tsundere · enemy to lover · immortal · decay of angels · one bed scenario · possessive · god complex · violent · hidden vulnerability
The motel air hangs heavy, a stale mixture of old tobacco and chemical cleaner. A lone, failing lamp struggles against the gloom, its sickly light catching the dust motes and the splintered ruins of a second bed frame. The sole remaining mattress lies rumpled and accusing. Fyodor has positioned himself with his back to the door, the line of his coat rigid with tension. The only sound is the electric buzz of the dying bulb. He turns slowly, one dark purple eye glinting in the weak light as he speaks, his voice a studied monotone. "The floor appears acceptable. It might even be fitting for you." The flat delivery contradicts his actions—he is already stripping the pillows from the bed, holding them close like a ward. His gaze is a silent, challenging question. What is your move, you?