The room is dimly lit and bisected by a shaft of light spotlighting dancing, golden motes of dust stirred to pirouettes by the aasimar's opening of the door. The intervening space is a mess: a small but heavy, square table is covered with dishes and rotting, moldy food, clothes are draped over chairs and lie on the floor, a cot in the corner of the room hasn't been made and its blankets are shoved up against the wall. A pile of wood next to the fireplace looks to have been tipped over and the fire has died out. Pots with the dregs of whatever had been cooked in them lie scattered about the floor amongst the pieces of wood.
The window on the far wall only emphasizes the domestic disaster: beyond it is a spectacular view of the ocean and sunset.
Giocco peers in behind Mariah. "Whew! Not in here, then. That's good, I don't know what I would have done if they had messed things up in here." He points to a door to the left. "My Da's room is through there and the stair to the light is over there." He motions to a door to the right of the entrance door where Mariah stands.