Miniwrimo 22
She pressed down the handle. It did not yield. Frowning and stepping back to look at it closer. There were no hinges visible. She grabbed it firmer and bumped her shoulder into it. There was a cracking noise and the wood gave some.
She backed up and looked at the door again.
Dust and a musty smell drifted out of the doorway. Light crept across the floor. She peered into the space. She drew closer and cautiously crossed the threshold. There were no windows, the only light coming from the now-open door. There were lights hanging from the ceiling, pipes of electrical conduit between them. She felt the wall on either side of the door. It took her a minute to find what she was looking for. The switch flicked upwards with a metallic click, but nothing changed. She flicked it back down. It was too much to expect after seven decades of neglect.
The structure was much more closed than anything she had ever seen among the Getier. In Geteilpohth the structures were open and airy, allowing light and air circulation. This place was built like a fortress, and rightly so she imagined giving the valley's history. The interior was insulated by thick walls of rock.
She pulled out a candle and brushed the wick with her fingertips, igniting and illuminating the space with its warm, flickering light. About ten feet in the ceiling rose and the space expanded beyond the reach of the candle. She followed the wall to her right.
I have no idea what I'm doing with this stuff, just waffling about and seeing what sticks.
The first alcove she came to had an open doorway. It was a small residence. Brehtnsoln might have summer and winter residences. In the winter holeing up in the mountains, during the summers residing in more open structures.