Oscar Allowed Fyodor To Enter First; Holding The Door Open For Him Before Slipping Inside.

Oscar allowed Fyodor to enter first; holding the door open for him before slipping inside.

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 promise that your...request will be honored. Worry not.” He glanced at Katya, humming softly. “....How old is she? And for how long has she been learning English?”

“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.”

“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.”

“That is true. Yet... A small part of me can't help but feel sympathetic. Perhaps pity would be a better word for what I feel.” He let out a quiet chuckle. “...He is doomed from this point forward, no choice but to keep following that path.”

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.."

“Agreed. Quite a tragic painting too, wouldn't you agree?” he hummed, his hands behind his back as he glanced at it. “..His wings are broken; symbolizing the loss of his power, his gaze is filled with anguish and anger at his punishment.”

He paused before continuing. “..Perhaps it is tragic in a way because the angel here still hasn't become the embodiment of sin he became more known as.”

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.."