So I thought I'd describe where he lives. Because that helps, too. The things we choose to surround ourselves with.
House Tallart is one of the two houses technically under the sway of House Lhri'nahr. Each of the seven Great Houses technically oversees two of the smaller ones, though that's relaxed over time. So while Jana of house Tallart doesn't really answer to Edward to House Lhri'nahr, her ancestral lands are in his territory. And so that is where Alexander Tallart lives, several twisty streets down from the Aerie and the artsy downtown intersection of Sheridan and Sinclair. Alexander lives in a one-bedroom apartment over a clock shop, one that's been there for a few centuries. His door is a narrow one next to the more ornate entrance to the clock shop. Plain wood. No number. You'd have to know it's there.
The staircase is steep, and narrow, and bare. At the top, there is a heavy red velvet curtain, corded in gold.
You sweep aside the curtain, and you are in Victorian England.
Oh, there are things here than antedate the Victorian era, but everything fits it. That battered copper kettle is nowhere near that old. But Alexander would never use an electric kettle.
The rooms - well, one can only charitably call them individual rooms. When one enters, one is i the living are - Persian rugs scattered underfoot. A wine-red couch against the far wall, with a chipped wooden rolltop desk next to it, the kind with all the pigeonhole compartments. The near wall is all bookcases, filled mostly with literary classics. A bit of poetry hidden away in it. A phonograph atop it, and a stack of records.
To your right, the narrow kitchen (yes, narrow, everything is narrow; Alexander likes having some restraint in his life, and would not know what to do with himself, given more space); refrigerator, counter, stove, and a window. Through the window, you can just barely see Tyka's cafe; you have a better view of the back of Kelly's Ephemera.
To the left, the twin of the curtain at the top of the stairs, pulled half-back to create a partition for Alexander's sleeping area. A queen-sized four-poster bed of dark wood, and a nightstand that almost matches. A brass alarm clock. A half-open wardrobe, a chest of drawers. Just enough room to walk around without being claustrophobic. The window behind the bed shows the wall that encircles the city, off in the distance. There is a bench at the foot of the bed, the same padded red as the couch. Behind the curtain is a brass umbrella stand. In it, nestled among umbrellas and other various tall things, are a riding crop and a bamboo cane. (Alexander does not ride horses.)
There are books on the nightstand and on the bench; there is an open leatherbound journal on the desk, and a row of inkwells in black, cognac-brown, blue, and a glass dip pen. And most everything shows glints of brass or copper or gold, all shades of the gold of house Tallart, for Alexander is a dutiful son.
Here in his home, he can set aside the chaos of the current day and return to a life he loved, an incarnation where everything was clearer. Safer.
(When Katrina arrives, she is an intrusion - dynamic in his static environment, and that green splashed into his red and gold.)