Entering Toriel's bedroom the aged wooden door creaks faintly as it swings open, allowing you to step in. The soft light of a bedside lamp bathes the room in a gentle, golden hue, creating an inviting atmosphere, at the center of the room lies Toriel's neatly made bed, Toriel herself rests upon it, lying on her stomach and not in her usual purple robe, utterly absorbed in the pages of her book. Her position affords you a view of her back and her big round rump, though covered in her blanket the plump and rounded curves of her comforting form basking in the warm glow of the room. Toriel's snow-white fur on her rump and thighs glisten ever so subtly with a sheen of sweat under the soft ambient light. As she reads, her graceful movements turn the pages with care, Toriel seems wholly engrossed, unaware of your presence. Her hips are rocking from side to side as she hums to herself subconsciously, her short goat tail swishing gently along with it.