The Tsuchikage is... [IN/OUT]
The room is of a fair size, made to look smaller by the many bookshelves cluttered with scrolls. Everything is coated in a fine layer of dust, but no one seems to mind. When entering the room, the first thing that is apparent is the group of comfortable looking chairs around a low coffee table and the coffee maker off to the side, almost unnoticeable amidst the scrolls of the shelf it's placed upon. Apparently, their sense of hospitality extends to the comfort of the waiting guests. Through another door on the right wall is the hokage's actual office, this room much less dusty. On the left wall is a large, oval window that overlooks a garden and beyond that, the city. The desk and shelves in here are much more organized, a filing system readily apparent. The Tsuchikage's desk is on the wall that you face when entering the room and is decorated with small rock statues and an hour glass, although more practical items like a well-kept stationary set are also present. As you enter, she raises her head, sweeping a stray strand of black hair back behind her ear in an innocent gesture whose impression is soon overridden by her piercing, cold eyes. She is clearly not a woman to cross.
The room is of a fair size, made to look smaller by the many bookshelves cluttered with scrolls. Everything is coated in a fine layer of dust, but no one seems to mind. When entering the room, the first thing that is apparent is the group of comfortable looking chairs around a low coffee table and the coffee maker off to the side, almost unnoticeable amidst the scrolls of the shelf it's placed upon. Apparently, their sense of hospitality extends to the comfort of the waiting guests. Through another door on the right wall is the hokage's actual office, this room much less dusty. On the left wall is a large, oval window that overlooks a garden and beyond that, the city. The desk and shelves in here are much more organized, a filing system readily apparent. The Tsuchikage's desk is on the wall that you face when entering the room and is decorated with small rock statues and an hour glass, although more practical items like a well-kept stationary set are also present. As you enter, she raises her head, sweeping a stray strand of black hair back behind her ear in an innocent gesture whose impression is soon overridden by her piercing, cold eyes. She is clearly not a woman to cross.
