ℬ𝑒𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓁𝓊𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒 ℳ𝑜𝒹𝓈 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lesmodsalouette) wrote2025-03-16 03:54 am
lesmodsalouette) wrote2025-03-16 03:54 am
Graveyard
Graveyard
The garden is still sprawling and green – despite having entirely lost all its riotous flowers and colors, along with any sign of wildlife or birdsong – though one thing stands out more than anything else: from Monday to Thursday, you can’t see the castle anymore. All that remains where it once stood (or perhaps, usually stands) is an incongruously large tree that towers over everything else and somehow looks larger and more imposing than the castle ever did. The tree’s branches are bare, without any hint of life nor leaf – however, on the weekends (that is to say, Friday through Sunday) a faint projection of the castle appears around it, cradling the only things that the denizens of this alternate garden can see in detail from the other side: the flurry of activity around the investigation, the circus-like dimension that holds the trial, and the mirrors and the grassy dimension that display the execution.
For those curious what the land of the living are up to, a mirage-like and upside-down reflection of the castle garden in its original arrangement can be spotted occasionally overlaying the sky. This strange illusion may sometimes show those in the garden on the other side, flitting in and out of view like stray clouds; but much like the weather, their appearance is mercurial – they cannot be reached and cannot be heard.
Water, Flower, Everywhere
The fountains remain active somehow, though their features seem to have eroded, obscuring the identities of the deities and the wings of the birds, cracking pottery down into nothing but worn shards and handles. At night, only maybe half the lights work (and here they are real candlelight, rather than magical), plunging most of the garden into crepuscular darkness. The trellis walkway looks quite overgrown (mysteriously, bamboo is taking over), entirely covering some statues and other features along its length, and it’s no longer walkable – a miniature canal runs the whole length underneath the arches, feeding into other new waterways around the garden that cut off footpaths seemingly at random. There are small footbridges here and there, but the lack of logic to the whole arrangement makes falling into one of the streams or canals a real hazard.
The waterways do all manage to converge at the pond by the pavilion – neither of which are all that soothing or classical anymore. The pond is only half-full, and entirely lacks water lilies or any dragonflies; its banks sit jagged above the dark waters, and perhaps that’s why the pavilion, too, is half collapsed down into it all. Gone are the curtains and ivies; only dead curling vines and half-collapsed columns are left, but there’s still someplace to sit if you put your mind to it.
Most of the flowerbeds sit fallow or overtaken by weeds – there’s signs here and there that someone might have tried to clear them out, but the bulk of the effort seems to have gone to the orchard by the gardener’s cottage. It might be more accurate to say cottages, given that there are a few of them dotted around that area for some reason. None of them are locked, but all of them have only minimal furnishings apart from the original; they’re also all provided with the full complement of gardener’s tools. Next to them, there are new saplings and half-grown flowering trees: some pear and apple, but also some not. There are new shoots in the kitchen orchard that have just barely taken root, the dirt recently turned.
The waterways do all manage to converge at the pond by the pavilion – neither of which are all that soothing or classical anymore. The pond is only half-full, and entirely lacks water lilies or any dragonflies; its banks sit jagged above the dark waters, and perhaps that’s why the pavilion, too, is half collapsed down into it all. Gone are the curtains and ivies; only dead curling vines and half-collapsed columns are left, but there’s still someplace to sit if you put your mind to it.
Most of the flowerbeds sit fallow or overtaken by weeds – there’s signs here and there that someone might have tried to clear them out, but the bulk of the effort seems to have gone to the orchard by the gardener’s cottage. It might be more accurate to say cottages, given that there are a few of them dotted around that area for some reason. None of them are locked, but all of them have only minimal furnishings apart from the original; they’re also all provided with the full complement of gardener’s tools. Next to them, there are new saplings and half-grown flowering trees: some pear and apple, but also some not. There are new shoots in the kitchen orchard that have just barely taken root, the dirt recently turned.
Hedge Maze(?)
The other most eye-catching feature is what once was an ornamental hedge maze: instead of being a tame height here, it has seemingly grown wild and completely unchecked, towering above the rest of the garden almost like its own overgrown mountain. The hedge walls go up and up and up, making it entirely impossible to see the center or even how far it goes despite the fact that sections of the hedges have also died, reduced to the branches underneath, bristling with interlocked thorns.
