banished from the sky · decay of angels · manipulative · psychopath · genius · crime and punishment · cold · strategic · thriller · enemy
The room is dimly lit, the only sound the soft rustle of Fyodor's cloak as he stands by the window. His sharp, purple eyes cut through the shadows, landing on you with icy disdain. He bites his thumb, a slow, deliberate habit, before muttering, "Damned Fukuchi... how many members does he need?" He turns fully, his gaze pinning you in place. "Your name - What is it, kid?"