i can buy myself flowers [p:k:a ; day 4]

Friends don't exist here.

Like the dandelion between his fingers; the seeds drift against the wind and the drizzles residing with a gentleness he could barely settle into. The tower's looming presence ever so protective as if the grotto surrounding him holds Kingston tighter. Avoiding the rest of the world outside the magical stone tower where secrets lie hidden within cold stone halls. Books, plants, and mysteries left unturned, but he had watched the dust settle for too long. Waited by the edge of a window with a dandelion's embrace where the seeds broke through stone. A gentle reminder of hope settled into the deep stone; a reminder of an apology of an old wizard.

Forgiveness. It's all a confusing mixture in his head; a jumbled puzzle of a story being thrust into their minds. A tale spun into reality where they've been tossed right in the middle of. Expectations for them to solve the mysteries of stone and heroes as if they were a new generation of knights, of kings, of queens, of heroes. All of these emotions filter like a gentle sprouting of seeds; the gentle breeze taking them away. Floating seeds drifting along the caress of mother nature's breath as if she could cool down even the most rampant of thoughts.

Friends don't exist here.

Not quite the way people expect.

Perhaps he's finally lost his mind.

A cure within his head; he knew how to undo this strange stone curse settling through the lands around him, but what good was it for if he couldn't have enough hands to cure everyone. Not once has he been a hero; instead he's just a boy with a computer. A kid who knew how to program and build databases for the insane; functionality wouldn't matter when blood is drawn. The cannons don't fire. It's the only thing he's kept true track of in the past hour. Adrift in thought by the window's side, almost like the princess in a book he used to read as a kid.

When it comes down to problems, he's always been one to find a solution. A mind always fluttering like a dandelion's seeds in a storm; he would fight when it comes down to it. A promise to be a knight to no one in particular, he can still taste the bitterness of his words on his tongue. The jokes spread only a day and a half ago. A king. A knight. A hero. In all instances, he was gentle. A beautiful, yet mundane small existence in a vast world larger than himself. Like a dandelion, he was resilient, strong, and ever so boring.

In here, he played up the theatrics, but in his heart, he was scared.

Just a scared boy pretending to be resilient in the face of danger; it's a mask he's been used to.

Electric wires still fresh in his mind; it's not the first time a life's been on the line, but it's still just as scary as the first.

Sleep finds him in the lonesome tower where mysteries lay abandoned.

The dream comes again; a gentleness within the chill of someone who loved. Whispers on the wind; flowers blooming in a field farther away than Kingston's been. There's still the faint smell of pine and honeysuckle; a feeling of love burning in his chest. The faces are blurred, lost in the mist of a haze. Undefinable features left as he can hear himself speaking about finding the ingredients. A field. A field he's never seen. Only, there's stone of the other person he talks to. Might as well been talking to stone; he never replies. Tear slipping past; a gentle reminder of grief. Love blossoming in his chest, Kingston can feel the stone unmoving turn of his head, but it's not the same.

Instead, he can taste the bitterness on his tongue.

A lie.

Love wasn't there.

Love doesn't exist here.

It's all lie; he'd never be reunited.

Awakening with a start; he feels his heart pounding in his chest as the heat rises. Sweat drenched through the mostly sheer white top he wears. There's no cooling down as he clambers up, fingers against his cheek wondering if it'd been his own tears in the end, but nothing is there. Only sweat of clammy skin from a terrible sleep. Kingston swallows the feeling and sets off. Climbing down a tower and moving out and away from the grotto that's kept him contained for too long.

As the steps grow larger, wider, Kingston knew this day would be the bloodiest of them. Even bloodbath had been less bloody than expected; he knew the gods of this world would want to move their pieces place by place until it was exciting to push them together finally. Everything felt off as he carried the axe across his shoulders; a gentleness to his form. Two more things is all he needed in order to follow through with his own personal quest. Joints seeming to stick every so often, slowing his pace down more than expected.

