It was shaking silently, perching on the tall vernecian stand. It was a weird time. All the plants in the house went withered in that month, and her grandparents, her parents barely talk in front of her. They moved around silently with a sort of humble piety that came out of sorrow. It was the type of mood after losing a battle, like mourning; but unlike mourning, it was as if the spirit is still in the house and they were bearing the wound.