"A most precious and endearing light. I am happy just to gaze upon her."
Soft footsteps approach.
"Luna."
Her usually apathetic gaze flickers with sadness. But only for a fleeting moment.
A flower, withered and offered.
A wispy voice replies with scorn, "I despise anything that reeks of death."
Questions are asked.
"He's beyond healing."
Soft footsteps fade out.
"I told you so. The Sun gives nothing. It's simply the way it is. Just as the flowers bloom, not for anyone's sake but their own.
"I am content with just being a flower. Blooming and withering away. That's all I ever needed."
Green eyes focus on the retreating figure of the Sun named Moon.
A withered flower crumbles, and the pieces swirl within the wind.
Green eyes lose focus and close for the last time.
