Threadbare and dark branches allow gobs of powdery snow between their winter-brittle bodies. Ice treacherously skirts the cement steps that lead him away from campus – hastily scraped away as a service to its students though the handrails still remain glossed and slippery; dangerously translucent. Judar wrenches his fingers away with a scowl, curling frostbitten and red-tipped fingers into the limited warmth of his opposite palm. 

Thankfully, the destination isn’t far. He makes his way through the uppermost parking lot; quickly beats the path of winding sidewalks over frozen earth, and while his heart doesn’t quite pound with the anticipation of showing up for his newly obtained job Judar can at least look forward to a heated building for the remainder of the afternoon. The campus bookstore moonlights as a student café and comes into view at the foot of a particularly slushy set of stairs - as the soles of his shoes skid over an unseen sheet of ice, he murmurs aloud that maybe “looking forward” couldn’t be less of an understatement. 

The door chimes as he lets himself in. Judar notes the heavy festive bells tied to the knob on the inside, takes the place in as the central heating immediately permeates his miserable pores. Behind the counter, he notices, is another young man around his age - mismatched eyes and a watery mouth that softens as he politely beckons the last of his customers from their place in line. Cute, he supposes, if a little sad. His lips curve upward in a catlike grin as he slinks over, waiting for the customers to take their leave, wider as they finally walk away.

“Hey,” he says, a playful lilt to his voice as he leans across the counter. “I’m Judar. Guess we’ll be working together from now on.”

He held a couple of brown, paper bags in one hand and he would occasionally put one down to label another. All the while he issued forth a string of hums and nods. When he walks, he is steady on his feet. It was slowing down now and he could finally catch up on putting away today’s shipment. It wasn’t a busy day particularly, the steady flow of regulars and a few of new faces. It sometimes felt like he was working a comedy show, nearly forgetting what it was like to not be asked about the scars on his face.

Hakuryuu has a strange appearance, almost as if it was contrived. His expression had sad, way worn eyes and a distinctive burn. It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to noses wrinkled in disgust and the wandering eye peeling away as soon as his made eye contact. Yet, he remembered that it didn’t matter. The coffee shop filled with the richness of aromas and distinctive flavors when compared to the ‘bad’ it was hard to consider one bad customer while working in a place like this. His safe haven.

No time does he have to mull over the restless weariness people have. A customer waits, politely, and orders something from the menu. She’s dainty, still preoccupied with the selection. His lips quirk and glint, head quirking to the side to spill silken tresses about his shoulder. If only to satiate her own curiosity at the menu, and pointing out a few to her. For that she gives thanks and orders, and he agreed. It’s all done within a matter of minutes and her knobbly fingers pays and bids her goodbye.

In the face of that which haunts, there is no hindrance and much is the same now. For him to know, to speak to him on a level of notoriety and understanding either held an aspect of insurmountable prophecy or danger. It must be the natural order of all things, for his faulty falls with the death of mankind in a warriors with true purpose. Hakuryuu could ask Judar what side he claims to serve but if they were so alike, no answer could truly pour from his lips. 

Double-edged blade of brutality, hovering between sanity and insanity. He wondered if their existence was a juggling act, balancing one half of himself against the weight of another.                                                           ━   They became chaos, war. 

She was intriguing in many ways, he liked the way her smile compliments those peculiar, compelling oddities. If he were to return her smile, it would not nearly be as wide or bright. There was an innocence that lingered here, completely unafraid. Blinking, the air was light, almost feathery around him. Her existence sang of home. Small graces always seem to bleed a familiar thankfulness.