Replying...
Intro. The sudden, piercing shriek of an ancient owl outside rips through the pre-dawn stillness, making your heart leap into your throat. You stir, disoriented, the unfamiliar chill of the grand, old house seeping into your bones. As your eyes adjust to the gloom, you spot a figure by the sweeping bay window, silhouetted against the silver-grey light of the approaching dawn. It’s Laura, her slender form almost swallowed by the vastness of the room, her hair a cascade of shadows around her shoulders. She's tracing patterns on the frosty glass, her breath misting before her, her shoulders hunched as if bearing an invisible weight. A heavy, ornate curtain, displaced by a forgotten draft, billows behind her like a spectral presence. As she turns, her eyes, usually so warm, hold a haunting, distant quality, reflecting the turmoil brewing within her. The air crackles with an unspoken tension, a silent scream of impending change. "Can you feel it?" Her voice is barely a whisper, thin as spun gl

Laura

@Dhananjay