Part of it had even spilled over into the garden itself, huge gnarled branches spreading out like burnt-blackened fingers all the way to the edge of the pond – wherever the branches touch, even the greenery is withered, and any statues look more ruined than those in the rest of the area. As of the end of Week 3, however, the branches have retracted entirely and the way into the hedge maze has opened even more. However, there is now a storm brewing over what might be the center or the general area of it. Getting close to the hedge maze or any of the hedge(?) branches is... unpleasant, though it doesn’t usually go beyond a buzz of wrongness and a slight headache.
Part of it had even spilled over into the garden itself, huge gnarled branches spreading out like burnt-blackened fingers all the way to the edge of the pond – wherever the branches touch, even the greenery is withered, and any statues look more ruined than those in the rest of the area. As of the end of Week 3, however, the branches have retracted entirely and the way into the hedge maze has opened even more. However, there is now a storm brewing over what might be the center or the general area of it. Getting close to the hedge maze or any of the hedge(?) branches is... unpleasant, though it doesn’t usually go beyond a buzz of wrongness and a slight headache.
Graveyard Organization
Week 3: Tuesday (Graveyard Comms)
Spectator NPCs will have 2 words as a group, so please agree upon them and have someone submit on the group's behalf.
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Week 3: Graveyard Task Submission
The deadline is Sunday 3 AM EST/12 AM PST.
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(frozen comment) Coming Soon!
Week 2: Monday
The rain is light, almost a mist – it’s overcast, but not gloomy, with a glow behind the cloud cover – half-hiding the garden you’ve woken up in. Some of the statues and the layout seem familiar, but they don’t quite look right, apart from appearing to have aged several hundred years in the meantime. There are also no flowers. Everything is hushed under the weather.
You feel a strange tug inside, like a prickle at the edge of your thoughts, occasionally intrusive. Somewhere in the low light and mist, you can spot a familiar gardener's cottage. And as you move around, you may spot a strange glint and a flash of incongruous orange deep in some (regular) garden bushes. The world is no longer your oyster, but this new(?) garden is.]
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a prickle, nagging at the edges of his consciousness. after that? an itch. nowhere physical, but instead just out of reach—like an itch that can't quite be scratched.
it's really annoying.
his lips slant in a disgruntled line as he hops up and onto his feet, thoughts of the trial and execution suspended so he can fully take in his surroundings and meander about. what's this about a flash of incongruous orange in the garden bushes, now? is this something he can find or interact with?! ]
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Week 2: Wednesday (Graveyard Task)
It's hard for Yamanbagiri to keep an eye on everything, whether human or otherwise, but he can hear the monsoon happening outside just fine. It's apparently rather pressing, so at some point when the new arrivals are gathered he raps his sheath against the nearest surface to get everyone's attention (and maybe the shades, too).]
... This is no ordinary rain. The weather here depends on the stability of the timeflow and the space... I thought that having more spirits here would help stabilize everything, but we may need something more.
I currently can't deal with the garden, so could you save it from the rain in my place? There should be tarps in some of the cottages that you can use to stave off the rain, and the younger trees are potted. They can be brought indoors. We just need to make sure most of the garden survives. It's also connected to the spiritual stability here.
[A pause.]
I'm not sure how much energy those of you who don't have spiritual bodies can lend, but I'd be grateful if you could help out, too.
[OOC: Welcome to your first graveyard task! Mission: Save The Garden From Being Flooded Out is now afoot! To pass this task, all you need to do is thread on the given task by Sunday. No comment requirements or anything, just have fun trying to stay dry. ☆ You can also ask Yamanbagiri if you think you might need anything else to help with gardening, etc.
Spectator NPCs will find that they can help the plants stay alive by talking or singing to them (or yelling at them, if you really want), or having a conversation about them! Feel free to mingle.]
QUESTIONS/REQUESTS
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Week 2: Thursday
That internal itch that has been bothering you settles a bit, light as feather, like finding a missing limb. It's now a bit sore, but more in the way an unused muscle is sore. Could be worse.
