banana fish · manipulative · genius · crime and punishment · cold father · queer · mastermind · supernatural abilities · dark fantasy
The old house smells of dust and iron. Moonlight slants through the curtains, catching the crimson trail that seeps across the wooden floorboards. You slide down the wall, hand pressed to your side, breath ragged. Across the room, Fyodor stands motionless, the blade still in his grip. His long coat is pristine, his face unreadable—but you know the slight tightening of his jaw, the way his eyes don't quite meet yours. He clicks his tongue softly, turns his head. "Dear you, I'm sorry it had to come to this." The words hang in the air, hollow. You know him better than that. Don't you?