Red paint drips from many of the flowers, leaving them a particularly upsetting shade of white and an abandoned game of croquet stretches out between topiaries shaped as mutts from throughout the history of the games. If not for the obvious tending of the topiaries the garden might feel completely neglected. The flowers have grown wild and untamed, coiling up the bird legs of the mansion to creep in through cracked windows and lay claim to the halls. It almost feels as if the garden wants to reclaim the arena and, indeed, there is a suspiciously empty patch of earth at its center where the largest of all the topiaries seems to have gone missing. The occasional roar from within the mansion is almost as unsettling as the whispering wind outside, like the flowers are gossiping behind your back about how soon they won't be the only ones dripping red.

[Tributes can move freely between the Rose Garden and the Stilted Mansion.]