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.
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
it clicks, suddenly, what this means. ]
3/4
The grief dissipates the more he thinks about it,
(you'll be with him forever,)
and replaces it with a burning warmth of gratitude,
(they don't know how happy they've made you, whoever did this,)
and it's hard, so hard, to stop laughing, there's a tightness in their throat, a hard lump as they battle between the horror, anger, adoration, of what this all means.
(you won't have to see him die. he can wait forever for you. that friend of his will age, waste away, and you'll still be there, you'll still have raha, he'll still be yours forever, and ever, and ever.
even after your family members die. even after the world begins to weaken and rot. he'll be there, you'll have someplace and someone to belong to. forever.
you're so happy.) ]
4/4 a normal one in gy
But they don't, and even their hyena-level laughter settles to a burst, bubbling giggles, cheeks flushed in exertion and happiness as they stare at the tree.
(Raha, oh Raha, he's handsome even in death, you'll make whoever hurt him feel the same pain he did before he passed, that's for certain, but maybe you'll kill them as a mercy.
As a thank you, for ensuring that Raha'll keep his promise, that Raha'll always be at your side. Oh, Raha.) ]
no subject
Hickey is equipped to deal with many, many things, and this is not one of them.
His tongue pushes against the inside of his cheek as he watches Siffrin's meltdown, trying to make sense of this reaction. He's finally cracked, but the specific flavor of crack is to be determined.
But then he's distracted by the carnival itself. Two bodies, one killer... For one short moment, his mouth twists into an expression that might be worry—but he quickly straightens himself again. ]
Siffrin.
[ Hickey settles himself in the dirt next to his former roommate, though his attention is still locked on the tree's projection. ]
We've already ended this. What happens with the living is of no consequence. G'raha and Sariel will return with the rest of us.
[ Comforting? Debatable, but he's not here to soothe emotions, just to state facts. ]
no subject
[ (That's why! You're so happy!) ]
But our deal includes them, Hickey. That means Raha'll live forever too!
[ (And he'll always be yours!) ]
no subject
It does, yes.
[ ... ]
As well as their killer, should the others solve the mystery in time.
[ yeah ish just said that's not happening but shut up?? maybe this is happening before that???? ]
no subject
I hope they do. At the very least, I'd like to thank them.
[ And hurt them. Hurt them so, so badly.
(You can think of a thousand ways to mimic the injuries scattered across Raha's body. It'll be fun, finding out the others.) ]
no subject
I sincerely doubt that.
[ Don't bullshit a bullshitter, buddy. ]
You're above petty revenge, aren't you?
no subject
[ Plainly. ]
I stabbed Ayaka since no one wanted to hurt her for what she did to me. I'll do worse to whoever hurt my Raha.
no subject
His eyes turn back to the carnival. ]
You won't.
[ There's a finality in his tone. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
[The fire poker definitely got left behind after it did its job, but the knife... is still in her lap.]
no subject
I'm just happy, that's all. Isn't it great? We won't have to worry about Raha -- or Sariel, but I think angels can't die -- fading away.
no subject
How can you see someone dragged into this without knowing the consequences, rejoice in it and call it love?
[At least Andrew agreed to it. How badly she wants to ask for the same thing. How badly she wants forever with Herta. How badly she wants to force it on her for her own good. If they had more than a mortal lifetime together, maybe that love she asked her to give would become real in time.
... How even she can't be that selfish, that immature.]
no subject
All because--) ]
It's love if I call it love. Raha'll be happy too, I'm sure.
[ He has to be. He has to be, because then they can have so many adventures together, and see the world change firsthand... ]
He didn't choose to die. [ (you asked him not to; you'll have to scold him for that.) ] And he can't choose this, but... I don't think he'll see it badly.
[ (you're going to hate seeing your family members die.
but if you're all splitting anyways, in the end, then isn't it fine? you won't be seeing them. you won't ever forget them, even if they forget you. then, you can remember them forever too. they won't ever die for real.) ]
Wouldn't you be happy, if it was Herta?
cw abuse
So, yes, she thinks, but the price -]
How could I!? How could I...? It felt like I was being hit myself every time she was beaten! When I couldn't stop it from happening!
How could I trade any amount of happiness for even an ounce of pain if I might have been able to stop it? [No, instead she would have done anything to stop it...] Especially something like that?!
[Have they looked at him? Have they looked closely and imagine what it felt like? Can they feel the stinging heat of those injuries on their own body? Because that was her as recently as the week before, falling to her knees in front of all those pictures in the photography studio, every possibility an open bleeding reminder that she could not stop it.]
no subject
Away from her, from her words, and
maybe the implication is what's getting to him, because it's something that burns under his skin. ]
If I could have stopped it, I would.
[ Hissed, frustrated and hurt. ]
I hate to see him hurt. I hate it so much, I'll do the same to whoever did it to him in the first place. They'll feel his pain, his suffering, and ten times over by my hand -- but can't I be happy? Just a little? That I won't have to stand aside and watch him waste away while I keep living?
[ It's just a small, simple happiness. That G'raha will always be living, will always be within grasp.
(You don't
want to think of him pushing you away, disgusted and disturbed.)
Though at least Andrew's words are reasonable, at least, Siffrin's manic episode seems at its end. ]
(no subject)
no subject
yoru catches siffrin's face and turns them away from the tree. he cradles them, feeling the apples of their cheeks under his hands as they giggle and giggle. and though they're in his hands, he feels as though they're lost, drowned in their own feelings. whatever is spilling out of them, he doesn't know if g'raha would recognize that.
but yoru does.
he presses his forehead to theirs and waits. will they see him? ]
Hey.
no subject
The forehead against theirs is pleasant. The eye closes, (you breathe in, and out, just like before,) and then opens again, curious now.
(you're still so happy, but yoru's calling.) ]
Hi.
no subject
but he can look at siffrin with dark love because that will always be true. his water lily. ]
When he comes, let him speak first. Let him see the Siffrin who's always been with him, before you show him the rest.
no subject
Siffrin exhales, closes their eye again. Rests further against Yoru. ]
He said... that he wants to know all of me, as much as he's able, because I'm like a puzzle. He wants to know every piece, jagged and not, even if it may hurt -- because he wants to see the whole picture that makes up me, not just... what I want him to see.
[ (But would he like this? This, this disgusting display now?
You know it's wrong. You shouldn't be so gleeful. But what else can you feel? So much has happened, so much to remind you of what you do and don't have, so easily forgotten... the relief you have now, that at least there's something to really look forward to...
You know you're broken and disturbed. Maybe you wouldn't have been, if it hadn't been for all those loops. Or maybe you've always been like this. Who can say.) ]
But... okay. I will. Um, since you think it's better that way.
no subject
Let him know, but by your own choice, Siffrin. This... right now... was forced out of you by someone else.
[ he lowers his voice, some of the hollowed tiredness slipping through. ]
Pick when and where and how. For yourself... and for him.
no subject
It was, wasn't it?
Siffrin lifts their hands to place against Yoru's slightly larger ones, cupping right back. ]
... You're good at calming me.
[ And... they don't want to be one of the reasons for that tiredness, either. Even if they aren't, they don't want to be. ]
I don't think he'd like it. [ (You know your family members wouldn't. Raha, who's so good, wouldn't either.) ] But, I'm... tired of being left behind.
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
He'll be back with a hot cup of tea, setting it down next to them quietly.
Gotta keep hydrated after the crashing out and the maniacal laughing.]
no subject
... Siffrin nods a little thanks to Yamanbagiri, sipping at it gently.
(It tastes like kindness, most of all. Warmth and calmness.) ]