House of Quiet

Lucian and Madeline have gone off on a hunt. Julian and Nonny have gone to visit her family, which leaves me with.. I’m not sure if there is anyone left in the house.

I’ve never been here alone before, not for any length of time. Noises that I wouldn’t give a second thought spur my imagination, and sometimes.. I swear I’m hearing unfamiliar whispers. I know it’s the fact that I have been cooped up here for days, studying, with no outside stimulation to turn my thoughts from the macabre. Several times I have found myself in Julian’s room, staring down at an empty crib, the last thing I want to look at. I suddenly have too much time to think.

Twice now I’ve been going to go see him, a map left for me on how to get to Nonny’s home, and twice I have found myself dressed and at the ready, but I do not go and I cannot understand why. Instead, I turn and make my way back to my room, remove my cloak and sit in the chair near the window staring out at the branches of the tree that continuously scratch at the glass, as if its trying to get inside.

I haven’t even studied much these past few days, my attention waning far too much for the intake of any amount of information. And what’s worse, is I feel as if I am being drawn to read, not books, but cards, a reading for myself, which I have done only two other times in my life, both times spurred by others. As of yet, I have been able to resist, but I know my resistance is weakening ahn by ahn.

There is a reason I do not read for myself, a reason buried in superstition bounded by generations. The cards cannot be used for self gain, to see our own futures, and such readings could be disastrous. Certain rules must be followed, even for me, regardless of their beckoning. Wine blocks their whispers, but sleep brings unwanted dreams.

It’s so hard to choose.