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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
(You like the color red!)
What about us, they rightfully ask. Will we be able to recover the ones we lost? Ayaka puts in.
I can leave you all here with food and water, the goddess replies, and then to Ayaka: Nope. I don't know how to do any of that actually!
(... ... ..
She
doesn't?)
There's a soft, disbelieving laughter coming from beside G'raha, because who else would Siffrin sit with, G'raha and Yoru are his favorites here, they get to be audience more than anyone to his tremble and growing laughter, jagged and mean--
(She doesn't? Know how? She can't? She can't bring you back, can't send you home, can't--
You hate gods. They're as blinding useless as ever.)
A sharp inhale, seething coldly. ]
And here I thought... that the Change God was cruel.
[ That one made fun of Siffrin. But at least it didn't pull out the rug on a deal. ]
no subject
Look, he gets it. He understands.
But... if there is one thing he knows, it's: ]
Do not give into despair, Siffrin. The battle has not yet concluded.
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[ Less despair, more anger. It's always come out that way -- where was Loop, to point them in the right direction? Why are they stuck-- stuck here, unable to do a blinding thing.
It feels
exactly
the same as when Ayaka confessed in the promenade, when every bit of acceptance retched itself out of Siffrin's heart and stomach, hate and burning anger in its place. Twice, now. Twice.
On
the other hand, on the other hand on the other hand if it's
(If it's your
fault anyway
like Raha thinks, says,
isn't it better this way? maybe
they're already done
beaten the king
saved vaugarde
split off
not a thought to you, suddenly disappearing never to return.)
The laughter has a different cadence this time, squeezing their joined hands tight. More broken.
(This!
Would!
Be!
Best!
For them, for the family members you love so blinding much, wouldn't it!
Let go, Raha says! Maybe you should! What choice do you have anyway! Those incompetent idiots on the other side can barely solve a murder, much less convince a goddess!) ]
no subject
Sure, G'raha could admonish him, could tell him not to say he'll do such things but that wouldn't do any good right now. ]
Have faith, Siffrin. There are times when all we must do is have faith in those that can still walk forward.
[ All they can do is wait. ]
no subject
And they'd do it, of course. Too easily. ]
No, no, this-- you said it's my fault, didn't you? Maybe this is better. For them. My family members.
[ Even if
stars
it hurts so much, head and heart and body wracked with pain at the thought. Even G'raha's embrace offers little comfort, cold cold cold as they are. ]
no subject
I said your feelings were the reason. Not your fault. You want to retrieve them from the loop and now that you have an inkling of where to begin, you will.
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[ What holds them in place, if the reason isn't there anymore.
But something strikes them then, a memory, and they laugh again... relieved, a thousand emotions in this one. ]
Ah. No, they can't be. They're probably just dead. My family members can get through the castle without me, but Mira doesn't know the CARROT method. So they're frozen, along with the rest of Vaugarde. It's kind of pleasant. The world stops, like a nap.
no subject
[ He lets go now, turning fully so he can grab onto their shoulders. Maybe if he roots them to the earth, they'll fee more grounded.
Maybe. ]
The way time flows between stars is impossible to determine. When you return, 'tis possible that no time would have passed at all, or only a mere few seconds. You must be the one to free them and you will be.
I know it for certain.
no subject
(You're doing it again.
You're being someone he doesn't like. Even if he wants to see it how much can he stand before it's too much? It doesn't matter if someone likes to solve a puzzle or a riddle or a secret language. Eventually, that curiosity and challenge slides into frustration. Resentment. Exhaustion, most of all, and then...)
A shaky inhale, too far from G'raha, they want to be held again, this is punishment surely. Siffrin's expression is crestfallen, uncertain and scared most of all. ]
... I... guess you'd know, more than anyone... about that.
[ How time flows. Besides, the Universe...
... would right itself, once Siffrin returned. It wouldn't matter if they had failed. If Vaugarde was frozen. He's certain, beyond a doubt, that he'd wake up in that meadow with the sun shining, the birds chirping, and just as exhausted as ever. ]
no subject
[ His hands stay firm, because to him, it's something he'd like to be grounding. Grounding, calming. ]
The possibilities of what you will return to are endless.
[ Which means they might get caught right back in the loops again. In fact, G'raha expects it, and he has an inkling that Siffrin does too. ]
But all I ask in this moment is that you do not give into despair. You will free them, Siffrin.
[ And if he won't have faith in himself, then G'raha will have it for them. ]
no subject
[ Simple and plain fact. Anyone in their position would agree.
But G'raha knows, of course, that looping isn't for the faint-hearted. That no matter what, however they spiral and falter, giving into a murky darkness, there's always going to be a part that won't, that can't give up. Or let go, for better and worse.
So they huff a soft laugh, tired, and lean forward to rest on him again. Please. ]
I'm okay. It's just... been a lot, the past day or so. I can't throw in the towel until I know for sure, I'm just...
[ ... Tired, nothing and then everything and the worst day between what happened in the maze and G'raha and-- this, tumbling all together.
It's hard, holding it together. It's hard, carrying it all. ]
no subject
[ He does. He truly, truly does. Or, he would at least like to think that he knows.
Maybe, he at least understands what Siffrin is willing to share or let him find. He can only hope.
But as it is, his arms wrap around their shoulders, encouraging them to rest against him. That's all that can really be done right now, anyway. ]
You hold a significant amount of determination in your heart, Siffrin. I cannot allow that to crumble to pieces.
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... I'm glad to be yours, my Raha.
[ Just so he knows, quietly. Only for him. ]
no subject
Likewise, Siffrin.
[ who knows how else he'd be crashing out otherwise— ]