lesmodsalouette | 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.

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.

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[Those just arriving from Château Ambregris will open their eyes to find a not-quite-familiar garden, like having their backyard shifted five paces to the left and several hundred years from its last season. There’s a chill in the air, even colder than the castle you just left where the drafts were beginning to bite, where the nights were getting longer – a light snowfall has blanketed you while you were lying here.

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.]

[Adrenaline, anger, and terror filled Siobhan all at once as her side is pierced with a knife, coughing and still trying to fight the person who's gone from struggling with her to a panicked attempt to plug the wound. Fuck you, this is your fault, Shiv thought, you pathetic little bitch. Why do you get everything? Why do you get to have power you don't fucking deserve?

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.

[ it's hard to miss the shouting. he wasn't in the vicinity, but the sound of that voice is loud enough to grab his attention. he pads over quickly, but he still might not make it there before some of the others.

he doesn't catch all of what she's saying, only sees a body, blonde hair, and a highly irate person.

from what he's hearing, guess that makes this the victim? ]

Pay for what?

Oh, great, you again. Lot fresher-looking than a dead guy should look, at least.

[She folds her arms in annoyance.]

Killing me, obviously. Anybody else show up--you know what, I don't care right now. Fuck them both. Who's running things on this side of the time loop? Still Ish, or do I get to meet his mommy?

Who did it?

[Tia strides over, seemingly unaffected by the cold despite the skin bared by her regular attire. She doesn't offer a hand, because it isn't really the way of her kind, and Shiv's probably got enough indignation to fuel herself.]

[Oh, Tia. Shiv tries not to look too affected by seeing her alive again, but her ability to mask her emotions isn't that great right now. It's a relief to see her in one piece, despite it all, but then there's the question.]

Fucking Ayaka. [A little scoff escapes.] Well, technically that's not right. Pathetic bitch wouldn't even finish me off herself. She got Richard to do it. He probably got off on it, too, getting to butcher a woman to fulfill his bullshit white knight complex.

[She frowns. She didn't know Richard, but the same can be said for Ayaka in the end. In a way, it wasn't that long before Tia was removed from the playing field. Either way, Shiv has all the right to be angry.]

Did she tell you why?

[Shiv breathes through her nose. Well, it's a bit obvious why, given Shiv was trying to kill Ayaka. If she's such a good person, though, Ayaka should have tried harder to not kill her.]

No. We were fighting in the hedge maze, so not a lot of time to have a conversation about our motives. Then she stabbed me in the lung, so. Couldn't chat about it even if I wanted to.

Week 2: Sunday (Post-Execution)

cw abuse implications, familial death, panic attack, strong language

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