The door opens into an old ruined stone mansion. Half the walls and most of the roof are crumbling and overgrown with trees and vines of creeping ivy, letting in sun and moonlight to brighten the old and once grand halls that nature is reclaiming. There are vestiges of manmade glory and beauty here; intact stained glass in an otherwise broken wall, a beautiful marble fountain with exquisite sculptures missing heads, intricate tiled flooring whose patterns are now broken by weeds and grass.
But not every room is entirely dilapidated; an old study with cozy chairs and sturdy shelves is in surprisingly good shape. Plenty of room on the bare walls to hang things, and an alcove with a comfortable mattress (big enough for three or four even), cushions, and many blankets and pillows, seems newly rennovated, clean and comfortable. The fireplace in this room burns magically, ever warm but never stifling. Various lamps can be set to any light setting, for reading or rest. Yet even this sturdy room is missing most of one wall, leaving it feeling more open into the rest of the ruins.
A few other rooms might be salvaged with effort. Or left in cozy ruin. An old greenhouse that is more green than house, a library full of more trees than books, a foyer whose grandness of marble and gold is now entwined in flowers and weeds. And so on. The trees in the house and gardens are all fruit trees, such as pear, almond, and olive, though they never bear fruit for they are always in bloom.
Outside the crumbling mansion woodlands have taken over the back of the stately grounds, and the grand gardens out front have become their own sprawling meadow.
An old carp pond has eroded into a tiny lake where ducks, swans, fish and frogs dwell. Herons can be seen in the mornings here.
The mansion rose garden still holds many roses, overgrown and thorny but always in bloom. Likewise a million other flowers reign in colorful chaos. Red camellia and campanula chief among them. But a riot of other flowers spills out, meadowsweet, tulips of varying colors, aster, globe amaranth, heather, primrose, bird of paradise, yarrow, red and white chrysanthemums, honeysuckle, forget-me-nots and many many others. No matter the season or weather the flowers never seem to stop blooming here. And no sense need be made of their usual climate or season preference. Some die or are picked but new take their place soon enough.
And there are other flowers too; interspersed with the normal plants, red, strange flowers that glow in the dark. Though these do not seem to require blood to stay healthy. And purple plants that should be familiar to any who've spent too much time in DMC hell spread out from the gardens into a meadow. It is mainly composed of these unearthly purple blooms, though haphazardly mixed in that strange meadow are clover, dandelions and lupins, as if the hell flowers and the human ones belonged quite naturally side by side.
Butterflies and hummingbirds, small finches and curious squirrels flock here by day, and at night strange, beautiful moths and fireflies give the place a mysterious air to the backdrop music of crickets, frogs, and owls.
DESCRIPTION
But not every room is entirely dilapidated; an old study with cozy chairs and sturdy shelves is in surprisingly good shape. Plenty of room on the bare walls to hang things, and an alcove with a comfortable mattress (big enough for three or four even), cushions, and many blankets and pillows, seems newly rennovated, clean and comfortable. The fireplace in this room burns magically, ever warm but never stifling. Various lamps can be set to any light setting, for reading or rest. Yet even this sturdy room is missing most of one wall, leaving it feeling more open into the rest of the ruins.
A few other rooms might be salvaged with effort. Or left in cozy ruin. An old greenhouse that is more green than house, a library full of more trees than books, a foyer whose grandness of marble and gold is now entwined in flowers and weeds. And so on. The trees in the house and gardens are all fruit trees, such as pear, almond, and olive, though they never bear fruit for they are always in bloom.
Outside the crumbling mansion woodlands have taken over the back of the stately grounds, and the grand gardens out front have become their own sprawling meadow.
An old carp pond has eroded into a tiny lake where ducks, swans, fish and frogs dwell. Herons can be seen in the mornings here.
The mansion rose garden still holds many roses, overgrown and thorny but always in bloom. Likewise a million other flowers reign in colorful chaos. Red camellia and campanula chief among them. But a riot of other flowers spills out, meadowsweet, tulips of varying colors, aster, globe amaranth, heather, primrose, bird of paradise, yarrow, red and white chrysanthemums, honeysuckle, forget-me-nots and many many others. No matter the season or weather the flowers never seem to stop blooming here. And no sense need be made of their usual climate or season preference. Some die or are picked but new take their place soon enough.
And there are other flowers too; interspersed with the normal plants, red, strange flowers that glow in the dark. Though these do not seem to require blood to stay healthy. And purple plants that should be familiar to any who've spent too much time in DMC hell spread out from the gardens into a meadow. It is mainly composed of these unearthly purple blooms, though haphazardly mixed in that strange meadow are clover, dandelions and lupins, as if the hell flowers and the human ones belonged quite naturally side by side.
Butterflies and hummingbirds, small finches and curious squirrels flock here by day, and at night strange, beautiful moths and fireflies give the place a mysterious air to the backdrop music of crickets, frogs, and owls.