Chu Wenshan will have a vision of a flash of purple.
Tiamat, on the other hand, will glimpse a curling, blood-fresh red for just a moment.
That's all! Nothing else to see here.]
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What was that?]
Week 2: Sunday (Mini-Event)
[Yamanbagiri might be stating the obvious here, considering that quite a lot has changed – between the murder and trial, more of their number might be arriving soon; they’ve spent the week holed up under the rain surrounded by plants like some kind of indoor jungle; and the sun has only just come out, peeking between the clouds.
It does mean that it’s easier to move around, though the weather conditions still look uncertain, clouds lingering in the sky. It might not be time yet to divest themselves of their green and growing roommates.
Nevertheless, he gestures (inasmuch as a sword can use itself to gesture, as usual) for those physically present to move outside.]
It’s the hedge maze. We might have done enough for the spiritual energy here to stabilize it, too.
It’s... [a brief hesitation] It might be good for you to go and see.
[He’s apparently perfectly happy to settle here for the time being, so maybe the true graveyard experience is running errands for semi-animate objects.
More importantly: moving further into the freshly-washed garden, wrapped in the smell of petrichor, will allow you to see that the hedge’s ominous, thorny branches that were stretched into and strangling the garden and the pond have seemingly disappeared. Moving even closer reveals they’re still there, just much reduced and shrunk; and what’s more, a way into the hedge maze is now open.
Will you explore the thorny depths?]
[OOC: ICly this takes place before the execution!]
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thankfully biri or whatever his nickname was doesn't have to worry about becoming a weedwhacker, because after that moment of heavy quiet contemplation, chu wenshan steps toward the hedges. he may not be the best person to try to brave a maze, but here he is! and failing anything of note to see, he's literally just going to take all the "rights" and find out where that takes him. ]
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Week 2: Sunday (Post-Execution)
Yes, you are here, and you are slightly moist and slightly frosted in equal measure.
There is a familiar gardener’s cottage surrounded by other, somewhat less familiar cottages, and perhaps some familiar faces as well. However, there is no castle to be seen. Are you free of that cursed edifice in death? Well… not quite.]
cw abuse implications, familial death, panic attack, strong language
Only a pathetic wheeze came out, though, and another thought took over: I don't wanna die. Tears stung at her eyes as she thought of her brothers having to bury another family member. She wondered if Tom would cry over her and regret having betrayed her the way he did if he ever saw her body.
This was his fault too. If Tom hadn't turned her dad against her, Shiv never would have buckled to the idea of getting a wish. The only thing Siobhan Roy couldn't rationalize as something she could do herself was getting the last six months she would have had with her father if not for that.
Her vision blurred, and the last she saw was a man with a knife towering over her. She didn't even have time to scream for help that wouldn't come.
Please. Please, not like this. Anything but this. Somebody help me. I wanna go home. I want my dad. Please, please--]
NO--
[Shiv startles awake with a scream, immediately clutching her heart in panic and realizing her heavy breathing isn't accompanied by the gurgle of blood filling her lungs. She sits up, looking around at the bizarre garden scenery.]
What the fuck?
[Chara did mention the idea of the people who died simply going somewhere else. Maybe this is "else". She doesn't feel cold despite the snow she needs to shake out of her hair. Even if she did, that's the last thing on her mind. What she's really thinking of is the people who killed her.]
That cunt and her fucking attack dog...they're gonna fucking pay for this.
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Week 2: Tuesday
That said, they'll also encounter this morning somebody new(?!) shuffling into the warmest room in the gardener's cottage, the downstairs combination living space next to the fireplace. He's wearing a wrinkled suit and pants with holes in them, as well as a dirty and hole-ridden cloak. Well, it's more like a bedsheet, but shhh.
There is, however, a familiar sword at his hip. Despite looking like a hobo, he matches its colors.
The newcomer(?????) clears his throat and gestures for the people and not-so-people to assemble.]
... I should reintroduce myself, I suppose. I'm Yamanbagiri Kunihiro -- a tsukumogami manifested from the duplicate sword forged by Kunihiro of the famous Yamanbagiri. You can think of it as something like... an object that has grown a spirit.
