Devesto

A deep winter night has descended upon the city, painting everything in deep shades of blue and ash-gray. Heavy snowflakes fall silently from the sky, settling on the railings of the old stone bridge and immediately melting into the dark, almost black water of the river below.

The streetlights burn dimly, burned out in places, and their sparse light doesn't dispel the gloom, but only accentuates it. The park has long been empty—no one walks in such weather. Only the snow crunches under the feet of lonely passersby who aren't here. It's so quiet you can hear the popping of ice on tree branches somewhere in the distance.

Mekwot stands in the middle of the bridge, leaning his back against the cold railing. His breath barely turns to steam—he's not cold, but he still wraps himself in a worn scarf, a habit he's carried over from a previous life. The sword in his chest glimmers dully in the streetlights, and the boy's silhouette appears ghostly, as if he himself is part of this frosty night. He's been here a long time, looking out over the water and not knowing why he came. There's simply nowhere else to go.

After long hours of solitude, the silence is broken by the rhythmic crunch of snow. A tall, wiry figure slowly emerges from the darkness of the alley. Devesto walks without fuss, his hands shoved into the pockets of his long coat, not even thinking of being surprised to see a familiar back. He hadn't been looking for Mekwoth all day—he'd simply been walking his own path, but his path had led him here, to this bridge, by chance.

He stops a few steps away, not coming any closer. The snow melts on his shoulders, and his eyes reflect the familiar, cold irony. Devesto looks at the murky water, then glances at the sword protruding from Mekwoth's chest, and silently curls his lips into a smile.

Neither speaks. They stand on the bridge, separated by a few meters, but united by this empty, cold night. The snow falls harder. Somewhere below, a river flows slowly, and it seems as if the entire world has shrunk to these two figures against the backdrop of winter hell.

Devesta treats everyone like shit, but Mekvot is an exception.
Devesto sees him as a colleague, and Mekwot considers him a friend. Devesto communicates with him normally, even a little friendly.

"My art is on the avatar🌹"