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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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[ just bear with it for a moment more. he'll be gentle. ]
You have not failed. You will return. We all will. I cannot say you are alright or not - that's up to you. But you're here with us. And we're here with you. Does that help at all?
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[It takes a moment, but very slowly...he nods.]
I...yes. [His voice is far away.] Thank...you.
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Welcome Sariel to your temporary death. But don’t let that stop you from taking your time to adjust. There’s no rush.
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[Yes, that's right. The dead will return. He hopes they will. People are still left there, left behind, like Vanis...]
[He opens his eyes, stares at the other man for a moment.]
Nnnno rush. Yes. [A pause.] What...happened to you, Yoru?
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[A pause.]
And then...you died. I don't understand. Why?
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[ showing sariel exactly where and miming the motion. ]
I knew he probably would. Can always count on Yoonhee to be himself. We’re good now.
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[It seemed so out of nowhere, like it was a simple happenstance rather than double murder.]
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[ yoonhee didn’t do anything, really. ]
Why do we vote every week? Why did people vote for Siffrin and kill them? Why did people vote for Hickey? I love Water Lily. If people insisted on killing us…
[ but there were those he couldn’t kill. cain. urianger. ]
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You and Hwylyrn...are very alike, aren't you.
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… If you say so.
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[He watches him, levelly. Unsure why he steps back, but not backing down either. He'snot judging. It more levels on curiousness, but it feels tense all the same.]
Or do you think your explanation was different?
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I don’t know what he said to you, do I? While you were trying to kill each other, we were working on fixing things - for everyone.
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[He still doesn't understand it. It feels nice and so so so wrong at the same time.]
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Your...story doesn't make sense. A metaphor, right? If that is the case....what war? And which one would you kill?
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Do you think love always makes sense? That it’s based on logic?? It’s never made any sense to me and I’ve only learn it a couple weeks ago. The question, Sariel.
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[Is it not? Maybe that's correct. So many things attributed to love don't fit in with one another.]
I may like the ants more. I don't...know about love. And I would not...kill fireflies for them. I don't want to kill anyone at all.
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In your hesitation, the fireflies gain strength and wipe out the ants.
[ he continues, speaking rapidly. he wants to get the point over with. ]
If only you had been more decisive! You can’t go back in time and fix things. It did not have to be that way, you think. But you only have the future ahead, and should you encounter this situation again with friends, loved ones this time, will you still hesitate to kill though you may care for both?
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[Soul after soul, reaped by his scythe. Mother, fathers, children. Over and over again.]
So I don't...want to be put in that position again. To eliminate meaninglessly. Fireflies should not die...simply because they are fireflies and not ants. If there is anyone to be eliminated in this war...let me stand as shield. And I will die in their stead.
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And so you did because Hwylryn chose to stop hesitating.
[ hwylryn chose to live, as yoru wanted for him. it’s not relief he feels, but something adjacent. a little bitter. ]
And then once you die? There is never only one war. Things will be as they are made to be. Some can change a little, some can’t at all.
[ humans will always be ugly on the inside, no matter how good they pretend to be. and maga… fighting nature only makes their urges worse. in the end, everyone loses if you care too much. perhaps he should have figured as much as a creature half-human, half-maga. ]