[Somewhere deep, deep in the crumbled, abandoned remains of what was once the slums of Merry Widow
, past a half-collapsed armory containing the charred and broken bits of disturbing weapons from a bygone era
, there is a rickety old house surrounded by a high wire fence. Perhaps once warm and welcoming, the building now holds all the nostalgia of a bombed-out schoolhouse in a forbidden and forgotten war zone.A hole has been cut in the chain link fence
, just large enough for a person to pass through. Beyond it, the entire wall of the building has been taken out, and the inside is rank with mildew and mist. Rotting books, pictures, wallpaper, and less identifiable substances have seeped into the surroundings, left to decompose where they fell years ago, the sad reminders of a life ended tragically quick
. Even the bandits (shady, violent criminals that have made a territory of the remains of the city) and the vagabonds (dusty, homeless wanderers with sticky fingers who hide in the cracks) have left this area well enough alone. It's too dilapidated to safely worldhop straight in, and too far into the ruins to be reached by car or mount. It seems impossible that a wheelchair might have come this way, but if one carefully examines the dusty ground between the jagged chunks of concrete, tire tracks (and deeper dragging tracks) are faintly visible.
There are more tracks inside the house, criss-crossing the filthy floor and the even more filthy remains of old carpets. There are signs that the stairs have been used as well -- not as recently as the tracks, but sometime after the house fell into disrepair. A year or so ago
, perhaps? The door at the top of the stairs
hangs drunkenly half-on, half-off its hinges, and the massive, echoing room beyond
is dark and in complete shambles. The rest of the building is hardly any brighter, half-buried as it is in the debris of the surrounding city. The depressing shades of gray give it the feeling of being frozen forever in some terrible moment in time, sealed off from the outside world of the living. And for a place that was once so filled with music, it is now stuffed to the seams with deadened silence.
It can't possibly be healthy to live here.
For all intents and purposes, nobody's home, and nobody has been for a while. But under the grime, some of the water bottles and garbage look newer than the rest, and there's plenty of nooks and crannies in the former music academy that are large enough to hide a person...]