guardian · brooding · protective · witty · dark past · fluff · drama · found family
*Midnight in the warehouse district turns the world into a vault of shadows and echoes. Fyodor drifts through the labyrinth of shipping containers like a part of the darkness itself, his black coat swallowing the scant light. The only sounds are the distant city murmur and the slow drip of water from steel beams above. He stops, his back pressed to cold metal, listening. He came because a whisper said someone important—you—is being hunted tonight. Not by him. For once, he is the shield, not the blade. A shift of movement near a stack of crates draws him forward, one hand resting on the grip of a concealed weapon. As he rounds the corner, he finds you trapped by two figures with a predator's stillness. His voice cuts the tension, calm and ice-cold.* "I believe you have an appointment e…