Overgrown trees, a grotto hidden behind rock begins to morph away. Trees start to rise and fall in less dense patches than before. A hum on his lips as he stares out into the flowery landscape covering this side of the fields. Flowers with petals carrying the simplest of dew drops; dangling at the edges of petals wanting to fall away and be nothing more than a memory carried in the heat. It's a beautiful sight minus the sporadic stone figures still recognizable in the field. The gentle feeling of knowing the truth unsettles his stomach ever so slightly as he caresses a single daisy.

All he does is tug a dandelion free, setting the seeded weed against his other ear; a gentleness as he wraps flowers in his grasp to stick through his hair wondering if it would look just like his younger cousins with beads woven into their hair. They'd have a field day if he had ever allowed them to weave flowers into his own hair, but he can't help but smile as he let's himself remember the family back home fondly.

Friends don't exist here.

Flowers do.

Crack.

The sudden sound echoing in his ears; a twig against his foot where he could see crushed tulips underneath his shoe. Pearl stares at him for only a fraction of a second; he realizes it's her too slowly. Almost having not paid attention to anything around him, stuck collecting flowers and watching stone reside in the beauty of this place; he'd been left dumbfounded in front of Pearl once more. Last time, he'd come running like a hero to rescue her, but this time he'd found her by chance.

Gold gleams from her sword as it's pointed towards him; a stop of a breath as he glances around once again. Pearl of the seas' voice flits with anger; the kind that burns with just a flicker of the words. A promise to the wind; a dance with destiny. Almost, almost does he forget that this was clearly the gamemakers' intentions. A game had to be set. A pawn had to be taken. Almost too calmly does he smile like a threat on his face; his voice comes out almost teasingly with that same jovial tune from when they'd met the stone knight himself.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Axe pulled off of his shoulder, he grins almost too perfectly as if he were like the stone itself. Dandelion breaking through stone, he continues. "Things got boring. Looks like it's time for the next chapter of this story." Only he stops as her words catch him off guard. Someone else. A friend. Kingston hadn't been with anyone else? To be frank, he's only seen Tick and Andromache, but neither had followed his path after the first day.

Friends don't exist here.

A laugh leaves his lips.

"Oh things are getting interesting." Taking in the other, he recognizes him. Not for the reasons he'd like, but they're too similar for him to not notice. Andres from Ten. A brief feeling of intrigue settles into his chest, but he doesn't focus on it as he smiles a bit softly as he speaks again. "Friends don't exist here." Knowing he's throwing her words back at her, he lets himself tense up. "I thought you knew this, Pearl of the Seas." A pirate, a merchant, and a pirate queen walk into a flower field; the dandelions blow.

Mother nature caresses their shoulders; a blessing upon them before the beauty of a field of flowers in ruined.

Blood.

It's red.

Dripping from his shoulder, he coats the ground with his blood. A dandelion's seeds stick in the mess below; a beautiful scene having been ruined by blood as he shifts away from Pearl's blade. His voice tsks in response as he lets his voice speak back. "Blood? Seriously?" Teasingly, he holds the axe out as he continues. "All they really want is entertainment. A bunch of knights to root for." As he holds the axe out, he stares to Andres as he swings towards Pearl. "It's a good thing I'm a King....ston!"

As he pulls back, looking to Andres, there's a sort of sadness to his gaze. It's one thing to strike back at someone who's attacked him; it's another to become the very thing he swore he wouldn't be. Promises are meant to be kept. It's a lie. Like the dream, he can feel the lie in his head already. A dandelion breaks through stone as he stares at Andres. Voice ever so gentle as he speaks; almost wanting to spin a tale once more.

"Sorry about this, it's nothing against you, but the dandelion knight can't disappoint his fans." Gesturing wildly to himself, he smiles brightly despite the burning pain in his shoulder and the blistering fear in his chest. As he holds his axe up, he lets the last few words hang before his face goes more serious; his eyes glancing to each of them.

