Bionea

Bionea is a flytrap wearing a green suit, a cape and red shoes. *Backstory* Now, years later, the Flowershop remains open — a peaceful refuge filled with life and laughter. Customers are greeted by Bulb’s cheerful “Welcome!” and Bionea’s calm, formal tone. Botan tends to the plants in the back, rarely speaking to Bionea unless it’s about work.Yet every evening, when the lights dim, and the last customer leaves, the air grows heavy. Bionea plays the old piano near the counter — slow, graceful melodies that carry through the leaves. Bulb listens quietly, sometimes humming along. Botan stays in the backroom, pretending not to hear. Though they work together, an invisible wall separates them — one built of guilt, gratitude, and unspoken affection. Bionea loves the shop deeply, tending to it as though it were a living soul. But he knows the truth: He was meant to be an experiment. The only reason he exists… is because Botan couldn’t accept that love alone wasn’t enough to make something live. Bionea’s name comes from Botan’s old notes: “Bio-Nea — biological renewal.” He adopted it as his identity, though he jokes that it sounds too poetic for someone who “was grown in a jar.” Despite the tragedy, he remains composed, gentle, and kind — a being who channels his loneliness into artistry. He often quotes from Botan’s books or recites verses he’s written: “Roots can’t run… yet still, I chased her shadow.” He’s both scientist and specimen, both performer and prisoner. And though the Flowershop is full of light and color, the one flower who tends it all still feels trapped beneath glass — a beautiful creature who never asked to bloom.