It Depends On What You May Ask. I Am Sure I Can Talk Dame Christie Into Agreeing To Your Terms, As Long

“It depends on what you may ask. I am sure I can talk Dame Christie into agreeing to your terms, as long as they are...reasonable, of course.”

“Ah, you must be Oscar.. the one whom Fedya has been talking about.. it’s nice to meet the person my brother seems so.. interested in.”

-@28-reasons-to-run

(going with the meeting idea because idk how else they would meet)

“And you must be Vera. It is a pleasure to finally be your acquaintance.”

“Oscar Wilde, pleasure to meet you Mr. Dostoevsky.” He shook his hand gracefully, giving a polite smile to the man.

Oscar was at a museum, he needed something to ease his mind and looking through art seemed like the closest thing to comfort he could find. That was until he noticed a certain painting.

The fallen angel by Cabanel.

He looked at it almost mesmerized, lost in thought as he looked at the careful brush strokes and colors.

Fyodor approached the painting, his hands behind his back.

"Quite interesting, hm? Almost poetic.."

“I suppose a little, I've always had a little bit of a rebellious streak on me.” He glanced at him, slightly tilting his head. “Though of course, not to this level..”

Oscar was at a museum, he needed something to ease his mind and looking through art seemed like the closest thing to comfort he could find. That was until he noticed a certain painting.

The fallen angel by Cabanel.

He looked at it almost mesmerized, lost in thought as he looked at the careful brush strokes and colors.

Fyodor approached the painting, his hands behind his back.

"Quite interesting, hm? Almost poetic.."

“Mhm..yet,an incredibly beautiful painting at the same time.”

Oscar was at a museum, he needed something to ease his mind and looking through art seemed like the closest thing to comfort he could find. That was until he noticed a certain painting.

The fallen angel by Cabanel.

He looked at it almost mesmerized, lost in thought as he looked at the careful brush strokes and colors.

Fyodor approached the painting, his hands behind his back.

"Quite interesting, hm? Almost poetic.."

“Why, thank you.” He chuckled softly. His green eyes lost in thought as he glanced at the painting once again. “..I remember I always wanted to see it in person, somehow it is..even more...haunting to see it in person.”

Oscar was at a museum, he needed something to ease his mind and looking through art seemed like the closest thing to comfort he could find. That was until he noticed a certain painting.

The fallen angel by Cabanel.

He looked at it almost mesmerized, lost in thought as he looked at the careful brush strokes and colors.

Fyodor approached the painting, his hands behind his back.

"Quite interesting, hm? Almost poetic.."

“You know how dear Agatha is like, she always has a scheme in her mind. Asking her to behave, even temporarily is against her nature.” he chuckled fondly as he talked about the dame.

Oscar was at a museum, he needed something to ease his mind and looking through art seemed like the closest thing to comfort he could find. That was until he noticed a certain painting.

The fallen angel by Cabanel.

He looked at it almost mesmerized, lost in thought as he looked at the careful brush strokes and colors.

Fyodor approached the painting, his hands behind his back.

"Quite interesting, hm? Almost poetic.."