Why Are Roses So Red? (Closed)

[antique]

A pale hand lay scattered carelessly across ivory floors, seeping red ink like liquid roses. Although dismembered from it's body, the lithe fingers, as if still trying to grasp onto life, twitched ever so lightly.

Darkness, a pool of dark. Ink black, though light reflected on the surface, as if submerged in water. The white ivory was her floor, her stage. And yet she watched herself as an actor, and observed at the same time. At naked feet, lay a man's head, eyes rolled back to observe gray brain. A look of terror frozen on his lips into a gentle cooing sound.

More of these men tried to run away from her, yet they were attacking. An olive coloured doll stood erect as they opened fire on her. Fire. Wind. Ice. Rose vines erupted from the ground, curling, beautiful, plucking one of the pawns as he were a flower himself, the sickening sound of his head ripping off from his body, petals ripped from the stem. A tired look, as if he hadn't realized he had quite died watched as his body was used as a shield against the incoming magick. Used body tossed away, the vines held unto the head like a dangling grotesque Christmas tree ornament.

She slowly opened eyes, the color of garnet, reflecting the blood before her. The men who had been attacking seemed to bloat with gas until they bloomed like flowers, red petals dripped with spines, only their legs left over as stems.

Antique stared at herself in disbelief.

That isn't me.

Raven's flew, as if drawing an invisible curtain, to create a new stage. The orphanage that she had lived in before Miles Noctivagus and Henrietta Faust had adopted her. Antique's hands traveled up to squeeze against her temples. This was one thing that she didn't want to see.

A dead baby chocobo lay dead in the middle of the wooden floor. A boy, about her age, holding her back as her fellow orphans took chairs to smash the yellow bird into a pile of flesh and yellow feathers on the ground. She watched her younger self distraught. That young, child voice of her scratching her throat--please! Please! Stop it!

This is what you get for being a freak.

The child screamed as the boy holding her back bursted into red paint akin to angelic wings against the wall. The children who had been pulverizing the baby chocobo crucified on rose bushed.

Antique screamed.

I don't want to see this!

Her child self sitting in the middle of darkness, observing her hands. Though it was true, her flesh had a stain, made by a force she couldn't explain. It was a turbid purity, so murky that it did not have a name. The child shut her eyes, and stretched her hands out, reaching for something...something.

Antique drug her hands through her hair and screamed, distraught written in every corner of her delicate face. A standing fetal position, as if she were crying--no. She was covering her eyes--she didn't want to see anymore!

[darkunslint]

Through the darkness stood a boy. The boy wasn’t too old, around mind to late teens, surrounded by nothing, nothing and darkness. That’s all that was there, a void of life and light. He glanced over his shoulder to the girl sitting on the chair.

Slowly he placed his hand out, and the as she was reaching and reaching grabbed that hand, was this what she was searching for?

The hand wrapped around the girls like they where made to fit, something pulled them together and they danced, they danced around the blooded stage in the masquerade of inked out faces.

The boys mouth opened, it moved but the words fell dead in the air, they wasn’t heard. What was it that could have been said? Then all that was heard was his final sentence. “ I don’t… I…Is that” the words where broken, they fell to the floor like nutshells, cracked open, useless. “ Come back to me” the words got through the invisible barrier that blocked most.

His hand slipped through hers, he fell downwards, further and further away. What would happen now?

[antique]

Antique watched as her younger self danced through a masquarade of scribbled out faces and blood; feet leaving red prints along the white ivory floor. The child couldn't make out what was being said--the words were slow, inaudible, like a recording purposefully distorted, and television static. She vaguely thought she recognized the boy, but everytime she thought of it, rose vines cut off the thought immediatly.

The blood on the ground pooled, torwards light--a door, stage left, seemed open, white pure light, but turned a yellowish hue as it started to dye out, blood seeping into it, the light retracting as if it were disgusting.

Bringing her attention back to the boy that was falling through the shadows, she ran, and beant down on the ivory floor, reaching out for him--anything solid, normal, non-bloody. The vines reached from the air below her, forcing her hands upwards, over her head, scraping her wrists, and her face. She hung her head.