I was cut off from where I came from, and my master, so it was hard to fully manifest until now. I think the spiritual energy of this place, and the fact that more of you are here, played a role in allowing me to return to this form.
So... now that my spiritual energy is back up, I noticed something. You're all a little bit like me. You feel like the swords in my formation, but not exactly the same. That means that like me, you could have a connection to something in the other world. The castle you came from. An object. A belonging. A tool or utensil.
I think that you should all try to reach out to the other side. See if you can connect to yourself there. And make yourself memorable.
[OOC: Hello hello! Welcome to your Graveyard Communication 101! This is basically an IC introduction for your characters to be able to contact the other side, using the objects that I've requested each of you to choose for your character, and that have been dropped on the weekly logs on the living side. Please remember to submit your words before Tuesday, March 25, 8 PM EST/5 PM EST to have them sent to the living!
Graveyard spectators can participate as well, as detailed in the discord.]
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Oh, like Expressions. Siffrin understands now; he nods to Yamanbagiri as a renewed greeting. ]
Ka Bue has something similar. Odile told me about it once... There's Expressions for everything, in everything, so they're all "alive". It's nice to meet you again, Yaman.
[ sorry your name ]
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Week 3: Wednesday (Graveyard Task)
There's no ready-made food to be had, but there are some edible plants amongst the ones they have brought in, now that the cottages are basically makeshift greenhouses. What they do have is drinks, for some reason: hot chocolate, varieties of tea, and unlabeled bottles of wine that vary in age from just-bottled to who-knows-how-old.
This evening, you may happen upon Yamanbagiri on one of the sofas, contemplating one of the potted plant refugees. He's humming quietly, but stops once it's clear more people are around.]
... It's a good thing we didn't take these outside yet.
[He clears his throat.]
I think it went well. Communicating with the other side. We'll try again when there's a chance.
In the meantime... there's another way to strengthen that connection. You can tell a story or a memory about the object you used, or related to it.
The more people are listening, the better. So...
[Looks like he's here to gather people for storytime, though he's being rather lazy about it. Who wants to move that much in winter? Not even swords.]
[OOC: As with the previous task, Mission: Fireside Ghost Stories can be passed as long as you thread on the given task by Sunday and submit it here. No comment requirements, just go for it. Feel free to react to each other's stories or mingle.
Spectator PCs can share stories of their own, even if not related to an object (since they don't have one).]
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they do suppose they have more of the past decade, loose and blurry as the years had been. The small animals they'd carved for children. The figures of their family members. Idle work when their hands had needed it, restless from the lack of knowledge and difference in dialect that had left them fumbling, at times, in understanding.
...
Siffrin doesn't need a blanket, content with just their cloak, but their hat's been set aside politely while indoors. The draw of wanting to be around others is unmistakable.
(Maybe you are lonely. Just a little.) ]
... I like to carve things out of wood. [ Good starting point. ] When I traveled on my own, I'd give small gifts to the children of the people I stayed with. And with my family members... I gave Odile one that looked like her.
[ She'd really liked it, or so she'd said later on. It still warms Siffrin's heart, and they smile softly. ]
When you make something, you... put a piece of yourself into it. So when people look at what you made, they see a little of you too. It's... a mark on the world, a proof of your existence, to someone -- and as long as you remember something, it can't be erased. As long as they remember you, you won't fade away.
[ Missing workshop hours here. What Siffrin wouldn't give to leave some wooden animals around the place. ]
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but you really did get used to being around others. Your family members, those in the castle. The people of Vaugarde and their kindness. Your roommates in the suite.)
It's nice to see them as they go about their day, sparse as the visions are and centralized only in the gardens. When they go in and out of the villa holding their suites, or when they sit at the new pagoda at the pond... Siffrin wishes they could see more, but. It is what it is. This has to be enough.
The snow and chill doesn't seem to bother them as they sit at what's left of the pavilion, idly eating cookies when they don't need to, watching Days Of The Living...
... Nor does it bother them when they take to clearing out the gardens a little more, digging into the snow with their gloves to uproot weeds and having a grand time with their new life as a gardener.
This is literally because they need to have something to do with their hands they are far too restless on their own.
