Underneath a Purple Sky and Several Tons of Rock

Bunker, Day -But I've lived here all my life-

Translated from Nelindar, Human year 6035, Talindarian year 8104. Primary source: diary of one Talindarian with a few entries by other unnamed authors. Diary follows 4692-4781. 

Valtari, 4692, June 27. Orinoco Gold Bunker. Entry 1

Welcome to our Bunker. Orinoco Gold Bunker, because we're situated near a vein of gold in Orinoco, Quirinteren. I've lived here for my whole life. My parents have lived here for their whole lives. My grandma tells me she remembers the color of the sky. 

Today is June 27, 4692. It's two years after the centennial of the second World War, and most of us have lost all hope. 

On the surface, they tell us, two gigantic nations, (Translator's note: Induni and Daeloma) each spanning roughly half the globe, battle each other. In the first ten years, all small cross-border nations were destroyed, leaving nothing but no-mans-land between the two unstoppable forces. 
Two years after the beginning of the war, everyone except half the army was sent underground, into bunkers such as mine. The government has promised not to take our men for the war, and they have upheld that promise for all our lives. We were unable to set up any communication between other bunkers and ours, so all of our news comes from the lovely newswoman who tells us everything about the battles, explaining that there is no war directly above us, as the entrance to our bunker is on a cliff impassable by horses or (Translator's note: not directly translatable. This is a long-since extinct creature, but seems to be like wolves but more horse-like.). We're lucky to be in a place like this. I can only imagine the terror of people in bunkers near us, like Orinoco Birch Forest Bunker and Orinoco Boulders Bunker. I've written "Orinoco" so many times it begins to look like nonsense. 

Enough about my life - let's talk a bit about me. 
I'm Valtari. I'm Talindarian - not that there's much of a difference between us and the Vyrkoll (Translator's note: extinct). Just that they can photosynthesize , and can't mate with us.
One more problem with the Vyrkoll: they're the ones we're fighting against. 
I saw one of them once: dead. It was stuffed in a museum, and a tour guide talked about what it could do. When someone asked why they couldn't keep it alive, the tour guide explained about the photosynthesis and why they couldn't live underground.
"So," someone said, "what, they can't live in bunkers? Are we killing droves of innocent Vyrkoll every day because they can't hide?
"No," the tour guide said, visibly uncomfortable. "I don't know what they do but I know they found a way to keep themselves safe."
Nobody asked questions after that. This was war, after all. There was no space for mercy or kindness to the enemy. That could cost your side many lives, as the newswoman told us about the battle in Maradon, Levant (Translator's note: Levant is in Ferrosia), where a Talindari gave a Vyrkoll woman some of his cooking oil, and she, using that oil, fixed up an old plane and almost brought defeat to Daeloma in that battle. Of course, we won, but with much greater losses.

Sometimes I wonder how people in the other bunkers are doing. Maybe one day there will be no battling near us, and we will be able to see the surface, at least for a couple seconds. I want to see the purple sky and the golden trees and breathe "fresh air", because my grandma tells me it's supposedly "good for me", as if anyone knows. As if anyone's been up there not in the middle of a battle for the past hundred years. 
Anyway, I guess it won't be pretty, because there would be smoke everywhere, craters from the bombs, and dead bodies rotting in the sun. Maybe I don't want to go out until someone's cleaned it all up.

Anyway, it's my shift in the gold mines.

Talindarian year 4692, June 27, Valtari.

"Hello my friends!" I smile, donning a hard hat and picking up a drill and a tiny pick-axe. "Time to get rich!"

Nobody laughs. Nobody ever laughs - except crazy Riada, but then again, she's crazy. I sometimes think that I'm crazy, too. 
But that doesn't matter. Through all my life, beginning from 10-year-oldness, where my parents began teaching me how to use a pickaxe to help break out the gold pieces, and then from age 15, where I was given that pickaxe and told to mine that gold, I've enjoyed being in the bunker.
Well, there's a better explanation to that than "I enjoy standing in a dank hallway drilling rocks and every now and then hitting them with a pickaxe". We've always dreamed of accidentally digging too far and breaking open the cliff walls to let the outside world in. Not the "war" part, of course, but the sunshine and the small winged things that we sometimes get to eat that taste amazing.
And, there's a bet that's been going around for years now, of what color the sky really is. The debate is whether it's closer to violet (a darker, bluer color) or more magenta (pink! I love pink). I believe that even after we get to see the sky (and we will! There's lots of good news coming from the front lines!) there will be governments and long feuds between losers and winners. Oh well, I express my opinion by not putting any money in.