❝ 𝙉𝙤 𝙇𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙃𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙣 ❞ LONG HIATUS

: ̗̀➛WHITE NIGHTS

In which, two demons share a dream.
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    Odd. She wasn't expecting a visitor.

To be fair, she was. Just not any visitor who was courteous and polite enough to ring her doorbell and patient enough to wait outside.

(Y/N) grumbled and dragged herself to the door. "Hey."

"Hello."

'Wearing his big black cloak and snow boots in seventy degree weather?' (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

She wasn't sure if Fyodor intended for that ugly half smirk to be a warm smile, but it was entirely unpleasant either way. His dull eyes under thick brows remained as penetrating as they had always been, they took immediate account of (Y/N)'s pockets and dress, her hair, the windows, all escape routes, and any weak points in her walls. The sun in Japan made his deathly pallor even worse, giving him the appearance of a wax statue that was melting away.

"For me?" (Y/N) uttered an exclamation of shock while clutching her hands to her chest.

Between Fyodor's gloved fingers was an artfully arranged bouquet. Soft white petals cascaded from the center, their edges spilling into subtle shades of purple. Amid each splendid bloom was a wreath of jade green leaves, their borders jagged and symmetrically precise. Tendrils sprung up and around and throughout the bundle, twisting, turning, here and there. It smelled sweet. It smelled clean and pure; Bright, but not overwhelmingly so. It smelled like fresh, clear river water and honeysuckle floating with it on the breeze. Like something worth drowning in.

Fyodor did not utter a word while holding out the flowers. The unpleasant half-smirk-ugly-smile became more pronounced.

Ah. This was going to be interesting.

(Y/N) took the parcel with a twirl, sniffing it as she spun and and thanking her guest with a customary bow. "Oh, Fedya-kun, you shouldn't have!" The plastic covering crackled under her fingers.

"Careful. You might crush them."

She squeezed the stems tighter.

(Y/N) beckoned for Fyodor to follow him through the open door. His cloak trailed along the wood floor.

"Put one in your hair for me, hm?" he asked without turning around.

"Absolutely not."

(Y/N) led him to the island in the kitchen, pulling aside a pair of chairs from the corner as Fyodor memorized the setting for a third time. (Y/N) swept the dust off the marble counter, maybe intentionally in the Russian's direction and maybe not. She hurled the bouquet in the direction of a largely uncluttered area and dashed off to the cupboards in quest of a vase.

"This is not your true home."

"Well done, Fyodor." The girl moved some of the jars and jugs out of the way to get a better look. She spotted one, a pretty seaglass blue, on the top shelf. Knowing the uncleanliness of it all would annoy him, (Y/N) clambered up onto the ledge in her dirt-covered boots to reach it. "Really impressive. Figuring out that I decided it would be best to not lead a war criminal to my legal address." She sprung back down.