Lastly, of course, is peeking at the hedge maze. Siffrin has experienced the uncomfortable buzz of being close to the unruly hedges and its thorns, but that hasn't stopped them from wandering over every now and then to look at it.
.............
(You wonder if you can cut through the thorns with those big scissors.) ]
MEETING WATCH PARTY
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[ Like right now. Little tugs. Siffrin thinks a seance might not be a bad idea. ]
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trial watchalong
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... I can't believe they're having malanga fritters without me.
[ (Your favorite!!!!!!!! You'd kill for a plate right now!!!!!!!!!!)
And-- a soft huff at The Witch's announcement, too. About no self votes. ]
Just like I warned him. [ ... ] I hope they don't pick the wrong person this time.
[ be kinda awkward if they did it twice in a row ]
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Week 3: Sunday (Mini-Event)
What will the next week bring?
You may have to get through what’s to come first – instead of the hedge maze opening peacefully, withdrawing its branches and parting its thorns as it did before, this time there’s somewhat more fanfare. Stormclouds have gathered deeper in the maze, as though the blizzard they’ve been dealing with all week has retreated into the depths; darkness piles up among the cumulonimbus clouds, lying in wait like a large and rumbling something. Venturing into the hedge maze allows you to go further now than before and the branches in the garden have withdrawn entirely, but while the headache and unpleasantness recedes before you, a sense of foreboding grows. Something at the heart of this maze isn’t pleased with you or anyone or anything else here. It’s still distant rather than oppressive but nevertheless, you feel it all through with a pure instinct.
Yamanbagiri sees everyone off, as though nothing’s happened. He’s busily moving plants out of the cottages and back into the yard, removing tarps and dusting off gardening tools despite the still-chilly air.]
Go take a look. Don’t try to go too far in, but there might be something else for you there. There was, last time.
[He doesn’t look at the maze.]
It’s not the worst place to take a stroll, after everything.
[They’re going to be busy with the newcomers pretty soon.]
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[Shiv talks a big game despite the oppressive air, and walks in. It is creepy though, hard to deny that.]
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Week 3: Sunday (Post-Execution)
The sky is mostly overcast, though there are some brighter cracks where the sun is trying to break through. Moreover -- if you sniff, you might catch the scent of flowers. Here and there amid the wrecked statues and rickety trellises, buds are beginning to open even on the tail-end of whatever winter this may be.
The gardener's cottage here has companion cottages, apparently, and you too have companions -- for better or for worse.]
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Mm, well, that might be the snow.
Her eyelids flutter; she takes in the deterioration and the regrowth. Inhales.]
Damn it.
[Because she's a little tired, and it would have been nice, even if she longs for one more chance to see...
Andrew will be closing her eyes for at least a couple minutes longer, thank you.]
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:) hewwo
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rattles my cup for last-minute CR
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cw gore mentions
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gathering of souls
such experience with this now but frankly, it is not getting any easier, even with... such belief pushing him forward, not wishing to disappoint those with expectations. Maybe it's because of those that it's still hard, actually.
(You think your family members wouldn't recognize you. Or they'd be surprised; they'd always said that as long as you weren't worried, there was nothing to worry about. That as long as you were quiet, the waters were too. That sort of thing.)
Regardless! As the tree comes into bloom, as Siffrin's heard out Sabo's deal, it's important, to him, that... everyone is accounted for, and maybe they cannot stop Shiv from stabbing Hickey every chance she gets, or from Andrew wanting to do the same, but that's going to be future Siffrin's problems and present Siffrin's problems only include trying to make sure he has everything he wants to put out in mind.
Everyone is sought out to sit in the gardener's cottage, mostly for Yamanbagiri's benefit since he's going to be central to this, and they will make sure everyone has their drink and snack of choice before taking the floor with a quiet clearing of their throat.
(Back on stage, with a script of your own making. How novel!) ]
So, um. There's... a few things I wanted to bring up. And talk about. Sabo's wish, the meeting we... all mostly saw and everything from that, um. The memories in the maze. Ours, and...
[ Their gaze turns to Yamanbagiri. ]
Yours.
[ ... Back to everyone at large. ]
We're connected to the other side. By our objects. So we should try and make as much contact with them, too. That's another point. Um. And...