More children. Faces that were blurry, like poor reception. She saw her child self, hiding her head--her snow white hair. Other children phased in and out. Antique let out a shout as a child before her, with white hair screamed in agony as her leg was ripped clean off, blood splashing onto her face. And Antique was helpess, unable to do something, as she struggled against the green vines. The little girl looked skyward, liquid roses pouring from her mouth, like a waterfountain.

Screams, adults bursting into the air. Knights, people she clearly knew. Armor crushed and manged like undone paperclips facing directions they shouldn't--brains from the helmet, white shining bone from the joints.

[darkunslint]

The boy stood in the middle of the battle, he was younger this time, maybe a year older than the girl. He stood there although younger still obviously the same person from before, he walked slowly across the floor as it turned from red grass slowly to blackness, the blackness blotched out the vision of the death, the mangled armour disintegrating like ash into the air.

With every step closer he took the vision disappeared, behind him the vision re-appeared, it was like wherever he walked he brought darkness with him, a darkness that stopped sight to the sun. To the light.

The boy put a hand on the thorns that had entwined themselves around the girl, the thorns sticking off them causing the red to leak from the boys hands, as the blood streaked along his arms, down his body before falling to the floor leaving ripples in the visions below, the thorns where slowly wrapped in the darkness that the boy brought with it. The thorns slowly retracting to the ground.

The boy spoke the inaudible voice again, chuckling lightly like he had just said something funny; it was like not hearing the conversation. “ So, can you remember my name yet?” he said, and with that a mangled warrior from behind came and pierced the boys chest, his eyes widened, coughing the red liquid towards the girl. A smirk appearing on his face, as the same darkness that wrapped the vines wrapped around him, he changed, still looking similar, now the older self. He turned around, the sword still in his chest, slicing up at the mangled warrior with an arc of darkness.

The wings sprouted of shadow behind him and he wrapped them around the girl. The distorted speech again, the vision fizzing like an old television. The boy spoke and spoke again, nothing seeming to get through, and then he smiled. “ Remember my name yet?” the words echoed and echoed over and over throughout the silence. The wings dispersed into the air and then, slowly at first, from the legs upwards the boy started to turn to ash, no blood, no shadow, but slowly in front of the girl he disappeared into the air. “ Can you… yet?” “My name” “What is it an—“ “Heh, still cant remember?” “What’s wrong, it’s only me Da—“ “ Can’t remember your old friends now?” “ Why did you leave me?” “Im so sorry, I had no choice, I will stay with you forever.” The words where almost visible they where so loud, they banged around the darkness, crackling popping, words missing. Various quotes all related to something, or someone.

The boy was fizzing into naught.

[antique]

When he walked closer, this boy who made things dark, Antique felt herself freeze--felt herself stop struggling against the green vines that kept her still. Blood dripped from his hands, her arms, ripples on the vision of the battle ground below. And yet, when she stared into his face, it was blurry--she could only make out colors--that his hair was an odd color.

Could she remember his name yet?

Who is here? There? Beyond me here?

A mangled warrior pierced the boy who seemed to know her; blood from his mouth splashed on her face. The vines dropped her lightly to he ground as she wiped her face, as she stared at her hands.

Red. The color of blood. The color I hate.

Her eyes widened as she looked at him--she grasped out to reach for the boy, only to have her hand pass right through him like a hologram. She knew she should remember him--but from where? She wracked her brain for a name, for a face. His face became clearer, but a name--a name, she couldn't find it! He was disappearing, like memories fading.

I'll figure out who you are! Don't go!

[darkunslint]

“Heh, Antique, you know me better than that” the boy’s voice rang out another quote from the past. “ When this is all over can we still meet up?”. “ Its poopy we have to leave, but we can be together again one day!”

The quotes washed around the air, the boy slowly fizzing into nothing, as if reading her thoughts (This is after all a dream) The boy disappeared into nothing and then appeared behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “ Ill wait to meet you again, wait foreveeeeeer!” another quote from the past.

