A New Rose

Fleur's paws felt heavy as they found themself coming closer to the tent, thorned buds weakly attempting to keep them rooted in place. Each snap of a vine caused their heart to jump, their mind foggy and loud. As they stopped in front of the tent, they could hear the rasp of a paper being written upon.

It's fine. Nobody will find ou-

The tent flap was brushed to the side by a long tail, candle light flickering into their eyes.

"Ah, my sweet rose," they spoke, their gleaming eyes fixing onto them. The feathered quill they were holding was quickly set onto the table, their overwhelming gaze fixated on Fleur. Their tent was lavish: velvet cushions padding the floor, treasures and accolades screaming for his admiration.

Fleur opened their mouth, feeling that giddy, excited feeling rise up at the sight of them, "C-"

Suddenly, they paused, a frown on their face as those eyes studied them. "No no, that's not right." Fleur felt the plants on their antennae wilt, the word dying on their tongue.

They turned, their eyes suddenly resting upon the corner of their tent Fleur was never allowed to go near. The Flowers. He had always adored those plants from the crowds, the way blossoms would soar to his feet after every performance. His riches were piled, daises and lilies creating a platform for his favorite.

Roses.

The pretty wine reds always got his eye, alluring and beautiful as the flame upon his tail (as he liked to say). He reached up a delicate claw, carefully plucking a blooming rose from one of the bunches. They felt that blush return as he faced them, his other claw brushing away the daisies growing behind their ear to suck the rose there.

"That's better," he hummed. His red eyes shown.

Fleur blushed, feeling their worries melt a little more. "Thank you, Cassio."