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.
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Fair warning, they'll make you have a drink before they let us with out the others. Poterians believe that everything's better with a little wine and song -- the inns even offered it over coffee in the morning.
[ Which made for a. Fun time, though they still don't quite like the taste of alcohol... It's fun to drink with others, anyway. ]
I missed it when I was traveling, but there's a port city that revels in masquerades. I think it'd be fun, even if you'd be an easy find.
[ (... You shouldn't, shouldn't think so far ahead, and still you can't help it. Not when Raha, your Raha, is so close and eager to insert himself where he can.) ]
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[ That little grin earns one from G'raha in return, pulling up on the corners of his lips as if the two things are connected. Well... they very well are.
He'd like to drink with Siffrin, actually, even if it might be dangerous all the same, given the number of landmines that they have to dodge between one another. Yet... he wonders if alcohol might help with that, too, and allow for full, unbridled honesty between them. ]
You accuse me of being easy to find as if you would not be easily distinguishable amongst the crowd yourself.
[ He lifts up his free hand, lightly tugging on one of the longer pieces of Siffrin's hair. ]
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The tug earns him a complaining whine, free hand swatting his side. ]
That's why I dyed my hair, Raha. Ka Bue doesn't have anyone like me, so I turned it lightless like theirs. It was useful going through Poteria too, but I didn't feel like redoing it...
[ So yes, they know, they stand out in the crowd... everything about them screams outsider, marks them apart, and yet
how often has Siffrin gone unnoticed regardless? A certain sort of know-how, unobtrusive and blending well with the crowd. G'raha might find him because he's looking, but one glance away... ]
... But it's fine. You're the only one I'd be looking for anyway, my Raha.
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That whine amuses him and he's quite frankly tempted to tug at their hair again, but he does his best to reign in that little impulse. Siffrin just has that affect on him, making it hard to forego acting on those little affectionate impulses.
But he likes their hair as it is, two-toned and all. It's unique and, quite frankly, suits them well. Thinking of it, he gives into the impulse to touch their hair, fingers settling comfortably in the tresses on the back of their head. ]
Then I shall do my best to challenge you. A color of mask you would not expect, and mayhap a hood on top of it...
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Hiding that cute tail of yours, too... We'll see how well you can disguise your gait, or what draws your eye. I've been watching you longer than you've been able to watch me, Raha.
[ Thanks to the sky, cloud like and brief as they are. ]
Sounds fun. I'll do the same. We'll play fox and hound.
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So you'll identify me by my walk, would you? Disguising it should be relatively simple, in that case. 'Tis not like I have not disguised it before. I fear you will need to use more obscure tells.
[ Which obviously Siffrin should disclose just to keep it fair. ]
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Then I'll be keeping those to myself. Consider that one a freebie, Raha, I won't give up another.
[ No matter the bribe. A traveler's got to keep his secrets, after all, tempting as it is to give a list and see all that G'raha can do to change it. ]
... Are you having fun, by the way? Touching me however you want.
[ Promise, they don't mean to make it sound worse than it does, they're just charmed at how completely G'raha has taken to it. ]
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That line of thought is immediately disrupted by Siffrin's question, every single thought in his head screeching to an immediate stop. ]
Um. I...
[ His tail puffs, much to his chagrin. It'd be really nice if he could control that reaction, actually. ]
I am. I... have spent long nights thinking of touching you over the last two weeks.
[ That, too, he doesn't mean to sound as bad as it does. ]
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Nevermind G'raha's words are embarrassing, if Siffrin had a tail it'd puff too. As it stands-- he's ducking his head against the other to hide his expression, help. ]
... Well, um. Keep at it. It feels nice, so. I don't mind. You can do pretty much anything to me right now and I won't complain. Probably. Haha.
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His face heats up in spite of his best efforts, heart hammering in his chest loud enough for Siffrin can probably hear it, what with the way he's tucked his face against G'raha. Or, rather, G'raha is sure they can hear it. Maybe not, if he's lucky. ]
Well. Um. You... anything? Really?
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(oh stars) ]
Um. Yeah. Anything. I've... been thinking about you too, Raha.
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To leave you afterwards and... see you again, but be unable to touch you was... um. Not the ideal situation.
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... How do you think I felt...? I could feel your hand, kind of... but not, um... not the way I wanted to, and... Just seeing you, in the sky-- didn't help any, either. [ An exhale, be calm, why is G'raha making them so nervous. ] It made me sick.
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I can... only imagine. After everything it must have...
[ Been torture, or at least some form of it. ]
I was at least removed from you mostly and I suppose that... at least made it somewhat easier.
[ Though only somewhat. ]
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[ Not quite enough time, depending, but also too much time, depending. Waiting is a hard game to play. ]
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Until now, when you suddenly give me permission for anything I'd like.
