Sweet Roses' Tinge

Blossom's Decay

(AN: that dove got dead and buried in quick sand so Tw for intense violence and gore in this one. Just a giant warning in general, it's not my most fucked up work but it's the worst I've ever posted. Enjoy :))

"Stanley- wait!"

The Narrator could only watch as his precious protagonist high tailed it out of the office. He winced at every loud slap as Stanley's shoes hit the concrete floors.

Stanley attempted to settle his breathing down. He wiped at his eyes and bit back more tears that were threatening to overtake him. He was on a mission, like a bullet, and nothing was stopping him.

The Narrator wasn't sure what Stanley had in planned, but something about it made his skin crawl. His protagonist was about to do something very, very, bad. He knew he needed to step in.

The familiar sound of dress shoes landing on the ground rang out behind Stanley.

"Stanley, don't make me chase you."

The voice only seemed to encourage Stanley to speed up.

He darted through the right door, turning through the corridors so hard he nearly fell over.

The Narrator sighed. After spending most of his time hunched in his small, dark office, he wasn't the most athletic. Compare this to Stanley, who hopped and jumped and ran every single day.

But still. The storyteller knew he needed to try and catch up.

He let out a small huff of frustration before speeding after Stanley. Now that he was running himself, he realized how hard it was. His protagonist had made it look so effortless. Perfect form, beautiful muscles all moving in one swift motion together. Hair bouncing gently on his shoulders, face scrunched with concentration. He looked more handsome then the Narrator thought was possible. The storyteller was quite impressed with himself, being able to bring something like that to life.

Currently though, the Narrator did not have nearly the same elegance as he struggled to keep up with the quick protagonist. Beads of sweat flung from his forehead, ragged loud breathing pushing its way out his throat. His lungs sounded like they themselves were reaching out of his chest and clawing for air. He moved unsteadily and unceremoniously. His hair became slicked to his forehead with sweat, and he had to keep a hand on his headphones to prevent them from falling.

He was an absolute mess, while Stanley was an absolute beauty.

Stanley, having now gone through the employee's lounge, raced to the lift. He crouched down and jumped to the catwalk below. The Narrator stopped running as he watched Stanley duck through the door.

The creaky lift let out a bang as it hit the opposite side. The storyteller doubled over with his hands on his legs, gasping desperately for air. He allowed himself the break; after all, how was he supposed to follow Stanley? Stanley had specifically chosen a one way ending, and stole the single ticket right under the Narrator's nose.

A tail snaked it's way into the Narrator's view, quietly prodding around to get a sense of the new environment.

An idea sprung itself into the storyteller's head.

Regaining his control over his tails, he directed them towards the catwalk down below. They weren't long enough naturally, of course. He grit his teeth and watched as the tails flexed. Slowly, but steadily, they became skinnier and longer, forming themselves into nice little ropes. They wrapped themselves around the railing of the catwalk below.

Unfortunately for the Narrator, that was the easy part.

He gulped one final breath of air before jumping down. His body collided with the side of the wall, producing a sickening thud. His lungs seized as all the air was knocked out from impact. The black, inky void of his skin showed no damage, but the Narrator could feel the pain radiating from the spots he had hit.