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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
Maybe.
He doesn't recognize you, without your darkless clothing?) ]
Didja ever make another ant?
[ That sort of line worked last time, as a knife. ]
no subject
[Ants. Ants. Lines of ants. A warm hand on his. A knife. His friend. Tea for two. A knife. Blood. Ayaka is screaming again.]
[He clutches his head like it's about to pop open.]
S. Siffsiffsiff. Siff. I. No.
no subject
[ (That's how you handled Mira, too.)
Siffrin doesn't take his hands, but they step a little closer and offer their own. Gentle and patient. ]
In, [ and they go with it, ] one, two, three, and out, [ exhaling as they continue, ] one, two, three.
[ Like that, calm and present. ]
no subject
[Deputy Head. He remembers, him, suddenly. A cunning smile, and hands that did so much.]
[Vanis had...soft hands, too.]
[Siffrin with working hands, guiding him, holding his knife.]
[He reaches forward. One two three in. One two three out. And so, he follows it, as he does well for most orders.]
[Siffrin is his friend, though. A friend doesn't give orders.]
Siffrin.
[And with that name, he starts to cry.]
no subject
So when Sariel begins to cry, they feel more comfortable in squeezing his hands very gently. A hug would be in order, but...
... But they don't know if Sariel would like it, actually. ]
Sariel.
[ Fond, friendly, before they reach up with one pair of joined hands to motion Sariel down just a bit, to wipe his tears. Far too tall, this one. ]
I missed you too. We should have tea, now that we can.
no subject
I. I. Missed you. A lot.
[His tears are wiped away, but they still come. He feels too much. He leans forward, shuddering a little.]
Tea. Nice. That would be nice. [And a beat.] He said he loved me. Wanted. To kill me. Because of love.
no subject
(Just like Mira, you think. A very tall, very pale Mira.) ]
Yeah. We heard his reasoning.
[ A slow, but brief turn of the head to the tree. That, they mean. Before their gaze returns to Sariel and they begin to lead him along to a cottage. It's fine to cry on the way; Siffrin can pick up their cloak on the way, the white waving in the breeze on an errant post they'd set up, then hand it up to Sariel. Dry. ]
I don't understand it either. Because... you don't hurt the people you love. If you're gonna protect them, you don't do it by killing them. You do it by dying.
[ Also... not ideal... but! The point being: they don't die, you do. ]
no subject
[Siffrin leads the way, and he follows. The white is back. He always liked the white, how striking it was. When its handed to him, he doesn't understand at first, but the gesture makes it clear.]
[He dries his tears, ruminating over the words. Maybe it was fine, though. Because it was love. Because it was...love.]
[Hwylyrn told him the Deputy Head tore his wings out because of love too. Wasn't that correct?]
But maybe, if he was that lonely, I...maybe my existence. Caused him. Pain.
[He, with no self worth, who thinks him being thrown away would be a blessing to some. Perhaps. Perhaps...
no subject
[ (You think of how Cain asked you what country you'd hail from, in his world.
You're happy with East and South.) ]
If... someone's pained, because they're lonely, then that's their fault. Not yours. Even if your being there hurt them, it isn't your fault -- it's theirs. [ Hard to say, hard to admit.
(You're in pain too. When it comes to your family members. But it's different, it's different -- you love them so much it hurts they don't love you the same amount.) ] Um. It's kinda hard to explain. But you shouldn't blame yourself.
[ That's all, as they open the door to let Sariel go... duck inside. It's a small, pleasant set up, with a table and some chairs. Siffrin has learned to make basic tea. At least. So they can put it on while Sariel takes his time. ]