#primroseshards

       he lost count around three hundred and hasn’t attempted to tally the knots since. for the last hour he’s been alternating between four intricacies: square. clove hitch. bowline. figure eight. square. clove hitch. bowline. figure eight. teal irises are UNBLINKING, resting upon the bend where the ceiling and wall meet. it’s at a patter of tiny footsteps upon the pristine floor that his gaze shifts.

      and there stands a FLOWER. skin and hair pale as primrose petals dolloped in sunlight. and he tilts his head, the flurry of the bloodied rope halting for a moment.

                     it wasn’t the strangest thing he’d ever seen at the park, and he’d seen quite a lot of odd things in his visits, but a young girl walking her cat was certainly something he couldn’t comprehend. once talking to the blonde he understood and looked forward to seeing the both of them, even if the cat didn’t exactly like him. that afternoon was just like any other. shortly after school was dismissed, in strolled primrose and buttercup. coriolanus greeted them both with a smile, ignoring the slight hissing from the orange cat. “good afternoon, prim. how did your test go today?”