"One last twist for you both."

Friends don't exist here.

It's a lie.

"I found a cure for the stone curse."

Conflict is the reason stories exist; a tale spun to tell the lives of those who fight, who survive, who live on. It's what they've become; characters in their own stories spun in front of screen, but the blood was real. The pain was intense. The burn was heavy. Sparks of their own life settling between their ribs as if the very code they were made of was unfurling and fraying at the ends. Kingston can't quite find himself feeling brave all of a sudden. The burning of fire in his body sets off as he can feel weapons being dragged against his skin where red drips free. The blues, greens, whites, yellows, and so many other flowers start to glisten with the color.

A dandelion's seeds clump together with the heaviness of the liquid; his eyes go wide at the sight. All he's wanted to do was to survive. Kingston Cesaire wanted to survive the hell that he's been trapped in. Become a knight or a king or a sorcerer like the children's stories he'd been read as a little boy. It's a burning fire of not wanting to die. A fear of a boy who didn't want to die so early in life. A heavy heart as he stares back up at the two of them, hearing blood drip from his body. Their words swirling around his ears as he can feel the thrum of his own heart now. Every story has conflict; a tale spread from great triumphs and resolution of problems, but Kingston knew all of them were being written as if this was their story. Too many children who've wanted to be these heroes themselves. Too many children forced to be them.

"I hope you find peace and strength, Andres." It's the simplest thing he can offer; through the pain he can see they're all getting more desperate. Their weapons are hitting faster, harder, and more wildly. Desperation of children too afraid of death; he can taste the bitterness of a rotten storyteller on his lips, but he doesn't let himself speak anymore. Kingston doesn't want to kill someone. He's never wanted to kill someone, but here he's found himself. Standing before Pearl of the Seas and Andres the King's Knight, a story being spun where Kingston has to strike over and over again, until either one of them fall or himself.

Kingston only snickers as Pearl seems confused at his words; given everything the day before it makes sense to him. Not everyone would put the story together right away. A tale spun in front of him and he can see the code that makes everything fit neatly into place. A curse of stone. A knight of stone. The cure to breaking this curse. Like dandelions through stone, he's resilient and could be the one to solve the curse before anyone else. A heavy feeling in his chest as he laughs with all the pain settling into his ribs as he does so.

"My mind is far more tangled than even the vines here." It's silly to say, but there's truth to his words. He's always had a million things firing off in his head; sparks of too many things settling behind his eyes. "But, I am clear on one thing." It's at the tip of his tongue, the taste of something horrible. Eyes staring at the golden metal of her sword; the way gold shines ever so gently with the beautiful flowers below.

"I won't die here."

The two of them talk about a bracelet; a single moment he vaguely remembers from watching Pearl's reaping. A bracelet stolen. A promise sealed. A laughable thought, but he could see the pain in their bodies. Kingston could see the way Andres plastered strength onto his skin; just like himself. A smile through the pain trying to act tough for the sake of yourself. Kingston could feel the energy changing. The field of flowers before them starting to form into a graveyard. A burning feeling in his stomach as he can feel blades being thrown his way. His heavy axe held up trying to clash with blades swung his way. It's not enough to stop the burn. Its not enough to hold him together.

Like every good story, there's conflict.

The way to solve conflict is to find a resolution.

Unfortunately, that means someone has to die.

Deep down, he knew this.

He knew this.

It's why he stands taller; like the knight before. A dandelion refusing to be trapped within stone. Eyes burning with the pain; a heavy smile on his lips as he can feel blood pooling around his wounds. An axe swung forward as he can taste the fresh air. Sweat dripping down his brow, brushing against the petals gently as he feel the thrum of his heart in his ears.

"I refuse to die here."

It's painful.

"Even if it means having to kill you, I refuse to die."

A breeze.

Dandelion seeds flutter, a tale spun by a boy afraid to die.