Doctor December
Star
- Joined
- Nov 27, 2017
The Transylvanian Corner of the Carpathian Mountains
Twenty-third of November, 1896
Thanks to the dark clouds overhead, nightfall had crept its way to the mountains earlier this evening than most, and far quicker. In the village at the mountains' base, the townspeople silently and almost unanimously each expressed a surprised thought that the sun had only taken a moment to set whilst they had been looking the other way. Almost every shop, cafe, and storefront quickly closed so that their anxious keepers could scuttle back home to leave their places of business as dark as the overcast.
The only establishment still in operation in any capacity was the train station. This was the last stop it made in bleak Transylvania. In fact, within view of the boarding platform, one could even see where the tracks hastily curve to go almost back in the direction where they came. A logic-minded person would reason that this was because it was likely quite difficult to build tracks on and operate a locomotive through the jagged, steep, gray claws of rock, and the train was only moving to give itself the distance to go around them. The more superstitious, however, might agree that the train is avoiding the things within the mountains- the devils hiding in the patches of forest, waiting in the caves, or watching from the cliffs. Whatever the reason, practical or paranoid, anyone wishing to go further would need to do so by foot, horseback, or carriage.
Conveniently, through those mountains, there was only one place to go. The dirt road north of the town twisted up into the rocks and woods until it reached the red stone remains of a massive castle. Its three towers, one taller than another and it in turn taller the last by a few stories each, looked to be stable (for now) but sharp with wear. Indeed, from a distance, they might have looked like jagged rocks sprouting out themselves if not for their difference in color from the stone of the mountains.
The fog was heavy and wet and cold that night, but one could still make out the castle even from the village. Perhaps what made the villagers more uncomfortable than the weather was that for once in what seemed like years, a few of the windows in the towers flickered with warm, yellow, yet haunting light, as if for the first time in a very long time, the castle was expecting a guest.
Twenty-third of November, 1896
Thanks to the dark clouds overhead, nightfall had crept its way to the mountains earlier this evening than most, and far quicker. In the village at the mountains' base, the townspeople silently and almost unanimously each expressed a surprised thought that the sun had only taken a moment to set whilst they had been looking the other way. Almost every shop, cafe, and storefront quickly closed so that their anxious keepers could scuttle back home to leave their places of business as dark as the overcast.
The only establishment still in operation in any capacity was the train station. This was the last stop it made in bleak Transylvania. In fact, within view of the boarding platform, one could even see where the tracks hastily curve to go almost back in the direction where they came. A logic-minded person would reason that this was because it was likely quite difficult to build tracks on and operate a locomotive through the jagged, steep, gray claws of rock, and the train was only moving to give itself the distance to go around them. The more superstitious, however, might agree that the train is avoiding the things within the mountains- the devils hiding in the patches of forest, waiting in the caves, or watching from the cliffs. Whatever the reason, practical or paranoid, anyone wishing to go further would need to do so by foot, horseback, or carriage.
Conveniently, through those mountains, there was only one place to go. The dirt road north of the town twisted up into the rocks and woods until it reached the red stone remains of a massive castle. Its three towers, one taller than another and it in turn taller the last by a few stories each, looked to be stable (for now) but sharp with wear. Indeed, from a distance, they might have looked like jagged rocks sprouting out themselves if not for their difference in color from the stone of the mountains.
The fog was heavy and wet and cold that night, but one could still make out the castle even from the village. Perhaps what made the villagers more uncomfortable than the weather was that for once in what seemed like years, a few of the windows in the towers flickered with warm, yellow, yet haunting light, as if for the first time in a very long time, the castle was expecting a guest.