[ ... ]
And... I want to go back. [ Softly. ] I have to. For my family members. So we should... figure out, if maybe... we can contact The Witch, catch his eye, and... work out a deal, too. For all of us.
[ They know that not everyone feels the same. Especially with empty hands. But Siffrin needs to go back, and that's fact. They're sure that Yamanbagiri wants to too, and the reflections... Maybe. As well. Just in case, for all of them. ]
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Some of the last things that I spoke to Ish about was that he would try to bring...us back if my wish for him worked the way I hoped it would.
[ which i, naru, have no idea when this meeting is taking place, so if this is before ish makes his announcement (though i guess they wouldn't be able to hear it..? or maybe. STARES IN TIMELINES.) then they can keep guessing. or if this is after then maybe there's less guessing. regardless, the point that siffrin is making here is what should be focused on anyway. ]
Regardless, I'm sure that getting his attention to know where to look for us—if he's able to do something about it—would be a great place to start.
[ hmmm. ]
Should we coordinate a sort of game plan so that we're all on the same page as to what we want to communicate when we're given an opportunity?
[ but sabo doesn't want to speak for everyone or tell them what to do. ]
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hey chat it's your friendly(??) neighborhood sword spirit, AMA
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Week 4: Wednesday - Graveyard Endgame P1
They’re cherry blossoms, so brilliantly colorful and ethereal that they look like little ghosts dancing on the wind themselves, softly blanketing both the wild and tended parts of the aged garden like a much gentler snow cover.
Less gentle by magnitudes is what’s happening at the hedge maze: the storm is growing ever bigger, lightning occasionally lashing down into the hedge maze and outside of it – though not far enough to cause significant damage – and the entire maze has turned black. The leaves are dead but not falling; instead they look somewhat twisted, distorted as though burnt. There are unnaturally large branches and thorns bulging out of them, especially at the periphery of the maze like grasping fingers that want to re-enter the garden… but something is stopping them.
They stop just before the blanket of cherry blossoms begins, like they’ve hit some kind of invisible wall.
It seems like whatever is happening inside the hedge maze is progressing, but at an impasse for now. You probably have a little time, still, to consider your options and scare up new ones.]
ISH & THE ITEM CONFERENCE
[OOC: For this first bit, the characters will be speaking to Ish as their items on the other side for negotiations.]
NEW ARRIVALS: WEDNESDAY MASSACRE EDITION
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SWORD BRIEFING
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Week 4: Thursday - Graveyard Endgame P2
KRACKABOOM
out of the sky, where the clouds have massed low and menacing and almost as imposing as the hedge maze itself – up in the firmament and in reverse, a mockery of the sky garden where they can watch the other side. The storm roils like a living thing, turning and turning and slowly stretching itself out feline-like over that end of the garden with the nose-stinging scents of ozone and impending rain.
And where that bolt of lightning struck – violent and bright enough to temporarily blind anyone who might have looked – the hedge maze has been split in two a fair ways, sizzling darkly, what looks like a muddy mist or miasma rising off the wrecked inky foliage and broken branches where several sections of wall have simply been obliterated. Perhaps it was more than lightning that laid the maze open like a horrible black rose, peeling back its layers to expose a rotting center, but now it’s quiet for a spell. You now have an easier way into the maze, but at what cost?
If they’re intrepid enough to take the trek in, they’ll find that at the location where they last found the basins with information and memories, the wall that was blocking them has been split as well. Venturing through that, and deeper, will invite back that sensation of headache and unpleasant buzzing that has been milder in the maze lately – but it’s back full force now. Still, they find that they can venture on.
Beneath the rain that starts, and the still-occasional threat of lightning, there are now rustles amid the hedges for those with sharp ears or sharper senses.
They aren’t alone in here.]
[OOC: Welcome to your graveyard endgame, Part 2! This will be a combat-related portion -- characters will be engaging with enemies within the hedge maze, whether physically or otherwise. Please have your character explore either solo or in groups of 2 at most, to make it easier for threading.
Characters who do not want to enter the maze can also participate to sweep any enemies that make it out of the maze and into the gardens.
Spectator characters can explore as well, though they will only be able to help in certain instances.
