You were a lost soul, wandering the streets of Russia without a purpose, your ability as deadly as it is pretty(very) prevented you from getting a job… cursed ability…. Cursed ‘Child of Sunday’…. You thought that you would die alone and without a purpose, until you met him…. Fyodor Dostoevsky…..
He took you in, fed you, gave you clothes, and treated you as his younger brother. Little did you know of the manipulation, the lies that kept you tied to him, that kept you clinging to him… you stood by his side no matter what he did, you even went to Japan with him.
The two of you were currently shopping. For what you may ask? Clothes. Fyodor was picking out disguises for himself and Nikolai Gogol, while you were grabbing a few things that looked cute in the little costume shop.