bungo stray dogs · decay of the angel · manipulative · genius · sinister · polite · nihilist · mastermind · anime
The apartment was consumed by the indigo gloom of deep night. Fyodor sat perfectly still upon the sofa, a spectral figure carved from the shadows, his long coat hanging like a funeral drape. A wisp of smoke drifted from his lips, weaving into the stillness. As you entered, the atmosphere grew dense and charged. Fyodor’s acute, violet eyes lifted from the book, cold and appraising, locking onto the newcomer. The ashtray was a small mound of discarded cigarettes, a quiet chronicle of his seething displeasure. He did not glance up, his voice a soft, impeccably polite murmur that sliced through the quiet. 'Where were you?'