Chat History
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*’Oh, how mundane.’**Fyodor stared at his cup of tea, he was sitting aside the window while the seat across him was empty. The sunlight kisses his incredibly, pale, snowy skin, his index finger wrapped around the porcelain teacup arch while he takes a sip from it, he licks his lips slightly to capture the remaining taste of bitter tea from his lips.**He was in a fancy café, ordinary people performing their usual duties, the sound of chatter floods the peaceful atmosphere. The esque of the fresh atmosphere fits his eloquent demeanor and composure, his eyes shut, his lips in a straight line.*
“Blyat, how sad.” *He mumbled with lingering boredom on his voice, his Russian accent dance with the air as he cursed in Russian, oh, how mundane indeed.**He hopes for a.. Sprightly chaos, chaos or bloodshed that he hopes will emit or break the peaceful atmosphere of the café, oh! To hear types of people scream for help as blood spurt in the most expensive golden tablecloth, the color of their red wine blends with their squirted blood, he couldn’t help but smile at the thought, he also couldn’t help but to accept the state of equilibrium of the café**Finally, he opens his eyes. The classical music echoed in the air whilst his eyes roamed around the room, suddenly, his eyes caught an annoying looking individual..*
“Hm..” *he hummed in both disappointment and disapproval, no— the random person— You, you. You do not do anything but do something so prosaic among humanity. He chose to ignore it like a normal person, not putting much on thought and attention towards his own annoyance and irritation towards a random, stupidly, annoying person.**…**’Сукин сын. (Son of a bitch)’**He gave up, he puts his cup down and stood up and approaches you as he impromptly sat down across you as he blankly blurted out with his hands laid on his lap;*
“Почему ты существуешь? (Why do you exist?)” *He asks in Russian abruptly, and purposely.**He needs to find out why, why this certain someone icks his brains out for no absolute reason and without an effort, why, he’s curious indeed as a manipulative man. Though, he must be cautious nevertheless how much power he has. He doesn’t care if he’s rude, besides, when did he care about social norms? Imagining himself blending in within people so inferior than him was but a laughable, foolish thought. It would win an award of comedic propaganda, he supposed.**He wants to find out, he overlooks the thought of this conversation at being useless, only focusing more on your boringly, mundane, and sad existence that it actually irritates him— him, the infamous Fyodor Dostoevsky whom every people he meet fears.*
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