Grandeur Defector

XXV

Early morning.
A waning gibbous moon face shine like a opal just out of reach as the edges of the sky turned scarlet. Although night faded away for day, this time of year allowed both celestial bodies to share the sky. It was a spectacle, and always was. Diamond stars disappeared for a few hours at a time, then reappeared to shine light once more.
As pretty as nature was, the ugliness was just below. Tainted by war, the land was rotting from the inside, man's own nature corrupting its creator. Alone stood a man against the world on a hill picking flowers to pass time, purposely ignoring his own tragedy of a story he partially ruined himself.
At least, this is how he viewed it; but maybe, that was accurate.

Truffles squatted down and picked another flower, one that had lilac and yellow speckle splashes on its petals. He inspected it, taking in the organic scent of dew.
He hadn't slept all night.
Truffles sighed, shifted his weight to stand up again, and admired the hillside view.
Why are we fighting...?

He shook his head to force himself to stop asking more mind-confusing questions and peered at his little bouquet. He hadn't picked many because he felt bad for sentencing them to death over sentimental value so soon— there were just five he had gathered, all of differing color besides green.
He narrowed his eyes, his claws extending without conscious awareness.

This is stupid.
He won't like this. He's a man; men aren't supposed to like flowers. That's not masculine.
He snorted.
Do THIS Eleven, do THAT. Eleven, that is for boys only. Flowers are for women.
Why? Why can't flowers be for men too? I think they are quite beautiful. This is stupid. The rules are stupid. UGH.

His tail swayed in annoyance, his internal thoughts battling each other's logic. As he felt panic beginning to rise in his chest, he stopped himself.
'Breathe in, breathe out.'
R-Right...

The panic dissolved as Flippy's words rang in his head, his chest rising and falling with the ebb and flow of the late autumn breeze.
He opened his eyes.

I should... get back before he wakes up.

Nobody was up yet, except for guards. Being nocturnal had its benefits; however, his closest friend was a day-walker, and nights sometimes felt lonely without his friend being awake.
It was two different worlds, night verses day. The day was so loud and chaotic, birds chirping wildly while creatures roamed the jungle with their paws and claws, hooves and teeth, horns and blissful ignorance. At dusk they scattered, hiding away knowing exactly what they were hiding from. The moon's glow always appeared on the tree tips; night was quieter. Crickets and owls were the only things brave enough to speak. The only light there was, were tiger eyes—wild and mankind.
They walked in two completely separate worlds, one where the other would struggle to adapt in. Flippy would never truly grasp the absolute calm of the night's soft breeze, and Truffles would never fully understand why daylight was ever preferred in the first place.
Truffles was shadow; but even shadow couldn't exist without light from the sun.
Hmm.
Truffles' boots were quiet on the ground as he re-entered camp, the grass beneath cushioning his noises. His injured eye ached slightly; he closed it to give the eye a break. Quietly, he into the familiar tent near his own, ears perking up as soon as he heard Flippy snoring softly on his cot.
The bear looked very comfortable, his limbs splayed everywhere as his mouth hung slightly open to show his bottom canine teeth, the longest teeth he had. Even with his mouth closed, his bottom canines stuck out of his maw like little points in his smile. Truffles also noted that Flippy's tongue was pierced too. The slash he had received on his eye from a tiger soldier not long ago was nearly healed completely, new scar tissue covering most of it now.
Truffles inhaled.
He set the bouquet of flowers down next to Flippy's cot, close to the bear's medication bottle.
Wait.