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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.
no subject
And wow, truly courtesy has come to the graveyard. Yamanbagiri tilts slightly, as though curious or inquiring.]
A Favor Tree?
no subject
The big tree.
[ A point!
(You aren't going to question a sword seeing something if it can talk. And tilt. This is fine.) ]
They're the biggest ones in the area, and people make wishes on them. I guess it's probably different, but... that's what it reminds me of. What happened to the castle?
no subject
And although the sword doesn't have visible eyes, it shifts slightly once more.]
Oh. I'm not sure the tree is dead, but I've also never tried making a wish on it. [matter-of-factly] This place is connected to the castle, but the connection isn't always very good. Sometimes the castle appears, and sometimes it doesn't.
no subject
Okay. It'd be hard to make a wish on it right now anyway, since there's no leaves.
[ Which are....... apparently necessary. ]
We can try when spring comes. It started to get pretty wintry over on the other side, so... maybe this'll shift, too?
no subject
[I don't know how to convey the kotonoha wordplay in English so it just ends up sounding silly. The sword sounds somewhat serious about it, though.
Big trees are important in some way anywhere.]
I think... it's the other way around. We went from spring, to spring rain, to winter. After you all did.
It's been a little hectic.
no subject
Yamanabagiri is his favorite person in this whole cemetery right now Siffrin's face lights up for the first time (publically) in the past few days.
(Who'd have thought you needed to die to find a fellow wordplay enthusiast!!!!!!!!) ]
So next might be fall then.
[ All the pretty shades... colors, that Siffrin won't get to see with
with...
... Deflating a bit. It would've been so nice, sitting together outside, enjoying the crisp air, making the leaves crinklecrinkle crunch... even if so much wouldn't have been said, even if Siffrin would only be able to see from the corner of their eye...
(Your chest hurts. You won't forgive them.) ]
... If it starts to sprout leaves, I'll give it a shot. Who knows. Maybe something'll happen.
no subject
Fall or summer. [...] Fall would be better.
[How can you run a garden without knowing the seasons? You don't. Look at this garden, though it's not for lack of trying.
The sword moves a bit closer, in a measured hop or two. All it does is stand on its tip next to Siffrin, colorful strap swaying in the silence.]
... The plants here don't grow normally. Sometimes they'll skip growth cycles, or die overnight, or revive two days later.
Like everything else here, it's unstable. But there's time to wait.