Briarhall [in the Bramblewold]

painted in PS, from pencil sketch on 11x14 paper

Briarhall stands alone on Thornehill  deep in the Bramblewold south of the vale of Wodir and the Thornahl range.
This region of Shirain, known as the Black Shires, is one of the least altered since the coming of the folk from Easten long ago.
Some say it is the very center of Luma while others claim it is but one house over from the most boring place in the world.
They may both be right. Or wrong. Simultaneously. But only in the evenings at 6-7... on tuesdays.

The Hall is the home of two very unusual women. They are like sisters or twins yet they are closer. And still further apart.
Mehlys-Aniar, her Lady Thorne is bright and red.
Brehnys-Aniar, the Lady Bramble is dark and dead.
The Living Lady and the dead, the Sleeping and the Awakened One.
United, they are the eternal Lady of Wold.

This is a paradox, and is, of course, confusing, as well it should be, conceived as it was by the whimsical trickster the Red Crow.
As is likely the entire Bramblewold itself, growing out as it does from the shadowy Elderweld, which hides the mysterious Darkwell.

But, for all this mystery and strangeness, Briarhall is a splendid place.
Bright and filled with light and breezes from the many windows, it is said one can hear wondrous tunes emanating from the blue-crowned hall on Thornehill.
And many animals are to be found there abouts.
For the messengers of Mehlys are the rabbit and the hare, swift and true, sensible and courageous.
Brehnys calls upon the rat and snake to aid when she has need. Wise and and able snake and fearless, curious rat are ever helpful companions.
All in all, Briarhall and its inhabitants are unusual yet familiar - The nuzzling comfortable and the prickling weird.

And in its way, this speaks to the nature of the Bramblewold - it is a shade beyond the woods they know in Easten and the Oldeshires.
It is an eclipse of leaf and limb, yet also the dream of bark and root; the touching of dark earth and bright sky, the cold stone and the warm breeze.
The very meeting place between the realms. And as such, a nexus between that which is and was and that which might never should have been.
A place of strange potential and frightening possibility.

Other bits.....