The eerie quiet of the castle is unsettling, but the fact of it looking so dire and abandoned had been the appeal from a distance β GwenaΓ«lle, riding hard through the night with only what she could carry on horseback, has not had the opportunity to hear tell of demons or monsters, has thoroughly human devilry dogging her heels, and has no desire to stop and speak with anyone in the nearest settlements to hear whatever they might tell. They might then tell of her,
and that wouldn't do at all. So she is hoping for a place as empty as it looks, as forlorn and abandoned. A risk to come through the front doors, in case it isn't, but surely ... surely if it wasn't, then it would be locked. Then she wouldn't be able to just walk in, gathering her cloak tightly around herself, moving cautiously.
The sound of β something? she can't tell. There is a sound, but she had seen the trees against the windows and the stone, knows the poor weather chasing behind her, and all of these things have reasonable explanations. Maybe it hasn't been abandoned long enough to be bereft of anything of value, and maybe she can make use of that...
βIf you don't like something,β she mutters to herself, βchange it.β
When he ranges nearer, there she is: a slight thing, mostly obscured by a heavy cloak lined with fur, fighting with a tinder-box to light the nearest lamp.
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and that wouldn't do at all. So she is hoping for a place as empty as it looks, as forlorn and abandoned. A risk to come through the front doors, in case it isn't, but surely ... surely if it wasn't, then it would be locked. Then she wouldn't be able to just walk in, gathering her cloak tightly around herself, moving cautiously.
The sound of β something? she can't tell. There is a sound, but she had seen the trees against the windows and the stone, knows the poor weather chasing behind her, and all of these things have reasonable explanations. Maybe it hasn't been abandoned long enough to be bereft of anything of value, and maybe she can make use of that...
βIf you don't like something,β she mutters to herself, βchange it.β
When he ranges nearer, there she is: a slight thing, mostly obscured by a heavy cloak lined with fur, fighting with a tinder-box to light the nearest lamp.