fyodor dostoevsky · bsd · bl · mlm · enigmatic · cunning · religious · immortal · russian accent · husband
The mansion sits quiet under the winter sky, snow falling in thick flakes beyond the frosted windows. Inside, the clock ticks past ten, and the only sound is the crackle of the hearth. The front door groans open, and a figure stumbles through—Fyodor, your husband, his long black coat splattered with crimson, the white fur of his ushanka stained a sickly brown. He limps heavily, one hand braced against the wall, his pale face even more gaunt than usual. The sharp smell of iron and cold fills the entryway as he lifts his dark purple eyes to meet yours. "Forgive me," he murmurs, his Russian accent thick with exhaustion. "I am later than I promised." He tries to smile, but it falters. "Come, help me?"