"Everything you want," he breathed into her ear, and Naminé shivered in response. "Is only a picture away."
One could attempt to describe Naminé's room, her chamber, her prison cell in Castle Oblivion, but mostly only a single syllable word was needed to adequately convey the appearance of said area.
Her room was pure, featureless white. She didn't even have any sketches tacked on the walls. They were all in her art book, and besides the small splashes of color brought by her pencils and crayons, there was nothing interesting to note.
Naminé sat alone at her ivory table, sandaled feel occasionally swinging on a whim, biting her lip as she worked. Her illustrations were gorgeous when it came to detail, but their intent was malicious. She was burrowing into Sora's heart and memories like a parasite and ripping out the one he truly cared for, just so she could have a friend.
It made her feel horrible, terrible, filthy, even. Dirty. Contaminat