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English
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Published:
2014-05-20
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429
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1/1
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You Couldn't Stop Running

Summary:

A prose writing about Dave and Jade during and after the game.
Second post, Edited to hopefully make it better.

Notes:

Work Text:

You dream of green flowers.

In fields far from here, they drift in the swirling breeze, thriving in the light, as time keeps the rhythm of nature.

 

The breeze is fun and caring.

In it you see a boy.

A boy with the brightest blue eyes and wild black hair, soaring without a single care in the world.

 

The light is smart and beautiful.

She is a girl with short, golden-white hair. Her eyes are a piercing purple, and her lips are painted black, pulled into an elegant smile.

Though the light can sometimes set.

 

The time is also caring.

He has stunning red eyes. Red as a fire. Red as rage. Red as his blood.

Only ever seen by his true friends.

They are always hidden behind shades.

His hair is a stunning white. White as the pale face of a clock.

He has sworn to protect the others with his life.

 

The flowers are the focal point.

Caring and gentle, loving and powerful.

The flowers seem to reflect space.

They say the flowers are the prettiest shade of green, and can brighten up anyone's day.

 

In them is a girl.

She has raven black hair, and her eyes are windows into an endless space.

 

For a long time, the time and the flowers were separated.

The flowers couldn't grow or blossom, for time was not there to flow.

Time couldn't think properly, for the flowers kept him happy.

As the times grew darker, Time and Space slowly drifted away.

The Flowers wilted, and Time couldn't take his own internal clock.

Ticking, ticking, ticking…

Forever forward, and never back.

Back into the days when he was with the flowers.

 

He found the Flowers, wilted and dead, with dogs running around her, taking the wilted petals with them.

He had to chase the dogs. They were fast, but Time was determined, and flowed faster than anything.

When he did catch them, he took the petals in his hands, calloused from all the fighting he had done, took them lovingly, and, protecting them with all his heart, begged for Life's help.

The flowers were wilted. Brown. Limp. Rotting.

But slowly, Life coaxed the colors back into them.

And the Flowers were back.

 

As Time and the Flowers neared danger, they held on to each other.

For though even Time could not see past the cloud ahead, they had something to live for.

Time loved the flowers.

The Flowers loved him back.

And dying together was the wish, the only true wish, they had always wanted.

And they would have it.