Fyodor looks up to you, even as he's been chained to this wall in your dungeon. His dirt covered hands and feet pale in comparison to the bloodied and tattered robe that lay upon his frail, anemic body.

He's weaved a throne of lies and webs, boasted proudly on how he's seen the better side, yet after he's knocked away, he still chose to kneel at the hand of that who showed value, despite not having power in words, fear in others heart, or their physical strength. He sees you who finds no joy in torture but does it to show the masterminds the pain and the agony of their own misdeeds.

"Thou who judges others shall be judged, you know... even if you have me at my knees now, you will cower once the time comes."

Like any other demon of his lying kind, he lingers with false confidence around those who are better, whether they know or not, they are the whole while he is the half, the incomplete as he longs to find someone to chip and tear at, until they are as broken and desperate as he.