[You close your eyes at ChΓ’teau Ambregris, and open them to the rain (and possibly some leaves) in your eyes.
The rain is light, almost a mist β itβs overcast, but not gloomy, with a glow behind the cloud cover β half-hiding the garden youβve woken up in. Some of the statues and the layout seem familiar, but they donβt quite look right, apart from appearing to have aged several hundred years in the meantime. There are also no flowers. Everything is hushed under the weather.
You feel a strange tug inside, like a prickle at the edge of your thoughts, occasionally intrusive. Somewhere in the low light and mist, you can spot a familiar gardener's cottage. And as you move around, you may spot a strange glint and a flash of incongruous orange deep in some (regular) garden bushes. The world is no longer your oyster, but this new(?) garden is.]
Week 2: Monday
The rain is light, almost a mist β itβs overcast, but not gloomy, with a glow behind the cloud cover β half-hiding the garden youβve woken up in. Some of the statues and the layout seem familiar, but they donβt quite look right, apart from appearing to have aged several hundred years in the meantime. There are also no flowers. Everything is hushed under the weather.
You feel a strange tug inside, like a prickle at the edge of your thoughts, occasionally intrusive. Somewhere in the low light and mist, you can spot a familiar gardener's cottage. And as you move around, you may spot a strange glint and a flash of incongruous orange deep in some (regular) garden bushes. The world is no longer your oyster, but this new(?) garden is.]