kingston v. overgrown tower (day 3)

Frozen; like the stone people before. Kingston Cesaire could feel the moment his eyes open; the terror of another dream building beneath his skin. The turmoil of a man settling between the bones of his body; almost too close to a reality that'll never exist. Love doesn't exist for boys like him. Lost in the endless control others have over him now. A story written with the blood of his own creation; the wounds scattered across skin. Scars burned to flesh. A reminder of the freedom that all of them once had before they became toys to be watched and broken. A spark settles at the edges of his fingers as he brings them up to his neck. A deep line of blood still smeared where his head almost came off.

The forced feeling of a tug to avoid straight up death. The knight of stone still lingering in his vision; a dandelion's seeds drifting in the wind along his mind's sky. It's a gentleness he'll never forget. A pain still burned to his flesh, but he feels as if something's amiss. A warmth lost in the breeze of the morning. A scarf; knitted and filled with the tears of a dead man. No. He can't remember it clearly. The warmth had been there, but the grief of tears still bleed onto his cheek. All he can do is feel his own eyes with solemn tears of emotions he's unable to contain beneath the dream he's still reeling from. Only his words drift through the air for just a second.

"What happened to you?"

Fingertips dabbing at tears along his cheeks; there's sorrow to be sowed into seed and planted in the dirt.

Stone. Frozen in place. Unable to move a head; Kingston stares ahead where his heart finally catches up to his mind. Not real. Unable to be real. No one loved Kingston in a way so profound. He's never had a romance where he could give up his soul; carry the worn items of someone who loved him. The dream was just that. A fleeting feeling of someone else's emotions. A curse the arena's given them. A gamemaker's tool to break them over and over. It's a bitter taste as he fills his mouth with his tongue trying to rid the taste of a love so profound and so solid as stone.

Instead of sticking around, he moves. A gentle breeze to his step as if he were a dandelion drifting across the horizon. Pearl's somewhere out there still. Hell, all of the tributes were still there. It's a strange mixture of knowing he's still got more time to be here; a king or a knight on his own path forward. The stone people linger in his vision; eyes still wandering to see if he could find a sign rotted and left behind somewhere, but he stays moving. Not enough time in the day to be resting in a single spot. Always move forward, he's adrift with the wind itself. A dance of freedom in a place where everything wants to freeze over into stone.

Limbs too heavy as he marches past the cityscape of a medieval town into the forest once more. Rays of light dancing along the edges of treetops where words sing a song of sorrows. Paths move and bend along; lantern lights shining in front of his eyes; a cobblestone road turning to moss; green dancing along the edges of alcoves. A hand raised to block the sun from hitting his eyes. A pool of water surrounding the right side as he lingers left to keep moving forward. A beautiful lost place; serene in it's beauty, but nightmarish in how lost he's already feeling. In three, he could tell which way to go with ease, even with winding paths, but here, there was nothing but greenery to guide him.

Looping around a certain alcove for a few minutes too long, he eventually feels the side of a root where the water drenches his ankles sightly. Wet socks, truly the most miserable thing he could've gotten to experience now. Instead, he moves through until the path winds back up and then he notices the plants. Roots overgrown to an extreme; a garden once belonging to someone. His eyes glance around almost mystified, until he sees the main attraction.

A tower.

Vines draped against it's stone; a drifting breeze as he stares up into the endless sky where the tower reaches for. A signal of something important; too important to be ignored. Only, he walks around it for a moment only to realize there's a window, too high for him to comfortably want to climb up. Only, it's as he's staring does he realize the surrounding area. The window was the first sign of danger. Mist drifts; a dance of dandelions as it ripples down and down. Something in his skin crawls; a gut feeling burns as he feels his eyes stare in wonder. It's got to be where a treasure lies.

"I call myself the dandelion knight once and all of you decide to lead me to a tower? Should I yell for someone to let down their hair too while I'm at it?"

Rolling his eyes, he forgets that he's dressed like a pirate; a laugh almost escapes his throat, but instead he feels the sting of something else. Green mist reaches out; a gentle hand almost desperate to graze his cheek with the same love and emotion as his dream. Only it stings; burning as he rips himself away and begins to notices the mist and his heart beats.

"Shit! Okay! Sorry didn't mean to piss you off!"

Kingston runs; a dance of something akin to emotion still bubbles in his chest.

Flesh burns with rain; the crackle of thunder breaks through his skin. Stiff limbs pulling and pushing to not burn with the green mist following his form. There's nowhere to run but forward; almost stuck in this endless loop of wanting to stop and stare, but feeling the pain of this magical green mist against his skin. The world seems to spin around him; the taste of vitriolic pain on his tongue. Static settling in his veins as the billowing shirt clashes with his chest over and over. The warmth getting warmer; until the rain hits with a calm. It's chaotic. Feet stiff as he feels himself moving without a thought in his mind. Too many things to focus on and not enough time to rest.

The tower rises higher above him; a threat already stumbling through as he can feel himself wondering what his mother would think of him in this moment. There's only a single shadow above; wings spread as if the world itself couldn't stop the creature. Kingston can't feel the way his eyes stare almost as if the static in his brain couldn't believe what he was seeing. As he turns towards the maze of plants; he swears it's there, but he can't find the strange creature in the window he briefly saw. Stumbling against rock and brush; he feels his eyes stare forward. Water drops in small patters; a sign of the calm that's been collecting until the dam breaks.

"Rain too? Give me a break!"

Left. Right. Right. Left. Turn after turn, he feels the mist at the back of his neck; a burning touch of a gentle hand as if casted by magic. A dance with mist; the gentleness of a hand that reaches out for his flesh; life boiling beneath his veins. It's a painful existence to suffer from mist that burns and burns. His throat clenches with the feeling of coughs wracking through his body. Pain blossoming like dandelions sprouting from his skin; their bursts of pain as the rain drifts against him giving a small feeling of relief only for it to be taken away by the mist once more.

Static whistles along his ears; a dance of his own speed against the mist.

Serenity would've been had here; instead he runs through the chaos.

A knight running away from the tower; a secret spilled beneath the feeling of someone wanting to punish him. Is this what stories were built on? Fear and the overcoming of it. His voice is heavy; a breath caught in the sprinkling rain. The damp clothes starting to weigh heavier and heavier against his body. The world dances; he responds.

"C'mon I was just going to climb the tower!"