Velscarrow Indelwraith House and the Parlour Where the Last Evening Went Unfinished

The parlour of Velscarrow Indelwraith House still bears the dim outline of an evening that never properly concluded—teacups left cooling, hems waiting for repair, notes half-formed in the stale hush.

The Measured, Quiet Order of Serenya Indelwraith

Serenya Indelwraith, tutor of handwriting refinement and household arithmetic, lived with her cousin Halcor, a clasp-shaper whose craft diminished as suppliers vanished and winters grew long. She maintained the tallycrest alcove with tender precision—slates sorted by lesson, quills trimmed evenly, blotters rotated so clean corners stood ready.

Before each session she paced a small calming loop, murmuring numbers to ease the stiffness in her wrists. But as Halcor’s income thinned and her joints grew swollen, her once-predictable order trembled: slips went uncorrected, ink rims hardened into brittle crust, and the alcove softened into a quiet, sagging disorder that mirrored her fatigue.

The Passage Where Her Routine First Cracked

Along the inner east corridor, Serenya’s boots lean stiffly against the wainscot, leather hardened by neglect. Halcor’s unfinished clasp-shaping blanks, edges dulled by moisture, scatter near the baseboard. A cracked lamp chimney lies beside the dust cloth she dropped mid-stride and never recovered.

The Scullery Settling Into Its Own Quiet Decline

Inside the scullery, mismatched mugs hold pale rings of dried tea. A chalk-lined kettle rests beside the smoothing stone she once pressed into her palms on colder days. A linen apron surrenders into soft folds, hanging loose from its peg.

At the landing’s far corner rests Serenya’s last corrected slip—ink faint, margin trembling—beneath a shawl she meant to reclaim. Halcor’s incomplete clasp-blank remains beside it. Velscarrow Indelwraith House stays dim, unmoved, and indefinitely abandoned.