Cora Ambrosia Husher

Oh, the Encircling Tantra. I didn't realize Hush House had this...

"Tonight's dinner is Entrecôte à la Béarnaise; season and grilled sirloin steaks topped at each end by Pommes Chateau, brushed lightly with meat glaze and bordered all around by a thick Sauce Béarnaise, a derivative of Hollandaise flavored by tarragon, shallots, and vinegar."

"And my soul tossed, and tossed, an outworn wreck,
Mastless, upon a monstrous, shoreless sea."

Tonight's dinner is stuffed wild quail; a delicacy in the Mt. Holly region of Fenn Aries, it is served atop the traditional trappings of the meal; plum aigre-doux, roasted potatoes, bacon lardons and wild chives.

Sorting the books, even today.

Duck eggs and home-made french toast is her breakfast.

Good morning.

"Write a truth in a book that no-one reads. Then drop dead. No-one knows what you wrote. Unless the truth is 𝘯𝘶𝘮𝘦𝘯."

Seal the book in the brightest room in the house. Leave behind no shadow. Call upon the Forge of Days, who will end all nights...

... The Wolf-Word. The Wolf-Word...!!

SUMMON ALIEN GODS

... This book is infested with Bloodlines -

Back, back! Remove all the furniture! Seal the doors, lash with gervinite chains! Where are the moths? Where are those damned moths?

"The books here are pre-approved for handling. You may browse as you wish."

At the opposite wall stands a bookwheel, on which already-open books wait patiently for their turn in rotation beside a lectern and desk. The room was innocuous, but the chill remained, enough that Husher's breaths hung through the air like dragonsmoke.
--

like hot air waving through winter's chill. She strikes the switch to bring the diodic lights on, vastly improving the room's attitude than it would to grope around in some dark chamber.

One wall is dominated by shelves, floor to ceiling, lined with books of varying thickness and age.
--

"No."

The unhelpful and terse response is given no further elaboration as she works to unlock a door, taking at least several moments as she undoes one, two, three latches, then releasing a padlock using a key that was kept at her hip.

As she opens the door, a thin brume wafts from the crack,
--

Good afternoon.

7. St Brandan's Cloister was built by the sisters and brothers of the Abbey in the 13th century, the height of the period which Librarians regard as the 'Solar Gothic' Period. The open air garden's flowers bloom blue crowns through winter and spring, with sea hollies the other seasons.

Afterwards, the Very Reverend Solomon Husher, Third Librarian of the Curia of the Isle, brought in the striking tapestry and made this room his preferred living quarters. Apparently the cold didn't much bother him.

6. The final floor of the Long Tower has been generally considered the coldest room in Hush House. For this reason, the Long Tower was usually called the Winter Tower until the magus and reputed Obliviate Julian Cosely stayed in this room in the 17th century.

Numa has arrived.

“Follow me. If you begin to feel skin prickling, your inner light guttering, or your fifth eye opening, please extricate yourself immediately. Thank you.”

“I will attend you,” Husher replies. “Hush House is large, and much of it is not open to you. I cannot allow a visitor to go unattended.”

With one arm she gestures forward, before going in that direction, opening the door to the next room and walking inside.
—

Another night passes over Hush House...

It's time for a tour.

1 ❤️ = 1 room in the Hush House.