To the tips of the castle lined with gothic scripture, to the lace like patterns tossed evenly along almost every edge of the exuberant sculpture, the castle of the unseelie fae seems to appear that of a gothic nightmare, or for some a fantasy land of the distraught. With the darkness they love to weave, their halls roam lazily around with tattered crème with stripes of gloss against un-glossed, added with walls fabricated in black iron décor, matched with the cold black tile underfoot. It looks too mythical for words. It’s known commonly that their king sleeps atop of the castle in the tallest tower, while his “family” sleeps in the many alcoves hidden among the walls of the fantasy nightmare. The many portraits hanging of previous royalty hang strewn about along the walls of the grand hall. The grace adorned so beautifully that it burn.