Fallowrest Nythrindale House and the Parlour That Left Its Final Hem Unturned

The parlour of Fallowrest Nythrindale House preserves the final pause of a routine once steady: stitching half-done, supper cooling unnoticed, teacups left to settle beneath a film of dust.

The Gentle, Sequential Order of Rhenira Nythrindale

Rhenira Nythrindale, tutor of household sums and script refinement, lived with her cousin Selbor, a clasp-aligner whose contracts dwindled as workshop orders dried up. Rhenira kept a precise domestic rhythm—slates stacked by lesson, quills trimmed evenly, hems folded before dusk.

Her afternoons belonged to quiet mending, her evenings to arithmetic pages reviewed by lamplight. But when Selbor’s income vanished and winter stiffened her hands, her certainty dissolved. Thread baskets grew tangled, corrected slips went untouched, and each day’s structure softened into gentle disarray. The bills they failed to meet forced a hasty departure, leaving the interior behind to sag into stillness.

The Corridor Where Her Tempo First Faltered

Along the inner east hallway, Rhenira’s boots lean stiffly against the wainscot, leather hardened by seasons of disuse. Selbor’s unfinished clasp-alignment blanks lie scattered near the baseboard, edges dulled by moisture. A dust cloth lies where her grip weakened on a cold evening—never retrieved.

The Scullery Yielding Quietly to Disuse

Inside the scullery, mismatched mugs cradle pale rings of dried tea. A chalk-lined kettle sits beside the smoothing stone she once pressed into restless palms. Her linen apron hangs slack, its folds surrendered into soft collapse.

At the far end rests Rhenira’s final corrected slip—ink faint, margin trembling—beneath the shawl she meant to reclaim. Selbor’s unfinished clasp blank lies beside it. Fallowrest Nythrindale House remains dim, untouched, and abandoned.