Skylorn Thrennisholm House and the Parlour That Sank Into Its Own Stillness

The parlour of Skylorn Thrennisholm House holds a depth of stillness shaped by long-faded habits. The scent of cooled tea clings faintly beneath wool and dust. Upholstery sinks inward, responding only to the memory of movements that once smoothed its fabric.

Furniture angles gently toward the room’s center, as though gravity itself nudged everything into a single, inward fold.

The Introspective Routine of Alderyn Mave Thrennisholm

Alderyn Mave Thrennisholm, a tutor of household arithmetic and reading fluency, lived here with her younger cousin Leovar, an apprentice book-press hand whose wages came sporadically. Alderyn fashioned the ledgering niche into a careful world: slates stacked by challenge level, pencils trimmed evenly, quills sharpened, practice slips sorted into neat paper bands. She walked the same half-circle before each session, murmuring numbers to steady her thoughts. As Leovar’s hours dwindled and Alderyn’s joints stiffened from the cold, their income thinned. Lessons grew scarce. Ink rims dried. Pages waited uncorrected until their corners curled. Her routines sagged, losing definition one small gesture at a time, mirrored precisely by the niche around her.

The Corridor Where Her Rhythm Began to Slip

In the south corridor, Alderyn’s boots rest crooked against the wainscot, their laces stiffened from neglect. Leovar’s misaligned book-press plates lie near a cracked lamp chimney. A dust cloth she dropped mid-task remains exactly where it landed.

The Scullery Where Habit Softened Into Pause

Inside the scullery, mugs show pale rings of evaporated tea. A kettle rimmed with chalk sits beside the cooling stone Alderyn held to her aching hands. A linen apron hangs without form from its peg, its last crisp fold long surrendered.

At the landing’s far reach, Alderyn’s final corrected page—ink faint and trembling—rests beneath a shawl she never reclaimed. Leovar’s smallest press wedge lies beside it, dulled from idle years. Skylorn Thrennisholm House remains motionless, its rooms dimming softly, indefinitely abandoned.