“Its me, Da—“ The rest fizzed out, the quote not audible, the boys mouth moved to complete the name but the sound was lost in the darkness that shrouded him. Large wings made of shadows sprouted from his back, wrapping around antique and he sang, sang like the wings that made him appear to be an angel, the words echoed through the darkness. The tone was very solemn, very old sounding. And upon closer inspection… depressing.

“If you are near to the dark
I will tell you 'bout the sun
You are here, no escape
From my visions of the world
You will cry all alone
But it does not mean a thing to me

Knowing the song I will sing
'Till the darkness comes to sleep
Come to me, I will tell
'Bout the secret of the sun
It's in you, not in me
But it does not mean a thing to you

The sun is in your eyes
The sun is in your ears
I hope you see the sun
Someday in the darkness

The sun is in your eyes
The sun is in your ears
But you can't see the sun
Ever in the darkness
It does not much matter to me”

The music stopped echoing, the wings held close to antique. “ Da—“

[antique]

"Hee hee," A little girl's voice rang out before Antique and the boy in front of her. Snow white hair, sun-kissed skin, and violet eyes to match a royal violet dress that reminded her of an upside down flower. "You'll come and find me again, right?"

The little girl cupped her hands together, a flower blooming within them, blossoming lovely despite the darkness. It quickly proceeded to freee over, trapped in ice. She disappeared as the the boy wrapped his dark wings around Antique. She couldn't remember him at all, yet she knew she should. THough she couldn't remember his name--it started with "Da--" something, she clearly remembered the song. Not exactly at first, though she lightly sang the harmonies near the end of the song.

"Da---"

Everything went black.

[darkunslint]

The older version of Darkun had his wings wrapped around Antiques older self; he stared into her eyes as if waiting for something.

Nearby the child Darkun had was speaking, replying to the little girl with white hair.

You’ll come find me again, right?
“Heh, you know me, I’d fight through anything to find you again… I’m just scared that you might forget me” the boy had a tear streaming down his cheek, looking at the girl he said. “ You wont forget me… will you?”

The adult version pressed his hands on each of antiques shoulders, clenching her tightly in an embrace, the visions and echoes from the past, all had been forgotten, along with his name. “Antique” the adult version mouthed. “Remember…”

[antique]

Antique stared blankly up at the boy with wings; she didn't know him, but the feeling that she should was very strong. Face twisting into helplessness, her lips mouthed "sorry" onto deaf ears.

"You're my best friend ever! How could I ever forget you?"

It struck a chord of guilt within herself. A field of flowers bloomed before them, with red skies. Only the flowers weren't flowers, but corpses. A beating heart, freshly ripped from someones chest, dropped at her feet, heartbeat fluttering like birds wings, then slowly slowing. Crimson liquid dripped everywhere like a faulty water sprinkler.

"Da--" The words appeared in golden letters in the air. That's all she could remember.

"I'll remember you," she said, and smiled, tilting her head. "I made that promise all those years ago, right?"

But from where and when?

Vines wrapped tightly around her and froze, as if they didn't want her to remember.

[darkunslint]

The vines had wrapped around Darkun now, they buckled his wings, crushing them into mangled messes of dark feathers. His legs where wrapped and slowly he was dragged away from Antique. “ Remember Me,” he shouted, actually speaking this time. The vines crushing and pulling him away.

He lay there, several feet from Antique, the vines had crushed what where once beautiful onyx wings, his legs mangled together and his arms barely twitching. His head tilted up slowly looking up to him and Darkun cried, the red ink leaked from his eyes in tears.

The red ink stained the grass; it tinged red, the corpses surrounding the fields. “Remember” he spoke again in a desperate attempt to get to Antique he clawed pulling himself towards her, using what little movement he had left in his arms to crawl towards her, ripping the grass, moving the corpses.

The black that had surrounded him started to fade, the haze around his name began to dissipate and the thread of his life was being eyed by the three fates.

[antique]

Antique struggled against the rose vines, managing to free one hand which had been horridly scratched up. Straining against the vines and ice, her hand reached out for him, though the same vines that held her back were dragging him away as well.

Her fingertips managed to brush against the top of his hand, grasping it--

"I'll remember your name!" she shouted at him as the vines pulled her back once more.

"Dark----"