A voice above her head spoke. "Nice digs." One of the brass lanterns hanging from the ceiling creaked as it swung gently forth and back under the weight of a huge raven. His black wings shone like polished coal under the soft light, and he did not look so out of place in the lushness of the hanging silks and satin curtains. His voice was male, and as harsh and hoarse as you might expect a raven's to be. "I seen some nice dreamscapes, but this is pretty good. Got a lushness to it. Nice taste." His claws scraped on the brass and finally he flapped down, landing somewhat ungracefully on an open window--for the place now seemed to have windows.
The panorama outside might have been unfamiliar. There wasn't much grass, and where it was, it was scrub and clustered in odd patches. Huge trees bent from weight and age almost hid the sky, and their roots were hidden in pools of mirror-dark water. Dappled sunlight filtered through and a thick warm humidity sank down onto the skin. Some kind of insect buzzed loudly, and the bayou seemed to hum with it. The raven's voice, brash only a moment before, now sounded uncertain. "...This your place too?"