Adrian glanced around herself in total, utter darkness, feeling around for any form of light. An auto-lantern found its way to her hand, and as a golden glow filled the room, her senses were shocked awake. Her heartbeat quickened while her eyes devoured the scene around her–more seemed to be appearing every second: chests (full of what?)...paintings she couldn’t make out……all of it here, in the very top corner of the place many before her had called home. 
Or a prison, in some cases. 
Addy moved forward into the mass of trinkets in awe, too stunned to run her fingers along anything just yet. Occasional glints from the metals strewn about the attic caught her gaze, and in this moment, she wished to uncover everything her eyes possibly laid on. She felt much too small when she looked up at the wooden, domed ceiling from which a dim lantern hung, the Valdian emblems on its sides reflecting onto the walls. As more and more revealed itself to her from the pitch, Addy found herself being drawn to the numerous works of art that weren’t hidden under cloth or dusty sheets. Her eyes glazed over oil characters and acrylic landscapes, and she wondered if these paintings were of existing nature or of imagination. Whatever they are, they’re pretty, she decided. Addy approached a golden-framed one that had to be at least three times her height–for an attic, she thought, this room’s got quite the ceiling. As the length of the painting came into her view, she began  to recognize more of it. She’d seen him before…somewhere. Or maybe he just looked a lot like her mother–maybe even herself, to Addy’s gentle alarm. The first thing she noticed was how deep-set his eyes were. Though they weren’t gray like hers, they were still swirling with storms. She couldn’t put her finger on what it is they were holding back, but she knew it was something that jumped out at you whenever it’s evoked. Addy’s intent scanned the painting downward, and she took in the deep crimsons of his attire. Then, her eyes flicked all the way back up to the top. A delicate crown rested upon his chestnut-swept head. 
This is my mother’s father. She knew because, that thing in his eyes? It’s mischief. Not like June’s, though; it’s playful mischief that makes me want him to read me a bedtime story, instead of making me want to run from the words. Addy no longer wanted to look at his face–let alone his crown. Despite how unsettled her grandfather’s expression made her feel, however, Addy felt herself being pulled in by the brushstrokes. She approached the gold engraving at the bottom of the wooden frame. The name she read rang a distant bell in her mind. Theon Jinx: Addy had heard it a couple times prior, most times in the form of subtle abhorrence. June tried to hide it, Addy knew, but her grandfather’s name always prickled like thorns on the Overseer’s tongue.