[Seasonal Event] Table for one, please

Was Rory's house always so dusty? Suddenly it feels like nothing has lived here in ages. Indeed, footprints that seem to have no host interrupt the columns of dust. They creep. The chair moves. A shadow across the window and yet nothing which seems to have made it. Are they simply too fast? Or do they not possess bodies? It's so hard to know... The rocking stops. The air by Wessex' shoulder grows cold, the breath she does not need to breathe suddenly fogs from her lips. R A word in the dust. Nearly illegible. E Will you let it continue? LONGNIGHT