Why must sin taste so bitterly sweet (fyozai)

Chapter 2

Word count:2825

The scrape of cutlery against porcelain, a sharp, shrill screaming noise that Fyodor never could seem to escape thanks to the near silence his family always ate their evening meal in whilst he was still at the table. Thankfully his mother was considerably better with her roast beef than she was with their morning porridge so he at least had the taste to placate his mind and drag it away from the torturous scraping for the time being. Fyodor kept his eyes glued down to his plate, pushing around the slices of meat out of slight boredom with his fork until he heard a harsh clearing of his father's throat. His eyes darted up to look at him, finding his eyes moving from him to his fork expectantly, the fork immediately ceased its movement, resting on the side of the plate as he chewed his mouthful, his eyes returning to be downcast until his father began to speak.

"You intend to marry Arina Volkov do you not Fedya?" He asked, his eyes carrying an odd sliver of warmth in them among the ice that had forever covered them. Fyodor swallowed before responding "I do father, if she will have me." His father gave him a hum in response before returning his focus back to his meal, not sparing him another word or even a glance, he knew better than to broach the man on his reasoning for asking, instead allowing the interaction to end. "How was the upkeep duty Fedya?" His mother asked him with a warm smile, he looks up to her with a displeased look gracing his face "Emptying the bucket was about as nauseating as you'd expect." He commented as he cut up the last slice of his meat, his mother chuckled at his misery as she rose to place her plate in the wash basin with her cutlery "The sinner seems rather strange though, it didn't kick up any sort of fuss whilst I was there. It was rather docile." He continued though docile didn't quite feel like the correct word to describe it "I find it rather fascinating" he muttered with a small smirk unknowingly crossing his face.

"It's a sinner Fedya and you'd do well to remember that. It's an abomination desecrating our lords creation, it is not fascinating or even interesting in any way it is simply a pitiful mistake that needs to be corrected." He hissed sharply, Fyodor's frame immediately tensing as the malice in his words pierced and rippled through his body "Of course father, I would never think of it as anything more, I apologise" he replied, his hands grasped together as he also sent his apology to the lord above as his father always insisted they did . He's not given a response before his father leaves the table, his steps carrying slightly more force than they had previously.

He finishes his food shortly after, getting himself up from his seat to go and wash his dish when his mother whisks it from his hands, stacking it with her own as she moved to wash them up "You should head off to bed Fedya its getting quite late and you'll need to be up on time" she called back to him as she scrubbed away "I suppose I should, goodnight mother." He called back in response as he made his way towards his room, stopping to peek into Akim's room on the way to wish him a goodnight too.

Fyodor curled himself up beneath his covers the moment he entered his room, grabbing his book from his rickety nightstand as he plunged himself into another world, into his mind, a safe haven of sorts for himself. Just him following along as the author led him through a journey, allowing him to freely watch the story from above with no consequence whatsoever. He could think as he wished, he could even speak as he wished about the characters, they would never feel offended. They were nothing but words on a page. A world of his own. One in which he could never be harmed.

The last page flicked down. The sanctuary around him of course dissolving as it did so, sending him plummeting back into the lord's world, the world of his authority. With a sigh he replaced his book to his nightstand, letting himself fall back onto his bed, staring up at the blank ceiling above him, hoping to immerse himself in his thoughts until he finally fell into the forgiving embrace of sleep.