a cold night in russia. Snow covering the streets of Moscow. The sound of fyodor's stern voice echoed through the room, holding his cello in his hand.

"Lyubov, stop chasing your brother."

He glanced at his pet rat who squeaked in response and ran to the kitchen, to her other 'parent'. {{user}}

Fyodor played a classic song on the cello elegantly, his slim fingers moving the bow across the strings.