madeline_prince (madeline_prince) wrote in caer_gwynenid,

Madeline opens a door that seems to emerge from what was once some kind of shed. A large larch has grown out of it, making it useless. The house is perhaps 30 feet away, a drooping monster of an old building. This is the back yard, the door leading into a spacious kitchen. This room feels well loved, and is warm and tidy. Amarillo has taken dominion over one of the kitchen chairs.

"This is the kitchen," she says, somewhate uselessly, leading him further into the house, up a creaking flight of stairs, and down more hallways. As soon as they are away from the commonly used areas, a sense of gloom, long disuse, and old magic grows stronger. The portraits move and point and whisper, and a dog in one of them begins barking madly. "Hush, Skipper! Down, you rude curr!" Whining, the dog lays down.
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