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Despite what you may think from the clothes he wears, Garak is not an extravagant man. Does he have his tendencies, of course, however he would never have the most luxurious home on the block but he would never have the most drab either, besides both of those options would draw too much attention to himself, those are the kinds of homes that people stop on their evening walks to stare and make conversation about. He’d live near the city but not in the midst of it where homes are packed together like sardines with barely room for a front or back garden if any, no he’d prefer to stay in the outskirts of town where there’s space for hobbies and privacy to make his home.
His home would match the others exterior in their dusted beige, however he would still make it his own whether it be the entryway curved rather than straight across or his windows made of old kenar bottles he’d found littered about or donated to the recycling center or perhaps from his own personal collection, some of the windows even shaped to match the chu’en one would find interspersed in a line down the center of his body. The vines winding up his walls would lead most people to believe that the house was one of the few still standing after the war on Cardassia despite only having been standing for a matter of months. It wasn’t unless you were to round the house and hop it’s tall fence that you’d notice any true signs of life, the garden practically a field of red orange purple and green would surely give it away, the grounds ripe with blooming flowers sprouting vegetables and trees hanging with fruit, each delegated to their own areas with ample room to grow and prime conditions to finally spread their roots much like the inhabitant of the home beside them. If you followed the path of stone buried into the ground from the locked gate to the center of the garden you’d be met with a dark brown almost gray wooden pergola covered in cardassian mint vines winding up the legs soon about to make purchase of even the roof, likely planted there not only for the aesthetic but since the stone path would stop them from infecting the the beds of the other plants and taking over the whole garden. Hanging from the pergola were two hammock style chairs with plush seats and intricately patterned throw pillows that if you visited often enough you would see replaced based on the season. The chairs hung with a small table between them with just enough space for a tray of tea and maybe even a book depending on its size, and the chairs sat at an angle for ease of looking at the other’s partner but still able to get a full view of the growing plants surrounding them, they were the true star of the show after all.
If you were so lucky as to be invited into Garak’s home you’d feel foolish for ever thinking the home as “boring” due to its unassuming exterior, from the moment you’d enter through the front door you’d be greeted by the soft but noticeable floral aroma from fresh cut flowers replaced at least once a week living in a vase on his entryway table, the curved walls painted in a muted plum covering the clay he used to fill the holes in the stone he made them with, the plum was tastefully littered with framed artwork with white backgrounds and black or occasionally blue thick brushwork from his good friend Ziyal. Sitting on the floor lining the wall you’d find small shelves filled with different shoes organized not only by color but style. The neat row of shoes were sometimes accompanied by a few pairs of sneakers lazily kicked off beside the shelves if Garak hadn’t had enough time to tidy up before you appeared but despite him never leaving your sight they’d be put up properly by the time you left. If you were to look closely at the house’s first chu’en located in the entryway you’d find the windows of kenar that made them up each filled with their own assortment of vegetation making their own ecosystems, that if you were to inspect you’d find most weren’t of Cardassia, and if you knew enough about plants you’d recognize some were filled with nerve plants with pinkish red and white veins sitting on a carpet of moss sourced from Earth, some with burnt orange aquatic ferns submerged in green tinted water from Bajor, one or two filled halfway with dark blue balls of mold and the other half with water almost the same color as cheap kenar from Ferenginar, one with Irish wedding bells crowding every curve in the bottle with a few more that contained white sand and intricately placed moss making the appearance of a small hill of which were both from Earth, two filled with purple tinted water and vivid almost neon green and blue vines with feather like fronds from Trill, another one filled with red and green flowers with orange stems from Kronos, and one filled with only replicated water you’d never be able to guess was made in the replicator from security on deep space nine. If you were to ask Garak how he made each terrarium or why they were there he’d spin you some tale about how he made each one while traveling like how some people like to fill bottles with sand as mementos and he liked how they muted the sun, but anyone who Garak considered a close friend wouldn’t need to ask as they remembered making their own.
When you left the entryway you’d find yourself in his kitchen, and if you were distracted and truly weren’t paying any attention you’d walk hip first into the island in the center, although I can’t think of many reasons to find yourself distracted the kitchen was fairly standard considered to other Cardassian homes, of course with its own few modifications, like the garnet walls compared to the standard gray or the light fixture above the island hanging in various lengths with bulbous burnt orange glass light covers that let a warm glow throughout the space, but to the naked eye the countertops were the most ordinary part. They were the color of char made up of recycled materials like anyone else’s, but what you wouldn’t know is how Garak had spent hours sorting through the rubble of his childhood home to find remnants of his mother’s old quarters to have as a living piece of her in his home.
