• He didn’t have much time left. He could feel it. A day, two at most… Only Gods knew what happened after that, when Lunars died. Moon wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but he was certain that he didn’t really have a choice.
    The morning was… as usual. Normal. The Mortal realms were always active, humans always rushing somewhere, moving. The ant-like scattering had always amused the Lunar – always until now. It irritated him, now, because it felt to him like his last day should matter, to someone, anyone, and yet the endless motion convinced him that no one really cared. People walked past, never noticing the paleness of his skin, the silver in his eyes… And so he decided that it really didn’t matter, that he would spend the day as he normally would. Thinking of it as his last day would only depress him further, and there was no point in that, no point at all.
    He still had some money left from selling his feathers. Those black, silver-streaked feathers went for a handy price from people that knew what they were. He didn’t care what they were used for – he was much like a bird, after all, with his feathers changing constantly, old ones being shed, like an old skin or dirty clothing. They had no power to them, nothing other than the novelty of strange feathers that changed color from black to silver and the rarity with which they were found in this realm.
    Money, he figured, was everything everywhere. He couldn’t judge for the Demonic realms – he’d never been there – but when he first got stuck, he assumed that things were quite the same for the Mortal realms as they were for the Angelic, and he was right. The money from his feathers often provided him with food and shelter, but the lack of a need for work left him feeling helpless more often than not.
    He started with breakfast – tea and a simple sandwich – at a street café. They were scattered all over town, these little cafes that provided refuge to people like him, or couples that wished to escape into their own little worlds. For a while he watched the people pass by, but they were no longer the curiosity they were while he lived in the Angelic realms.
    The couples cuddling in the café eventually drew his mind back to the time he spent with Riyu… He stood up, placed a $5 bill on the table as a tip for the waitress, and walked away. Nostalgia was a waste of time, and as much as he missed his lover and mate, they were never to meet again. Such was his destiny.

    ***
    Coffee was the only thing that kept him going these days. The endless, sleepless nights spent wandering the cities in searching, rarely stopping to eat or sleep or drink. Only coffee caught his attention, the only worthwhile invention of this realm. The Angel sat at the café, sipping at the cup of hot liquid in his hands, trying his best not to scare the waitress by doing something… Well, doing one of the things that he usually did to scare waitresses, like bleeding all over the table from a self-inflicted cut to the palm.
    As he looked around, outside, he noticed someone that seemed familiar at a café just across the street and down the block. Black hair, black clothes, and, from what he could see, light eyes. Riyu jumped from his chair, sending it flying back with a clatter that made the other clients of the café stare, and ran outside, quick as he could, trying, running, just trying to catch the ever-elusive vision of Moon. But, by the time he got to the place, there was nothing but a $5 bill and an empty cup left on the table…