[If Steve thinks that this area is large now...it will be something once he follows her into the main cavern. The walls of this area aren't smooth, not even close, and they wind this way and that until depositing the pair into the main area within the mountain. A cavern whose highest point reaches well above the mast of his ship, with floors smoothed away by the times she's cleaned it and walked across them over the decades. The cavern opens at the top, and if his vision is quite good he may see the violent shaking of palms through that opening, hear the wind and see some of the rain drip through.
The water falls to a large, natural formation in the ground that holds fresh water. Around it are a series of mismatched chairs with similarly mismatched cushions at the seats, and occasionally wraps and blankets draped over the backs.
The entire cavern is full of salvaged furniture, taken from the holds of wrecked ships or from the ship's interiors themselves. It's a common room, with all of the necessities in one place but bathing and sleeping. A person could sit and read, could cook, could do most anything in that open space. At the far end he may even see a small garden of plants thriving despite the cover.
And at the walls of the cavern there are openings, tunnels that are more narrow that lead to other places. Her bedroom. Other bedrooms. Bathing chambers and even a few longer tunnels through the mountain to the other end of the island. Wanda shivers once in the cool of the room, but sets the torch she's lit in a holder at the end of the tunnel they walked through. The placement of the torch sparks a line that travels to other torches in the room, lighting them all. Or at least, it seems to be a sort of mechanical result. In truth, Wanda's long since enchanted the torches to light when another is, to give her visibility in what might be an otherwise pitch-black cave.]
Survival is not one of the harder things about living here, thankfully. Those who were here before me....there must have been many of them to have created this shelter. I've benefited greatly from it.
[As for loneliness...]
The quiet has been the hardest part. There's only so long a person can stand to listen to themselves and only themselves. Most people are not meant to bear only their own company.
no subject
The water falls to a large, natural formation in the ground that holds fresh water. Around it are a series of mismatched chairs with similarly mismatched cushions at the seats, and occasionally wraps and blankets draped over the backs.
The entire cavern is full of salvaged furniture, taken from the holds of wrecked ships or from the ship's interiors themselves. It's a common room, with all of the necessities in one place but bathing and sleeping. A person could sit and read, could cook, could do most anything in that open space. At the far end he may even see a small garden of plants thriving despite the cover.
And at the walls of the cavern there are openings, tunnels that are more narrow that lead to other places. Her bedroom. Other bedrooms. Bathing chambers and even a few longer tunnels through the mountain to the other end of the island. Wanda shivers once in the cool of the room, but sets the torch she's lit in a holder at the end of the tunnel they walked through. The placement of the torch sparks a line that travels to other torches in the room, lighting them all. Or at least, it seems to be a sort of mechanical result. In truth, Wanda's long since enchanted the torches to light when another is, to give her visibility in what might be an otherwise pitch-black cave.]
Survival is not one of the harder things about living here, thankfully. Those who were here before me....there must have been many of them to have created this shelter. I've benefited greatly from it.
[As for loneliness...]
The quiet has been the hardest part. There's only so long a person can stand to listen to themselves and only themselves. Most people are not meant to bear only their own company.