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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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Okay, no. What happened was that she walked far, far away from the tree toward the end of the trial, unable to stomach any of it - what she heard there and what she heard here and especially what she herself was feeling in her miserable heart.
She came back around, but is flighty still, and as he comes toward the main cottage he might notice one of the others' doors crack slightly and then close swiftly, almost like a ghost did it.]
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In spite of everything else he feels, he smiles. ]
Come now, Andrew. Surely you know I want to see you again as well.
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So when he knows it's her and calls out accordingly, the side cabin's door swings back open a little bit, inviting him in to the barebones arrangement.]
I'm in a bad mood. [Her usual warning, too, but it's only her voice... She hasn't seen him come through the door yet. She's fussing with a teacup.]
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Is that so?
[ There's no surprise in his voice. She does have a tendency to be morose, after all. ]
Would you consider telling me of the cause of your gloominess?
[ He has a feeling, but... ]
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Then she bursts, suddenly, into traitorous, unexpected tears, her whole body shaking.]
This shouldn't have happened, [Andrew blurts.]
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But they pour and he rushes towards her without much thought to pull her into a hug. It's not unlike when Lyna would get hurt and he would kneel down to offer a hug, except Andrew is taller than he is, but it isn't awkward.
Hopefully. ]
No, it should not have.
[ His death, is what he's thinking she means. ]
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His death should not have happened, and neither should so many other things.]
I was meant to... [Mind the living, to the best of her abilities as a stuffed capybara. That caused had done "a lot of heavy lifting," she'd sarcastically acknowledged at the time. Now she understands it. Oh, she loathes Ish terribly, suddenly. The hatred has been all over the place. He had to have known already. The dragon -
No, she can't let her mind spin down that way.]
Please forgive me.
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That she does speaks to her state, he thinks. It's why he keeps his hold on her a little bit longer than he would otherwise. ]
My forgiveness was never something you had to earn.
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It was. Yet, when she goes to speak more about it... Her shaking hands slip off his shoulders and gather in front of her.]
It's nothing. I just wish I had been able to protect you. [And that... is very unpleasant to voice. She feels this for both of them, even - Sariel is so innocent to Andrew no matter how old he is or what he is. He made the mistake of being fooled by false kindness.]
I want them dead, but you don't, do you?
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You have already predicted my feelings, I see.
[ Not a surprise, given how smart she is. Sure, Andrew thinks that she knows nothing of him at all, but she's been able to easily guess at many things about him. ]
Junior was apologetic, and I believe, put up to this fully by Hwylryn. I feel no ill will towards him, though I do hope he finds himself with better role models in the future.
[ Preferably ones that aren't insane dragons??? ]
As for Hwylryn himself... his friendship with me can be considered adrift in the sea he loves so dearly. I will never forgive him and I will never acknowledge him again. I attempted to reason with him, even as he thrust a knife into my stomach, but it was wasted breath.
And I believe anything else I have to say to him would be much the same.
[ Wasted, wasted breath. ]
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[There's more emotion in her voice than there usually is. She's vexed, not merely by the way his death transformed into a game in front of her eyes during the carnival, but by how placid he is. It doesn't matter that he didn't see what she saw and, therefore, has no way to weigh that in his reaction.]
So it's fine to treat your life that way, too? [Like a waste... Even her death had been, in part, because her actions led to Siffrin's. Some would say that she got the justice she deserved.
Is there no justice for him...? Why doesn't he care about that?] If something's nature is rotten at its core, then I don't think it can ever be changed.
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[ Though he understands where she's coming from, and there's something about it that... makes him happy, that she cares so much about him that she's angry on his behalf. It's selfish and he shouldn't feel that way, but having someone like Andrew on his side...
Well, it's meaningful. ]
That is... not to say that I believe he will change. I do not know him capable of it and I would not want to find out. I have seen that my words have an ill-intended effect.
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Tormented by her own lack of action, Andrew had no choice but to let her emotions divert into helpless frustration.]
Punishment was never even on the table. Doesn't it make you angry that you were denied justice from the start?!
[Or was he just glad it was him and not someone else?]
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And he will. He has to, if he wants any chance at moving on. ]
I am glad that it was not you, Andrew! I am relieved that you saw justice, that your killer was rooted out and taken to task for what he did to you. If what happened to me were to happen to anyone else at all, anyone I care about, I—
[ Would not have been able to move past it. His fists clench tight, nails digging into the skin of his palms before relaxing. ]
I am relieved that it was me. If anything, it should have been me alone.
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And why should it have been you? Did it never occur to you that the people left behind couldn't stomach what you saw as good for "their sake?"
[She is so, so close to realizing that someone might, at least one day, feel the same way about what she had once planned to do. That would require someone to care for her. The act itself bothered her enough; it was the crux of her argument with Siffrin. Four weeks ago, she'd wondered about the sins committed in the name of love that ended up hurting the loved one; now she's seeing it in stark illumination. This added complacency, the sudden acceptance of injustice...it's what makes her demand another answer, even when there isn't one to be had.]
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It twists his stomach, thinking of what the others must have gone through at seeing his body, all because he refused to defend himself. There was a reason why though—he didn't want Hwylryn to think it was okay to do what he did, and he didn't want to disrupt the peace that he had agreed to keep with Lili.
Bound by promises and knowledge, he was forced to bear it.
Even so... ]
No, it did not.
[ He thought of what was best for the situation and not beyond it, a habit that is difficult if not nearly impossible to break. ]
I am selfish, Andrew. Painfully so. I would much rather make those I care for see something like that than to see it for myself, than to know that they had gone through something so horrible.
[ There's a jagged edge to his voice, raw in a way he hasn't let her hear. These are his honest feelings. ]