Where could she have gone? The gates were closed--he hadn't checked the stables yet, but that was where he was going next. If she'd taken a horse they would have to get out looking for her as soon as possible.
"The artist deals with what cannot be said in words. The artist whose medium is fiction does this in words. The novelist says in words what cannot be said in words." --Ursula K. Le Guin
(I don’t want to break cannon, so what rooms would realistically be open?)
Aleth hurried down the hall as fast as he comfortably could without putting his toes in danger, trying each of the doors he passed. Locked. Locked. Locked. Locked. Loquitur was right — Ash was a paranoid fool. It seemed his entire house was locked down. Locked. Locked. Lock—
The handle twisted.
Aleth rapped on the door then pushed it open without waiting for a response.
"u and rina are systematically watering down the grammar of yws" - Atticus "From the fish mother to the fish death god." - lehmanf "A fish stole my identity. I blame shady" - Omni [they/he]
(Any room without something incriminating or revealing. So basically maybe ten bedrooms, toilets, one or two private study rooms, a parlor or three. I dunno, I don't have any specific unlocked rooms in mind)
Gaius hurried down to the stables. "Have you seen Cecily?" he asked the head groom. "Not since last night," he replied. "She was wandering. I had Tiller see here back to the Keep, my Lord." "Are any of your horses missing?" The groom exhaled, sobering. "One of the Iron-geldings." He gestured to an empty stall.
"The artist deals with what cannot be said in words. The artist whose medium is fiction does this in words. The novelist says in words what cannot be said in words." --Ursula K. Le Guin
It was just a bedroom -- and an empty one at that. He made a quick pass around it, checking to see if there was any helpful information to be gleaned, but there wasn't. He started back down the hall, checking each doorknob again.
"u and rina are systematically watering down the grammar of yws" - Atticus "From the fish mother to the fish death god." - lehmanf "A fish stole my identity. I blame shady" - Omni [they/he]
Gaius looked from the empty stall to the door of the stables, and his heart gave a panicked leap. "Ready my mare immediately," he said, trying to keep the tremor from his voice. "And have a servant bring me my riding clothes. I'll wait here. Notify Lady Ash as well." The groom snapped his fingers at one of his assistants and the boy sprinted out the door. Gaius set to pacing, cane tapping anxiously across the cobbles as he glanced repeatedly at the snow-covered ground outside. It was blessedly still today--there had been a blizzard the previous night but now it was quite quiet save the birds in the trees outside the Keep.
"The artist deals with what cannot be said in words. The artist whose medium is fiction does this in words. The novelist says in words what cannot be said in words." --Ursula K. Le Guin
Aleth continued down the hall, snooping through an unlocked parlor that he came to, but moving on when he saw that there wasn't any helpful information to be had from there, either. He continued his trek of hobbling along trying the doorknobs.
"u and rina are systematically watering down the grammar of yws" - Atticus "From the fish mother to the fish death god." - lehmanf "A fish stole my identity. I blame shady" - Omni [they/he]
The horse was ready before the servant arrived. Gaius had been about to mount when the old woman came bustling out of the Keep with his overcoat, heavy fur-trimmed cloak, wolf fur ushanka, gloves, and snow boots in her arms. "Good luck, my Lord," she said as Gaius tugged the items on and mounted the mare with the head groom's help. Gaius gave a curt nod and nudged the mare towards the gates. She was a good creature, noble and sturdy. Gaius had bought her from a group of Far Northerners who had journeyed further south than normal, so she bore the trademark wooly white coat and blue eyes of a Far North horse. The gates creaked open, and Gaius urged her into a gallop.
"The artist deals with what cannot be said in words. The artist whose medium is fiction does this in words. The novelist says in words what cannot be said in words." --Ursula K. Le Guin
Aleth found a toilet and two more bedrooms, but everything else was locked down. He kept wandering, making a mental note of where he found each room and how many locked doors were in between. He might not be able to get in just then, but he could still start working on his mental map of the keep.
"u and rina are systematically watering down the grammar of yws" - Atticus "From the fish mother to the fish death god." - lehmanf "A fish stole my identity. I blame shady" - Omni [they/he]
(Sorry Aleth doesn't have much to do right now! Would you like it if he found a useful room? Gaius isn't perfect; he might have missed one.)
The pounding of the the mare's hooves were the only sound as Gaius cleared the gate and sped into the forest. The wind whipped into his face as he rode, stinging his cheeks as if to say, You don't belong here! Go back to your stone cage and stay there! It was bitterly cold even with the warm clothes, and for a split second Gaius was tempted to turn back. But no, he couldn't do that. His sister needed him and her child was worried about her. He couldn't live with himself if she were lost to the beasts out in the woods.
"The artist deals with what cannot be said in words. The artist whose medium is fiction does this in words. The novelist says in words what cannot be said in words." --Ursula K. Le Guin
(All good! Sure, that sounds good to me ^-^ Spice it up a bit lol What do you think would be realistic for Gaius to have missed?)
The Keep was large. Aleth hadn't even managed to make it through an entire floor, despite this whole time that he'd been wandering around. As he neared the end of his second hallway, he found another unlocked room and eagerly went inside, half-expecting just to find another toilet.
"u and rina are systematically watering down the grammar of yws" - Atticus "From the fish mother to the fish death god." - lehmanf "A fish stole my identity. I blame shady" - Omni [they/he]
(There'll be a parlor with some documents regarding the family history that he night not want people to read. Nothing particularly incriminating but just not good family stuff)
There were no tracks for him to follow, and there would be no scene for the hounds; if Cecily had left last night, the storm would cover any movement she made.
"The artist deals with what cannot be said in words. The artist whose medium is fiction does this in words. The novelist says in words what cannot be said in words." --Ursula K. Le Guin
Aleth found another parlor. He went inside, his eyes flicking around the space. At this point, it was beginning to feel like snooping in this godsforsaken keep was futile -- but he was nothing if not thorough, so he began methodically scanning each inch of the room for anything that might be of interest.
"u and rina are systematically watering down the grammar of yws" - Atticus "From the fish mother to the fish death god." - lehmanf "A fish stole my identity. I blame shady" - Omni [they/he]
(There'll be an end table with a false bottom somewhere.)
(I have nothing to add at the moment)
"The artist deals with what cannot be said in words. The artist whose medium is fiction does this in words. The novelist says in words what cannot be said in words." --Ursula K. Le Guin
(Ooh, okay, awesome! Do you have a direction we're heading? I'm just kind of winging it lol)
Aleth brushed his fingertips across each surface that looked like it even might hold a secret. Nothing. Nothing. Nothi-- wait a second. Aleth drummed his fingers on the side of a table next to a large overstuffed chair, listening to the tell-tale thud of a hollow space. He knelt and began looking for the way to open the hidden compartment.
"u and rina are systematically watering down the grammar of yws" - Atticus "From the fish mother to the fish death god." - lehmanf "A fish stole my identity. I blame shady" - Omni [they/he]
(Cecily is gonna turn up for sure, but Gaius won't find her. She'll turn up about a week from now.)
(The compartment will reveal letters between Lord Septimus Ash and Lady Barraster's father. There will also be a journal belonging to Gwynna Ash.)
"The artist deals with what cannot be said in words. The artist whose medium is fiction does this in words. The novelist says in words what cannot be said in words." --Ursula K. Le Guin
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