[ An overflow of touch to a desert and then back to an oasis of it. It's done things to his heart. ]
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won't be rescinding it though, not a bit. Feels cruel to take it back away besides. Not when he wants it just as much. ]
... Well?
[ Is. Is he gonna. Or is he gonna overthink it to death. Part of Siffrin knows what G'raha is capable of, after all, and there is an undeniable tug in that direction -- but literally anything, even just this, would satisfy them. ]
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[ What does one do when presented with so many options? After everything he's gone through in the last day or two, after everything he's learned and had to come to terms with...
Getting lost in Siffrin's warmth—in whatever form that may take—would be a balm on his soul. It already has been. His hand slides from Siffrin's hair and down to settle on the small of his back, his palm a warm, solid weight.
He's definitely overthinking this and he might overthink it to death, so he names what he thinks is his favorite option of them all: ]
Kiss me.
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It feels like Siffrin's standing on nothing but wire, readying the next step, the wind threatening to change course. An exciting, nervous thing, breath held until reply. There's many options. Plenty of things he could do or ask. Siffrin isn't even sure what they might say, in his situation -- beyond what they've taken now, bodily against him.
But answer G'raha does and they exhale (is that all?), conscious of the weight at their backside. ]
Okay.
[ Easily granted, a pleased sparkle in his eye as he sits up a little more to straddle the other. Their free hand settles beneath G'raha's chin to pull him in for the requested kiss, fingers curled ever so against his skin.
... It's light and languid, head tilting in a way that's becoming far more familiar with each go, while the kiss won't be anything "tail-curling" in the way one might expect-- they have time, and just as before Siffrin seems to be aware of that. A desire for more, but without desperation. Only a keen sense of want, yearning through the slow, careful way he seeks to trap G'raha, heart loud in his ears. ]
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That the kiss starts off slow and easy is to his liking too, enough so that he squeezes Siffrin's hand without realizing it as their lips press together, warm and familiar. But that underlying want is palpable in the angle they tilt their head and the way they keep him pinned in place like this, and it makes G'raha feel like they're teetering on a precipice once again, exciting in a way that he's sure won't grow old.
He tries to put what he can into the way their lips slot together, a mixture of longing and yearning and want along with other emotions he can't quite identify on his own—sureness for the future, perhaps, that things will work out in spite of everything else. That surety is there, at least, in the way he glides his tongue along his bottom lip, at least, his fingers pressing along his spine in that familiar motion before settling at his waist. ]
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As if there's no one else between them, lingering at the edge of their minds.
Siffrin's hand moves from his chin to cheek, cheek to jaw, jaw to neck-- pauses, a soft laugh into G'raha's mouth, and then pressing down to the other's shoulder with small circular rubs of their thumb. They'd given him permission to touch them as he'd wanted, but still, still, they can't resist taking what they've missed, the feel of his firm muscles beneath smooth fabric and the slight difference of his tattoo beside the softness of skin.
(You should remind him, you should, but you don't. Let him remember himself. You missed him, too. You have every right to this, too.) ]
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He's greedy, too, but avarice is something G'raha can put a lid on if needed. Siffrin, however, is alright with that lid being twisted off, so he'll allow his fingers to sneak under their shirt, palm settling warm on their bare skin.
Much like their skin, their tongue is warm, warm and alive, and the sweetness of their taste is enough to make his head spin, like he'll fall out of this tree any moment. Fingers squeezing Siffrin's hand tight, he tugs them forward so that they're pressed flush against each other. He laughs, too, because he can't help it.
Thoughts of brown hair and tall stature don't even enter through the back of his mind, his focus solely on the one whose weight he feels on his lap so keenly. ]
I never thought I could miss this.
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... It does nothing to help, truly, when everything else is a reminder of G'raha's feelings, and he swallows softly. Helplessly affected. As ever, quiet in reply. ]
You never gave anyone a chance.
[ Not accusatory, but fact. Head always turned a different way -- be it to studies, adventure, or something farther off. ]
... Glad, though. That you let me have one.
[ Mumbled as it is, the words are sincere. Siffrin may falter and fumble, but they're genuine in their gratitude when it comes to this. Not just with G'raha, but-- with him especially, in the moment. ]
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As am I.
[ He stretches up to place a kiss to their palm. ]
I feel fortunate as well, knowing you have never given anyone else a chance either, much less allowed them to partake in what I am doing now.
[ And what he has done, and likely will do, as ill-advised as it is in their current location. ]
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I-- it never crossed my mind that I could have it too. More... for others, or in plays.
[ A passing thought of companionship on the road and then gone again, set aside because who'd want to be with someone half-formed? Half-remembered, with stark differences in words and beliefs?
They lick their lips, moving their hand to his cheek in an offer of a wrist in need of kissing too, a small request. ]
But I get it now. Why people like it so much.
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