Rimeholt Veridranse House and the Parlour That Kept Its Last Quiet Hour

The parlour of Rimeholt Veridranse House holds a tempered quiet shaped by years rather than abandonment alone. The air tastes faintly of cooled tea, wool, and ink that once warmed through daily instruction. Upholstery curves inward where evening routines repeated until the fabric kept the memory of them.

The Measured Domestic Habit of Adrelle Veridranse

Adrelle Veridranse, tutor of household handwriting and modest sums, lived here with her cousin Brannic, a novice hinge-filer whose wages shifted unpredictably. Adrelle tended the tabling recess with care—quills trimmed to even points, blotters rotated, slates stacked in tidy rows. She walked a small arc before each lesson, murmuring figures beneath her breath. Yet as Brannic’s work thinned and her joints stiffened, her once-firm routine loosened. Pages waited uncorrected, ink rims hardened, and the recess took on the shape of her quiet fatigue.

The Corridor of Quietly Forgotten Steps

Down the east corridor, Adrelle’s boots angle inward, their laces stiff. Brannic’s warped hinge blanks lie scattered near the wainscot. A cracked lamp chimney rests beside a dust cloth she never stooped to retrieve.

The Scullery Where Habit Softened Apart

Inside the scullery, mugs bear pale rings of dried tea. A chalk-rimmed kettle stands beside the smoothing stone Adrelle used to soothe her aching hands. A linen apron droops from its peg, its last defined crease dissolved.

At the landing’s far end lies Adrelle’s final corrected slip—ink faint, margins trembling—beneath a shawl she never reclaimed. Brannic’s unfinished hinge sits beside it. Rimeholt Veridranse House remains dim, still, and indefinitely abandoned.