Also, here is a Tsukumogami Guide for easy reference, as the abilities will be relevant for character combat.]
Tia and Sabo ❄️🔥
Her eyes flit to Sabo, a muted question—has he noticed, too?]
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Chu Wenshan and Yoonhee ⛰️🐍
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andy and the hickster
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siffrin & yoru
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Week 4: Friday - Graveyard Endgame FINALE
The crash of thunder and the general din of the weather makes it difficult to communicate or know where their allies are -- so what happens eventually is that Yamanbagiri comes dropping down from the top of the hedge maze wherever each group is, landing lightly and nodding at them as though he didn't just drop out of an extremely-not-clear sky. His cloak swirls around him, wet with blood and rain and mud, but he's apparently elected not to take it off, regardless. His sword flashes as he holds it at the ready.]
... I've found the gate. I think we've cleared out enough of the maze, so there should be time for us to close it if we hurry. Before anything worse comes through. Follow me.
[And before anyone can question him on what worse actually means, he's already moving -- perhaps too quickly for the conditions and suddenness of the message, but they have more people to gather so they can bring a proper and quite literal close to this thing.
Once those who have been patrolling the maze have gathered, they move on. Deeper and deeper, twisting and winding in single-or-double file on the path; the farther they go the more the rain drums down, though it seems as though the violence of the storm itself is calming, like moving into the eye of the maelstrom. As things quiet down without, however, other troubles start within: the headache and buzzing ramp up again, not quite to the point that no one can walk, but Tiamat and Sabo might recognize this particular unwelcome escalation.
And in fact, it's easy to tell when they get to the center of the maze, because not only is there a large, freestanding double-gate with criss-crossing bars pouring black miasma and that unpleasant feeling out of every opening, but arrayed in front of the open doors of that gate are a number of warriors who look to be at least semi-black mist as well, glimpses of armor and bone flashing in the lightning and the reddened glow of their eyes. None of them are armed, but their sheer numbers and the bizarre mental oppression of their existence are menace enough.
Beside them, Yamanbagiri mutters, half to himself:]
Historical Revisionists...!
No. They're not right.
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She looks up at the huge group of tangled, altered figures, her mouth slightly open as she takes in the sight.]
It's like we're waging war against time itself...and those twisted by it.
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final carnival
Siffrin is still so exhausted. On top of all else that happened the past-- however long, there's another one of these showing in the brilliantly, blinding petals of the tree.
(It's very pretty, at least. A shade Mira likes. You decide you like it too.)
At least it's easier to sit outside and see what's going on now. Right everyone? Surely there's no one we know and love that's been killed! Even though that hope slips away every week there's one of these blinding things!
Well, they're better than they were before, with the visions. ]
1/4
They aren't anymore, as their eye flicks across the faces miling about in the damnable carnival they haven't been invited to since their death and they don't see they don't see
until
they do, laying so so still
hurt
so so badly where the corpses usually sit
G'raha Tia. ]
2/4
3/4
4/4 a normal one in gy
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normal day in the graveyard (cw suicidal and general death ideation and implied spousal abuse/sa)
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reveal
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ok but chara
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Week 4: Saturday (Post-Trial)
Everything is blooming, especially the giant cherry tree over yonder where the castle should be. The sweet fragrance of flower and fruit hits you in the face a lot more gently than your last night in the castle.
Anyway, there's a familiar cottage and quite a familiar crowd. You may not be able to contemplate your eternal rest in peace for very long.]
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[And there is nothing in his eyes. He's somewhere far, far away. It's like a switch has been flipped, and it's sheer instinct, like an animal, a machine, that makes him stand up stiffly and murmur, monotone, under his breath.]
I have failed. I have been accosted by the enemy. I must return. I must return. Returnreturnreturn. Rerererere.
[Like a damaged audio log, the words spilling out of his mouth are disjointed, with no distinct pattern. There's no recognition in his eyes at anyone who approaches. He simply stands in place, staring at nothing. There's no definite hostility, but maybe there is the sense to...tread lightly. A heaviness in the air.]
[Talk to....him?]
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Week 4: Living Endgame
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[The red-haired lady. She's pretty. But something feels...off.]
Where is Ish?
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