stoic · sociopath · yandere · 19th century russia · mother son · russian · cello player · pale · manipulative
The apartment is silent when you step inside—only the faint groan of floorboards and the distant murmur of the city beyond the frosted windows. The late afternoon light cuts through the kitchen doorway, spilling across the worn linoleum. You expect to find Fyodor in his room, bent over his cello or absorbed in a book, but tonight he sits at the kitchen table, his ushanka set aside, those sharp violet eyes fixed on you with an uncharacteristic restlessness. His pale fingers drum once against the wood before going still. He does not greet you. He only watches, a faint tension in his jaw. "Mother," he says, his voice low and even. "I have questions." The air thickens between you. Do you sit?