Re: log: louis and ren
Louis would have arched a brow if they had made a beeline for the master, now that he knew who owned the home. There were issues with your parents, and there were issues. Childhood bedrooms had their own hangups as well, and when they chose what was obviously a neutrally appointed guest room, he assumed it was or the best. No baggage in a room for those passing through, and neither of them lived here, did they?
A house full of reproductions rankled him a little. He couldn't understand it - they had money, or they wouldn't own the house. Why not buy real objects of real value? The only beauty of a reproduction was its ability to please in every shallow way, to be the height of roccoco or art deco without any of the quirks or scratches or small faults of the real thing.
The fourposter bed, on the other hand, was just the ticket. And anyway, he wasn't really that focused on the furniture with his hand in Ren's and a continuous flood of pleasure and mild anxiety.
The room filled with orange light, and Ren stood against it, gloriously backlit by the setting sun.
"I don't care for it," he said, with a small smile, leaning against one of the corners. He ran his thumb over a beautifully carved detail. "Not at all."