If you were to take a right at the kitchen you’d land in the living room painted the same shade of garnet as the kitchen, but unlike the kitchen you could tell this was the most lived in space despite how finely organized everything was from the right hand side walls littered with shelves full of different books sorted by their different cultures and genres, the emerald green chenille sofa up against the center of the left hand wall with a sapphire and amethyst knitted afghan thrown diagonally from the back of the sofa down to the side, the coffee table in the center made of the same deep brownish gray wood as the pergola in the back garden with occasional water rings found throughout despite there being an assortment of coasters found at the center of the table besides some metallic knickknacks. Surrounding the coffee table there was an accent chair and a loveseat across from the sofa both made out of the same material, configured for ample room to host a group of people. In front of the seating was a fireplace made up from stones, the only stones in the house not covered in clay or painted over allowing their differing shades of beige orange and brown to stand as a statement in the center almost as eye catching as the next of the chu’en in the house sitting besides the fireplace, this time instead of bottles filled with foliage every other bottle had different colored balls of yarn spilling out of the mouths of the bottles. Underneath the window was a well loved muted amethyst recliner that has followed Garak throughout the years accompanied by a small side table made of the same material as the coffee table that housed an assortment of crochet hooks, stitch markers, along with a single needle and pair of scissors. The room wouldn’t be lit with anything during the day time but at night the room would be warmed with the light of the fireplace or in summer seasons the singular lamp with four shades made to look like lilies of the valley hanging down standing near the well loved chair would fill in for the light of the fireplace.
However if you were to have gone straight from around the kitchen island and walked past a table with enough seats for 6- typically littered with books and PADDs when there was no guest to host- and into a small hallway you’d find 4 doors, one straight ahead leading to the back garden, one to your left and two to the right. If you chose to go into the door second to your right as Garak would instruct if you were an overnight visitor, you’d find yourself in the guest room. The least colorful and personalized room to suit the needs of any visitor who should need a place to stay, the walls a light gray with a window made of clear glass on the left wall facing out towards the garden accompanied by cream colored curtains in case you wanted to sleep in and the sunlight was too much for you. The room still had its own sparks of life strewn about whether it be from more art from Ziyal like the ones you found in the entryway or some more made by other artists, or the bouquet of flowers in a hip heigh vase in the corner of the room, or the burnt orange bedding with golden lining and cream colored pillowcases, or even the wooden bed frame with carved posts with spirals running down their length. On the right side of the room there’s a door leading to the bathroom which dawned lavender walls and light gray for the amenities with photos of constellations above the toilet and besides the door leading to the guest room and the door leading out to the hallway with a matching shower curtain. On the wall facing the exterior where the shower and tub combination was you’d find your last of the chu’en you’d see as a guest, this time the bottles colored and sawn in half and a few of the glasses held bars of soap, shampoo, and conditioner for your use.
The final door only two people including Garak have ever walked through, and if you found yourself suddenly as one of the pair when you opened the door you’d be greeted with muted sapphire clay walls with art sparingly sprinkled across. Some of the most notable were an oil painting with abstract smears of sapphire with earth sky blue and spots of gold on a black background framed above the dresser on the wall beside the door, another a pair of peacock feathers framed above the bed in the center of the room, and a pair of layered large circular glass each descending in size as they got closer to the wall and a white swirl on the outermost pane on the right next to the bathroom door. The bed was almost always perfectly made with a cycle of different sheets, usually in the winter a rich amethyst comforter with golden swirls and magenta silk pillowcases, in the spring a plush green blanket with a knitted cream throw at the foot of the bed with silk pillowcases matching the throw, in the summer nothing but a baby blue crocheted blanket with matching silk pillowcases, and in the fall a burnt orange comforter that matched the sands of cardassia with the same pillowcases as in the spring. There’s nightstands on each side of the bed both made from wood stained dark gray, each with their own chu’en above them, the nightstand to the right housed a small stuffed bear proudly standing watching the door with a new book or PADD sitting beside it at most every week and a glass of water at night, and the one to the left kept a vase with new flowers circulating at almost the same rate as the other’s books or PADDs accompanied by an assortment of skin care products, a pain medication or two, and typically the same books as the matching nightstand. If you looked to the right side corner next to the walk in closet there would be a fan typically only ran at night or on especially warm days besides it a dark gray desk with a computer built in and PADDs scattered all over the place possibly even a forgotten about mug that wouldn’t be there for more than a day with a light blue and gray desk chair, on the left side a matching desk and chair this one instead with sewing equipment filling each drawer and fabric laying across the desk besides a sewing machine and the wall decorated with different colored thread on spools hung on pegs and a full length mirror hanging where the desk ends.
If you were to go through the door across from Garak’s side of the bed you’d enter the bathroom with emerald painted walls, multiple towels and robes hanging next to the door, the gray sink stood in the center of the curved left wall, and a glass shower with metal trim off in the corner, but the pièce de résistance was the burnt orange rectangular tub in the center of the bathroom with thick enough ledges for a supply of bath products to stand on the corners, where you could sit comfortably while you put on your pants or waited for the water to reach the right temperature or where you could even sit and talk to another person while they bathed before inevitably deciding to join.
Not many people got the luxury of seeing the interior of Garak’s home, and only one his room. He’d rather keep most people out of a place so sacred to him, much rather people see the exterior and keep walking without ever knowing the true beauty that awaited inside, he could probably count on both hands the number of people he’d personally permitted inside, but that’s part of what made the home so special. It wasn’t the painted walls or art strewn about, it wasn’t his knickknacks, or even the furniture that made the house feel like his home, but the parts that wasn’t technically his or at least not sourced by him, and so long as they were there it didn’t really matter where he was so long as those things he didn’t find or the person he did was.