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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.
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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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That aside, Chu Wenshan takes all the rights! He's allowed! And he comes back out of the maze--
Or so you'd think, but somehow, he's getting turned around to the point where he seems to be heading deeper regardless. The hedge maze looms, the hedge maze giveth. It's impossible to see exactly where he's going, but at least on the path there, there's not too much of that unpleasant buzz that the hedge maze tends to radiate. And somehow, too, the waterways at the foot of the walls are always with him, leading onward.
Eventually, he comes to one of those basin fountains. It is not running.]
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either way... if it works, it works. he strolls along, pace unperturbed despite the perturbing developments (and it's a plus that the buzz is gone) until he comes across the basin.
the fountain—can he recognize it as the one at the heart of the maze? ]
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There's a few dead leaves in it. A sprig of thorn. Nary a drop of water to be found.
Strange, isn't it, considering how much rain they've had over the past week? It should be full. It should be full to overflowing.
Perhaps something is blocked in there?]
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sometimes, you just need to hit something first to see if that fixes it. so he gives the top of it (or some kind of flat part of it) a light pound with his fist first. ]
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There's.... a light burbling sound in response. Something is happening........]
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Hope CWS has good reflexes, because this fountain just turned into some kind of geyser out of nowhere.
Maybe it's making up for the rain?]
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...but he doesn't actually move out of the way?! he's too busy thinking: wow, it worked. i can't wait to tell bijili.
maybe this is punishment, somehow, for continuing to butcher his name. ]
(not here)
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"So, tell me a fun fact about you!"
[And then there's a jumble of noise, as though the reply were being played on max speed.
Moments later -- both in the small spray left and in the basin, if Chu Wenshan cares to approach it -- a number of images float into being. They're blurry, disturbed by the fountain's own existence, but:]
"Yikes, you wake up to the smell of smoke and fire. What do you do?"
[His own face is a little clearer, where he's sitting on a plush chair, perhaps speaking to someone. Perhaps just talking to himself.
He watches himself talk about putting out the fire, for the sake of a certain Mr. Ou's hair.
The scene plays a few times on repeat, blurring and stuttering a few times. Sometimes there's someone else in the chair, their reply garbled. Sometimes it's just him again. And again. And again.]
2/2 EVENT END
Instead, someone in a white cloak wields a sword with a distinct orange strap, standing together with a number of others in colorful clothing and armor all wielding swords. You get the feeling that they're all together. They look wrong where they are, because they seem to have been dropped smack into the middle of a grand celebration.
Banners, dancing, and singing. It's loud and oddly clear:]
♪ "Ain't it just fine for the two of you to starve?
Ain't it just fine for the two of you to go to the Sanzu river?
Ain't it just fine to cross it swimming?
Amazing!
Ain't it just fine? Ain't it just fine? Ain't it just fine?
Ain't it just fine? Ain't it just fine? Ain't it just fine?" ♫
[And around and around they go in an endless festive loop, much like Chu Wenshan himself had done earlier, but much louder. As though this celebration could go on for days or weeks, whatever it is for. The armed figures wander around like tourists in the midst of a tourist trap--
And suddenly
everything
stops.
There's a long moment of silence.]
“Time has… stopped!”
[Everything goes dark, and is washed away in the water.]
[OOC: Annnd scene! That's all for this one, folks. Feel free to still reply for individual responses but that's it for the big stuff.]
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he bristles, jolting closer—making him right on time for what comes next. the figures, the dancing, the strange song stick out, though he doesn't know what it all means.
he waits for a while to see if any images come back. presuming they don't, he'll pad slowly back to where
bilibilibijili is. ]no subject
[ Hopefully the ghostly voice speaking up out of nowhere isn't too startling. (Or, you know, nowhere-ish. One might be able to catch a vague image of the speaker in the nearest reflective surface.) ]
A form of celebration popular in Japan during the transition between the Edo and Meiji periods (1867-1868). These festivals were characterized by spontaneity and anarchic merrymaking, during which social customs and common ideas of propriety were ignored. They are understood to have constituted a form of protest or complaint toward the declining government of the time.
[ thanks, Nanopedia ]
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That said, Yamanbagiri stays where he is, leaned up against the cottage somewhere. Nanopedia might have displayed in a window or perhaps a convenient gardening implement, but it's not as though he can turn to see.
Both of them could only hear things from the hedge maze, which was perhaps a good thing.]
... In this case, I'm not sure they were complaining about the government. It was still strong at the time, in that alternate history.
[To Chu Wenshan, ostensibly:]
How was the maze?
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[ bum dum tishhhhh ]
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You were there.
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That’s what it sounds like.
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[Something dry in it.]
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Then you should know. Is that vision relevant at all?
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[The argument lacks conviction, but the sword is otherwise expressionless. It's a sword.]
I never answered that interview like you did.
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Then what are you doing here? . . . Are we the only ones who did?
[What about the formless ghosts?]
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