a bath would be a lovely remedy. He bent down to clasp his body against the tub, his boney fingers tracing the edge tentatively and cautiously. For all he knew, hiding behind the curtain, filling the bath to its brim would be a scurrying colony of critters. Luckily, he was only greeted with an empty tub, unless a ghost was using it as a bed, but if there was then he'd have a lot more problems then not being able to utilise the bath's functions. He twisted the tap, it let out a horrible rusty squeak before a billowing rush of steamy water flooded out of the spout. The hiss of the bath filled the room, forcing the silence to the farthest corners, as he popped the rubbery black plug into its hole. The gold chain attaching the plug to the bath rattled as the water disturbed it's gentle metal structure, that found a path through each tiny hole.