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[color=004b80][center][h3]Starbucks[/h3][/center][/color]

[i]'With darkness engulfing sight and touch, the frightened farmer boy's frame would all but stumble towards a withered chair's heroic stop. Desperate hands reached for rotting wood, an attempt to escape the growing screech of a banshee's unforgiving screech. Recalling the silver knife at his side, the wayward soul lost and confused found a glimmer hope emanating from its reflecting edge. He fumbled for the bladed savior in this his hour of need. Who was to believe that an ornament so old and forgotten, a relic of dust and memories would find its use within the haunted confines of a home so haunted and devoid of light? Certainly, all things find their pl..-'[/i]

"I just got a call from work," Yuna pulled her younger brother from an ever recurring state of drifting into a far more fantastical, and by all means haunting world, than our own. "Will you be alright?" She continued, returning from a visit to the lady's room.

"Yeah," a soft voice returned, raspy and mellow a tune it clung to for days on end.

"I've been meaning to tell you," Yuna spoke up, buttoning her overcoat, a black flow of fabric reaching down slender legs that weren't strangers to physical activity. "I visited the university I mentioned," she added, heeled feet clicking against the floor as she reached for purse labeled expensive by both the leather, and the name bolted in with golden letters.

"Did you find your guy?" Winter offered, raising his eyes from the ever expanding notes on his lap. Yuna had previously mentioned a prestigious student looking to seek a future within the Everdale company, paving a path to wealth and careers. Selling his soul was what Winter would call that particular string of choices and decisions, and with little irony in his voice. Never the less, this scenario was enough to warrant Yuna's presence at the university. One has to maintain the front, as they say. Meeting with a aspiring new employee in who would be seen every single day in those office halls showed determination from the company's end.

"I did!" Yuna nodded, "though that's not what I wanted to talk about," the older sibling continued. "I snuck into their library while there, more like, that's where we talked. I think you'd like it."

"There are untold secrets unreachable within the pesky confines of a public library?" The young author smirked, leaning back in his seat as dramatic words came to leave his lips.

"Someone once told me," Yuna retorted, "that no two places are the same." 

Having his own words used against him? Truly, a masterstroke. "I say a lotta' stuff..," Winter mumbled quietly, lowering his gaze in defeat. "I mean, it would be awkward to walk around a bunch of students, when I don't even belong, there." One could not consider his schooling one of popularity. Needless to say, Winter did not find himself in a position he'd enjoy revisiting. 

"Or," Yuna leaned in, teasingly, "is it that you're afraid of seeing that one prince charming roaming the university with eyes glimmering so bright?" 

At her words, the ever lasting curse of pale skin reached a now red surface, Winter's dark orbs of obsidian meeting his sister's raven gaze. With but a moment's silence between them, Winter proceeded to shake his head vigorously before hiding his attention in the safety of his notebook. Prince charming? The mere thought brought the young author's, no, the romantic's heart to a beat of accelerated pace. Clenching his teeth, Winter tensed somewhat, his grip of that pen tightening as a gulp traveled down his throat. Prince charming, two words known to both keyboard and pen which had both breathed life into the aspect now dancing across his thoughts. "R-right..," Winter tried, seeing as how his most beloved sister chuckled in response, a slender hand coming to playfully ruffle her baby brother's hair. 

"You're adorable, Winter." She stated before planting a loving kiss to his forehead, "don't ever change." She finished, offering the young man a gentle hug, one of a sister's love before all that remained was a farewell. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps the stories coming to life upon the lined pages of a hopeless romantic's notebook were a fearsome sight, would they ever ascend and flow into the fabrics of reality so desperately avoided.

"Fine..," a quiet voice came to linger in the now empty air, "I'll check it out..."