Nestled upon a fairly forgotten stretch of beach can be found a path cutting through tall marshgrass. Only those blessed by the Dreaming can spot the low crumbling sandstone walls that edge it, leading away from the beach and across low, rolling sand and dry grass hills towards what can only be described as a sand castle, seeming to have been created by some vast giant's hands and placed upon a rise to overlook the Carribbean.
The structure shimmers in all lights - nearly blindingly in sunlight, hypnotically in moonlight and delicately in mere starlight or cloud cover. As castles go, it's rather small, having only four towers - one prominent and ocean-facing, the rest lower and directed towards the other cardinal directions. The Dreaming thrums with life around the structure, the pale walls traced with signs of age and neglect, occasional vagrant greenery poking through where it found purchase to grow. The age somehow merely defines the character of the freehold though, giving it a sense of strength and ability to persevere. The wide open gates are flanked by the requisite guards wearing tabbards of silver and red over their armor, the proud lion of Fiona marking clearly the house that holds these lands on tabbards, penants and metalwork throughout the freehold.
The interior offers welcome respite from the heat days can take on, soothingly cool stone making up the bulk of the expansive interior, the windows left to the higher parts of the walls or only narrow slivers where they drop down low. Somehow, despite the lack of natural light it would seem, the interior is perfectly lit via well placed torches placed high by troll hands or boggans armed with ladders.
The main chamber into which the public is allowed dominates the lower level in the middle of the building, a circular room fitted within the diamond of the Castle whole. Tapestries hang from the walls depicting legendary scenes of battle, peace, love and prosperity all in turn, their weaving and beauty the thing artists in autumn strive their entire existance to attain yet come just short of in most cases. All the colors seem to show just as vividly as is needed to suggest their subjects and not an ounce beyond, filling the room with vibrancy it would lack otherwise. Furniture is arrayed about, in places grouped for conversations to be enjoyed there, in other places arranged more solitary to allowed rest and quiet reading. It is the place where the echo of the balefire is held, however, that truly commands the room.
It is set upon a shallow dias inlaid with pearls, carefully cut shards of crystal and seaglass: an open half of a pristine white oyster shell, the inside lining reflecting the myriad of colors the balefire shines, like sunlight reflecting off the surfaces of a prism at all times. The flames flicker strong, warm and true, though none are allowed untowardly close to the dias thanks to two stoic troll guards always there to man it, the guard changing throughout the day.
Other rooms the average kithain are allowed to venture into include the satyr-managed but boggan-run kitchen, should the head chef not chase the visitor away with some sort of cooking implement. There's a few side tables set up for those seeking a snack, foods constantly prepared and there to be eaten. A libary sits off the main chamber, dark in comparison with the light of the freehold proper and richly appointed, books on subjects ranging far and wide lining the walls, a locked door leading to a more privately held store of books. A salle is arranged down a narrow hall, smaller than the main chamber but circular as well, various penants and shields adorning the walls along with racks of practice weapons, dummies showing age and abuse stacked to a side, awaiting those who wish to practice their more martial skills.
The grounds include gardens that are slowly being brought back to life after turning overgrown, laid out with colorful tropical flowers and populated with striking birds and chimera should one spare the time to look for them. Benches settle near fountains and in the shade of tree boughs, offering kithain an alternative to the confines of indoors. There are less well used practice grounds for martial training outdoors as well, showing the results of too many years in direct sunlight, all the accoutrements for the most part left stored indoors to be brought out as necessary.
Paths array out from the freehold's gates, some of them dead ends, others blocked, and only the one leading to the beach left cleared, guards usually able to be seen taking their turns at patrolling the paths and areas.
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