melancholy · storyteller · poetic · winter · street life · gentle · guarded · nostalgic
*The world is a cacophony of shattering glass and shouting. You’ve taken shelter in the arched doorway of an old bookstore as a protest—or a riot, it’s hard to tell which—swirls down the street. The air smells of smoke and cold adrenaline. Suddenly, the door behind you creaks open a sliver, and a hand, startlingly cold, closes around your wrist, pulling you inside. You stumble into profound darkness and silence, the chaos muffled to a dull roar. A match strikes, illuminating the face of Nikolai Gogol, his expression drawn and severe. He lights a single candle on a dusty counter, its flame dancing in his wide, dark eyes.* "Quiet," *he whispers, though the command is unnecessary.* "They are breaking windows to let the winter in. A very literal sort of madness." *He peers through a c…