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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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You've only seen her, really, as a dead person. A corpse. You know Andrew was upset to lose her though, and that made you want to try harder.
You wish you'd tried harder for Shiv, too. Maybe you wouldn't be here right now.)
Siffrin shifts on their feet, trying how best to describe it, before speaking in that soft-spoken way they do. ]
They said that we wouldn't be dead. Or... that we'd still be around, because it wouldn't make sense to throw away emotions. That's what The Witch is after. Our feelings. So Chara thought that there had to be someplace else they'd bring us away to, once we'd died.
[ A nod to their surroundings. ]
Like an hourglass. Once this side fills up, we'd flip back over. Or we'd start here instead. Back and forth. Though, if there's any memory messing around going on, that's probably when it happens. Instead of at the end of a week.
[ .................. ]
Do... you know? About the resets.
[ (She died, so... m... maybe not...) ]
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[If that's what he means by resets. As for Chara's theory . . . ]
Even the dead can feel. But trapping souls for his gain isn't too far off from what Yamanbagiri was saying.
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...
More souls on this side? Nevermind, they're not on the same page. ]
Who's Yamanbagiri?
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[ Please. Did death... No, was Tia always like this? Siffrin doesn't know. Where's Andrew. Or Hwylryn. ]
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That just means you've never encountered a weapon infused with an essence.
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[ (You decide just to go along with it for now.
Maybe it'll clear itself up.) ]
A talking sword, and... other souls? Were they already here?
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[ This is
definitely normal and Siffrin really does not like ghosts but this is fine, probably, they aren't ghosts of him. ]
I wish I could let Chara know. They'd have a field day with this. They're a really smart kid, and...
[ ... ]
They've been in a position like this before, kind of.
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Haven't you, too? You were talking about resets at the carnival.
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...
(You
hope no one was listening to closely to the more embarrassing parts of that!!!!!!)
Siffrin is staring Directly into the snow. ]
Yeah, the... time loop thing isn't new to me. But the rest is. Chara, um. Was a spirit who couldn't directly interact with others. But they managed to break their loop, so I bet they'd have a lot of ideas about this place.
[ Right or wrong, but ideas!!! They might also find the talking sword cool. ]
So, um. You can see that? Or we now, I guess. The carnival.
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We can. Our view of the living is limited, though . . .
[She frowns.]
. . . while it's unstable here.
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[ But. At least they'll be able to see the others still. Even if it's just one-sided.
...
That's really no different than normal, in a way. ]
I don't know if I'm glad or not. I'm happy that I'll be able to see them, but at the same time...
[ (You want to talk to them. Touch them. Make them laugh, and...) ]
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[This will change in the near future, but the fact will remain that they're stuck, and she wants out. They all should be out—even the unhinged one who longs for lamentations.]
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Um. I can stand being here a little longer. I embarrassed myself before I died, so I'm not in a hurry. I'll work hard for you, though. Andrew misses you.
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Before she can comment on the embarrassment, she blinks at the last of their words.]
Andrew?
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[ Sorry Andy. ]
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[Her face twists, ponderous.]
I wasn't expecting it. That's all.
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[ Which had been the only reason Siffrin had worked so hard, since Andrew had become someone they were fond of very quickly. ]
I understand her, though. [ One of the things they share. ] Kindness can't be forgotten.
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Most wouldn't associate that word with me.
[Tia sighs.]
She shouldn't be getting too excited in her state.
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[ (...
You hope she was okay after your death.) ]
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If you're here, who's looking after her now?
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[ At least. Siffrin hopes so. The people he asked were earnest enough, dutiful enough, wanted to help somehow. To make up for how things ended up. ]
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