Eldremorn Vystralene House and the Parlour That Missed Its Final Evening Routine

The parlour of Eldremorn Vystralene House retains the softened shape of a routine interrupted—fabric cooling on the table, tea left unfinished, and the quiet sag of work paused mid-thought.

The Measured Life of Averine Vystralene

Averine Vystralene, tutor of household sums and polished handwriting, lived with her cousin Haldren, a clasp-groover whose contracts shrank until his tools remained untouched. Averine built her days around gentle consistency: morning lessons at the escritoire, midday mending by the lamplight, and evenings marking arithmetic slips while tea steeped nearby.

But when Haldren’s income dwindled and her joints stiffened, her structured rhythm wavered. Slates went unreviewed, hems remained unthreaded, baskets grew tangled, and her once-steady workspace softened into lists unfinished and fabrics left draped across chairs. The debt that followed forced their sudden departure, leaving the rooms to sag into silence.

The Corridor Where Her Rhythm First Slowed

Along the inner north hallway, Averine’s boots lean stiffly against the wainscot, leather hardened by seasons of disuse. Haldren’s unfinished clasp-grooving blanks scatter near the baseboard, edges dulled by damp. A dust cloth lies exactly where she set it down the final evening she attempted to tidy the corridor.

The Scullery Yielding Softly to Time

Inside the scullery, mismatched mugs cradle pale rings of dried tea. A chalk-lined kettle rests beside the smoothing stone she once pressed against her palm on colder days. Her linen apron hangs limp, folds long surrendered into shapeless drape.

At the landing’s far end lies Averine’s final corrected slip—ink faint, margin trembling—beneath the shawl she meant to reclaim. Haldren’s unfinished clasp blank rests beside it. Eldremorn Vystralene House remains dim, unmoved, and abandoned.