#And then once day he moves into Entrapta's room and the redecodating starts all over again!

[cruelfeline]

Please consider, a concept:

Initially, Hordak's new room is quite barren: a bed, comfortable but plain; a wardrobe with nothing in it; a bedside table with nothing on it.

He has nothing, after all. The Fright Zone housed his meagre possessions, and it is gone. Or, rather, it is overgrown. Plants - and politics - stand between him and anything he might want to salvage, which is... admittedly not much.

So as Hordak settles into his new life, he does so in a fairly spartan manner. Which, really, is fine by him. He doesn't... well, it doesn't seem necessary, for him to have all that much, does it? He should be grateful - and he is - that he has the chance to settle into a new life at all. Thus, left up to him, the bed would stay plain, the wardrobe and bedside table empty.

But, as is so often the case, Entrapta has different ideas. She begins to fill the wardrobe: new tabards, new dresses. Long-sleeve shirts and sweaters. A couple of furred cloaks as Dryl's winter fog rolls in. All new. All bought or tailored with his - somewhat hesitantly supplied - preferences.

Winter's arrival likewise prompts an upgrade to his bed, and this time he's just a little less hesitant about the matter. He even enjoys the process: discussing the merits of various fabrics, the pros and cons of different patterns and colors and styles.

Granted, discussing just about anything with Entrapta is a pleasure. Especially when his more emboldened choices seem to truly delight her.

Once the new bedspread and blankets are out of the way, it doesn't seem that much more ostentatious to ensure that the curtains match. Or that the rug ties the room together as much as it protects his feet from the cold stone floor.

From there, the barrenness seems to just... naturally fill in. A bookshelf joins the wardrobe and bedside table, speedily filling up with volumes on astrophysics, biology, geology, and magic. Amongst these tomes hide a few fictional novels Hordak can't quite remember the origin of.

More evenings than not, one of these novels ends up on the bedside table.

Other surfaces start collecting objects, too: various tools, bits of machinery, a number of Imp's (mostly broken, but still well-loved) toys. The top of the wardrobe becomes home to Imp's new nest.

The LUVD crystal, when not inserted safely into his new armor, takes a place of honor on its own dedicated, tastefully decorative shelf.

And one day, while stepping in to retrieve a specific pair of gloves, Hordak realizes: this is his room. With his things in it, utilitarian or otherwise. And his tastes and preferences dictating its appearance.

It's such a small, even absurdly obvious sort of thing, but it makes him gently, comfortably happy.