The Sunken Roost
At the heart of the Quarter of Dust and Bone, where the weight of Dum Ramil’s history presses down on those who have the least, stands the Sunken Roost—a tenement that leans as if weary of its own existence. To those who live within its failing walls, it is home, though many would call it a prison of circumstance.
A Building in Protest
The Sunken Roost is a place forever in a state of repair, its wooden beams groaning under the strain of generations stacked upon one another. Walls sag, ceilings buckle, and staircases creak like the weary bones of an old beast, but somehow, it still stands. Residents work tirelessly to mend it, nailing new planks over old holes, reinforcing supports with whatever scrap they can find, and praying that the next sandstorm will not bring it all crashing down.
Despite its precarious state, the Roost is alive. The air is thick with the scent of spiced food wafting from open windows, voices echoing through the cramped corridors. Families dwell in spaces far too small, children weave through the halls in games of make-believe, and elders gather in dimly lit rooms to tell stories of the past. It is a place of hardship, but also of community, where survival is a shared burden.
A Place of Tenacity and Hope
Life in the Sunken Roost is not kind, but neither is it without its moments of joy. Here, friendships are forged in struggle, and alliances are made out of necessity. There is no luxury of solitude, only the unspoken agreement that everyone must do what they can to keep the Roost standing—because if it falls, so do they.
But there are whispers, muttered in quiet corners—that the Sunken Roost does not wish to stand much longer. That the very walls resent their occupants. That one day, it will collapse—not by accident, but by choice.
"The Sunken Roost has stood longer than it should. But everything that leans must one day fall."
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