rock and a hard place [pearl.v.kingston.v.sk] day 2 /12:45pm

Darkness settles over a storm; the spark of a new day settling beneath skin. The echoes of a dream settling through his frame. A dandelion; born anew in the stone workings of a solid ground. The tiredness of a king; voice ethereally filled with a hundred different exhaustive moments. A knight, young and strong, but ever so weathered by a duty to stand tall. A fireplace where wood crackles and burns and burns and burns. Coals left in the white ash; fluttering like a dandelion's seeds. Metal against stone; there is no escaping the darkness of a dream.

Until he jumps with a start; a distant memory held beneath his brow as he can only whisper to the open air. "Strange." The sound of his own voice leaves him feeling empty; as if the pieces of his mind have been devoured by whatever dream he had just seen. Instead, he ignores the feeling for checking his surroundings. Empty, forest filled, and alone. Footsteps moving with a dire sense of no purpose. A solid stone ground as he explores endless destroyed village homes. Stone people scattered about; dreams aside, he could imagine the way these everyday people would go about their days as normal. A dreamlike state of living; fantasy spread across the land as they'd live the simplest of lives.

Would it be easier to be stone? Someone stuck in a moment where they'll always be forced to stay. Isn't that what they've already become. Future ghosts to be trapped just like these stone people. Gently, his hand caresses the cheek of a man. Almost a fluttering softness as he pulls away, fear still gripping his heart. They were going to come alive. He just knew they had to at some point. The gamemakers wouldn't stick random statues everywhere and not have some abomination of nature attack them for entertainment.

A sword resides somewhere nearby; rock and metal. His mind can't help but to focus on what happened to it. Would someone become a king? A knight? Whoever pulls it must be important enough to be treated to a reward so mighty it'd be a surprise. There's a pause in the air; a tension almost seeping into his skin as he steps forward keeping every statue he sees at his forefront. He was not going to let some stone person get the jump on him.

Only when Kingston Cesaire can feel his fingers grip tighter around the axe is when he feels something rise at the back of his neck; too close to the center of his throat. Something felt off. The sound of metal and stone ring; he turns a corner too quickly. The girl from four. A stone knight. Blades coming forth. Whispering to himself, he says the first thing in his mind. "I fucking knew it." Only, he's not a shining knight in armor. Just a man with an axe dressed like the pirates in too many books he's seen read.

The stone knight's sword rips at flesh; a distant cry of something red falling from her. His eyes widen as he thinks about how it felt to be wounded by someone. The sting hadn't left yet. Afraid of weapons and getting hurt, he stares ahead. Four seems to take on the offensive and he can feel his heart beating in his chest. Fear. Undoubtably fear. Her words are sarcastic; almost too annoyed as he watches her roll her eyes at the stone knight. Was it him in the dream? Too young. Too worn down.

Instead of staying where he was, he moves with a sudden fear. There's nothing stronger than the desire to help someone. His ma would tell him he's ridiculous for being afraid of stone people. Someone was in danger. Kingston never sat back in the shadows before. Always rushing to help the others not get electrocuted by fallen wires or blown circuitry. Instead, he moves around the other side of the knight, his voice clear as he speaks to the girl.

"Knights are overrated anyways." Lifting the axe up, he swings with the emblem of the king. "Seems like you could use a Kingston." It's ridiculously goofy, but he's trying to make things better. His ma would tell him to lighten the mood; it's how he's made friends before. Four seemed to be able to keep this handled on her own, but it's better to help where he can.

A dandelion's seeds flutter somewhere as metal strikes stone once more.

Blood.

It's the first thing he can see as he pulls his hand back with a burst of pain. A word slips beneath his lips; a whisper of the actual strength he doesn't possess. "Fuck!" Bloody knuckles set in line as he pulls back with the axe in one hand and his bloody knuckles at his side. Shaking blood and clear bruising, he's never really thrown a punch before. Let alone a punch meant to crumble stone. A really dumb idea, but surely someone somewhere was laughing it up at his antics. Better to be rememberable than a ghost; he didn't want to be a dandelion in the wind. Instead, he wanted to rise out of concrete, bring forth something no one has ever seen. There may have not been any tech anywhere, but he's certainly going to try his god damn hardest to at least win someone over. Even if the only one he gets to win over is himself.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." He can't stop the words spilling from his lips until he catches Four's words. A laugh almost bursts through despite the pain as he shakes his hand. "Nah." Carrying the word in the air as if he's cool, he smiles. "They're probably rooting for us. Who doesn't like a surprising twist in tributes?" There's a bit of a confidence he's oozing. Attention is something he didn't get often. Honestly, he's always been the one people kind of shoulder their stuff onto. Better for him to carry it than most. Community was important to him; he shared words with those who needed him. He worked hard to help people in his community and really, he was just trying to stay relevant in a world that hated relevancy. Four's words ring once more and he stares at the knight for a second, there's a tiredness that he could remember. The darkness of dream holding to the back of his mind like a spider's web wrapped around it's prey.

"I'm not surprised. Not many knights get to be Kingslayers after all."

Throwing a cringeworthy wink is enough to make his skin crawl, but he's got to stay relevant.

Her words cut through once more; just like the blade of the knight cuts through her. Books? Nah, he didn't care for words written on paper. It's all about the digital world now. Even in Three, there's not really a reason to pick up a book except for the past knowledge of people to relive that love and feel of a good page. Kingston loved to read when he was younger, but now, he preferred the clacking of a computer. It's simpler.

Queen? Four really was giving him such a hard question. It's not like he didn't think about wanting someone at his side. Hell, he's had a relationship or two, but it's never been so substantial. Like a gentle dandelion in the breeze, he laughs after declaring it to be not herself. He stares openly for a moment, stuck in his head before he shakes it at her. Too heavy for a crown. A laugh almost wants to come out, but instead he holds it back with a snicker. "Like you said, heavy is the crown that wears it. No queens here. Just me, myself and I." Shrugging his shoulders, he looks back to the axe in his hand. Better switch it up. The punch burned, like seeds in the wind, he could feel the way the dandelion's seeds scatter across the land.

"'M not really a king either." It's a laugh. "I'm more of a Ston King, get it Stone King?"

It's stupid enough to make him snicker.

Always like a dandelion, spread across a place. People gather to sell their wishes to him. He wanted to thrive like a weed; spread like one. A dandelion king. A dandelion knight. A dandelion hero. Either way, he held onto these wishes told to him over and over again, spread through his skin like a spark. Community built him up, but now it's time for him to rebuild a new community.

"Hope you know I didn't forget about you Knight." There's a pause as he smiles, axe swinging forward. "Let's get ready to Rubble!"