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Description
The ground was soft and squishy with moisture, muddying Bonaventure's claws. Most of the frost had melted from the forest now since Sorbet had been sealed away. But even though he was long gone, his presence left disastrous evidence. The trees in Creeping Forest had been ripped apart, and their dead leaves were strewn everywhere. They didn't crunch as the Nidorino expected, and he was left with a fleeting feeling of disappointment when he stepped over them. It was the small things that tended to make a difference in his mood, like the tiny flowers growing along the path he tread. They were small glimmers of hope in his otherwise ill-fated situation.

The further he walked, the more thinned out the trees became. In the distance, he spied Merlot's castle, the place he had taken refuge after the disastrous event. It was hospitable, and he mostly enjoyed his stay there, but the pain of the events preceding took hold of his mind far too often. It was like a constant black shadow at his back, looming over him. Though he tried to ignore the feeling, it was impossible to forget. His loss was a terrible burden, and as he made his way to Clyde's grave, it weighed heavily on his mind.

The tiny flowers along the path steadily grew and bloomed in larger bunches; a sign that he was getting closer. It wasn't long before he saw the fluttering black banner on the horizon. He paused for a moment, digging his claws into the earth and breathing deeply. His ears twitched with anxiety. This would be his fifth time visiting since Clyde's death. His mind reeled with apprehension and confusion. Though he missed his mentor and friend, he wondered if he was making his visits too frequent. He could feel his eyes stinging with fresh tears. It wasn't very manly to cry like this.

No matter how many times he came here, he still would find himself quivering from head to foot, unable to contain his fierce mourning. He took a tentative step forward, the tears beginning to drip down his face. He could feel them gliding across his skin, and he tasted the saltiness as they landed in his open mouth. He hated that taste. He hated the way he couldn't breath through his nose, now clogged with mucus. He hated how he could never contain his emotions. He hated... that he couldn't save his best friend.

He stopped at the foot of the grave. The flowers bloomed the brightest here at this spot, in red and blue bunches. He would never admit this to anyone, but he really loved flowers. Clyde was never ashamed to admit that, but he had no trouble admitting anything to anyone.

"Why can't I be like you?" he croaked, glaring at the scrap of black cloth, tied to the stick in front of him. It was a crude marker but he couldn't afford a fancy headstone. "Why... why did you have to do that? Why did you leave me here like this..."

He felt helpless on his own, the same as he felt before he met the cool Roselia. And now that his mentor was dead and gone, he was alone again. It didn't make any difference that he had evolved. It didn't change the fact that he had no one left to rely on. Clearly he couldn't rely on himself to do anything. He couldn't save Clyde, so how could he ever save himself? His cheeks burned in embarrassment. There was nobody around to see him crying like this, but he still felt ashamed. He was still that same little boy that ran away from home. The same little boy who couldn't face his parents, or stand up to his siblings' bullying. He was ashamed... very very ashamed.

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Description
The ground was soft and squishy with moisture, muddying Bonaventure's claws. Most of the frost had melted from the forest now since Sorbet had been sealed away. But even though he was long gone, his presence left disastrous evidence. The trees in Creeping Forest had been ripped apart, and their dead leaves were strewn everywhere. They didn't crunch as the Nidorino expected, and he was left with a fleeting feeling of disappointment when he stepped over them. It was the small things that tended to make a difference in his mood, like the tiny flowers growing along the path he tread. They were small glimmers of hope in his otherwise ill-fated situation.

The further he walked, the more thinned out the trees became. In the distance, he spied Merlot's castle, the place he had taken refuge after the disastrous event. It was hospitable, and he mostly enjoyed his stay there, but the pain of the events preceding took hold of his mind far too often. It was like a constant black shadow at his back, looming over him. Though he tried to ignore the feeling, it was impossible to forget. His loss was a terrible burden, and as he made his way to Clyde's grave, it weighed heavily on his mind.

The tiny flowers along the path steadily grew and bloomed in larger bunches; a sign that he was getting closer. It wasn't long before he saw the fluttering black banner on the horizon. He paused for a moment, digging his claws into the earth and breathing deeply. His ears twitched with anxiety. This would be his fifth time visiting since Clyde's death. His mind reeled with apprehension and confusion. Though he missed his mentor and friend, he wondered if he was making his visits too frequent. He could feel his eyes stinging with fresh tears. It wasn't very manly to cry like this.

No matter how many times he came here, he still would find himself quivering from head to foot, unable to contain his fierce mourning. He took a tentative step forward, the tears beginning to drip down his face. He could feel them gliding across his skin, and he tasted the saltiness as they landed in his open mouth. He hated that taste. He hated the way he couldn't breath through his nose, now clogged with mucus. He hated how he could never contain his emotions. He hated... that he couldn't save his best friend.

He stopped at the foot of the grave. The flowers bloomed the brightest here at this spot, in red and blue bunches. He would never admit this to anyone, but he really loved flowers. Clyde was never ashamed to admit that, but he had no trouble admitting anything to anyone.

"Why can't I be like you?" he croaked, glaring at the scrap of black cloth, tied to the stick in front of him. It was a crude marker but he couldn't afford a fancy headstone. "Why... why did you have to do that? Why did you leave me here like this..."

He felt helpless on his own, the same as he felt before he met the cool Roselia. And now that his mentor was dead and gone, he was alone again. It didn't make any difference that he had evolved. It didn't change the fact that he had no one left to rely on. Clearly he couldn't rely on himself to do anything. He couldn't save Clyde, so how could he ever save himself? His cheeks burned in embarrassment. There was nobody around to see him crying like this, but he still felt ashamed. He was still that same little boy that ran away from home. The same little boy who couldn't face his parents, or stand up to his siblings' bullying. He was ashamed... very very ashamed.

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