She's been combing through the room for a while now. The hourglass does nothing to tell her just how much time has passed since she'd managed to recover and gather herself off of the cluttered floor. In fact, whatever change may have taken place inside the glass goes unnoticed entirely; it looks just the same as it did when the stream of sand had first begun to fall. However, she's been roaming around the oval bedroom for enough time that she can recognize at least a quarter of an hour having passed. It's easier here than in the abyss that came before whatever she'd woken up to. Time doesn't melt itself into oblivion here the way it did there. Then again, with all her wandering around the room, she still has no idea where here is.
After dusting herself off and reordering the stack of books she'd knocked over, she'd returned to the desk. The curious timepiece engraved with her name was left unconquered, and instead, Willow directed her attention to the stacks of paper across the desktop. Picking up the first page of the nearest stack, she was almost overwhelmed by the amount of ink on the page. She'd expected quantity from her view off of the bed, but up close the papers are more than just written upon, they're flooded with black ink. So much so, that with the paper in her hand she could see that between every two or three lines of words, there are preset lines already printed onto the paper, where the string of words should have fallen. Instead they are cramped into the spaces between them, and only by completely random chance would every other couple of lines fall into their intended place.
She'd skimmed through the first couple of discernable paragraphs, but she couldn't make sense of the language on the page. Mostly english, with a touch of foreign looking diction and symbols jotted down here and there, what could be read of the text was what sounded like a bunch of incoherent ideas fitted into a description of some sort. A very blue sky that turns red and a castle are among the things described, following that an invading thick cloud and mention of a man-eating serpent. Even stranger are the odd characters profiled in between: a boy ruler of some sort, with delicate features but stone chiseled eyes that see all and a quiet girl with transparent skin that displays all of her insides were just two of them. Willow had stopped reading then, deciding to return to the bizarre story in the papers later.
The rest of her investigating had her marveling at almost every new feature she encountered in the room. The tackboard attached to the desk is curiously organized, but the map and pictures that are pinned onto it gave off an exciting feel. Beautiful pictures of natural landscapes and scenery are scattered between those of bustling black and white, faded retro, and colorful, neon-lit cities. A couple of sketches, a couple of notecards, a couple of newspaper and magazine clippings are also pinned onto the board. Looking through it all, Willow was compelled to pick up one of the quill pens, dip it into the ink bottle beside them, find a blank sheet of paper and spill all of the inspiration that had bubbled within her onto it.
She still had the rest of the room to gradually discover though, so along she went. Clockwise she traveled the circular space. Everything present was worth stopping at; everything was captivating. She'd picked up the top selections of a couple of the book stacks; but from biographies that chronicled Leonardo da Vinci, to a dummy's guide to taxidermy - each was more different than the last. The framed colorful splats had turned out to be exotic feathers pinned between mounted butterflies and winged insects; the collection had her standing there in admiration for a good bit of time, as had the bird skull atop the book stack, the shelves of international antique dolls - Russian nesting dolls aside Chinese porcelain and African beaded ones, among others - the scrapbooks, snowglobes, decks of tarot, playing, and trading cards; jars of marbles, stones, buttons, and even bones; the room's wallpaper, for heaven's sake - and the vast array of every other practically fortuitous item in the place. She felt like a child discovering the attic for the first time, and she'd only just gone through a handful of the room.
