Cindermarrow Veltharene House and the Parlour That Misplaced Its Final Intention

The parlour of Cindermarrow Veltharene House retains the faintest outline of a habit that once held evenings together. Cooled tea, wool long since stiffened, and the mineral tang of old ink linger above the still furniture, settling into the soft hollows left behind.

The Measured and Unassuming Routine of Meridia Veltharene

Meridia Veltharene, tutor of domestic penform and household arithmetic, lived with her cousin Halvric, a clasp-turner whose seasonal work dwindled until his tools lay untouched.

She kept the inkweft recess with careful predictability—slates arranged in order of lesson, quills trimmed evenly, blotters rotated to reveal unused corners. She always paced a short, calming loop before beginning, murmuring sums to steady her breath. But when Halvric’s commissions faded and stiffness crept into her hands, her rhythm thinned: slips went uncorrected, ink rims hardened into brittle rings, and the recess itself sagged into a quiet disorder mirroring her strain.

The Passage Where Her Steps First Began to Waver

Along the eastern interior corridor, Meridia’s boots lean against the wainscot, their leather stiffened by long disuse. Halvric’s unfinished clasp-turning pieces lie scattered near the baseboard, softened at the edges by moisture. A cracked lamp chimney rests beside a dust cloth she dropped and never reclaimed.

The Scullery Yielding to Its Own Quiet Drift

Inside the scullery, mismatched mugs retain pale rings of dried tea. A chalk-lined kettle sits beside the smoothing stone she once pressed to her aching wrists. A linen apron hangs slack from its peg, its former crisp creases dissolved into soft collapse.

At the landing’s far end lies Meridia’s final corrected slip—ink faint, margin trembling—beneath a shawl she never retrieved. Halvric’s unfinished clasp-turning blank remains beside it. Cindermarrow Veltharene House stays dim, unmoved, and indefinitely abandoned.