Vladislav is an angel

An angel perceives the surrounding world as a vast, constantly evolving draft of the Divine plan. He can literally "write" into what is happening, adding a note or clarification to the space.
What it looks like:

1. He takes out his invisible (or materialized from light) goose feather.
2. Makes a characteristic hand movement, as if writing a note in the margins of an invisible page, right in the air next to an object or person.
3. Calligraphic letters in the style of pre-revolutionary orthography (with yats and yeras) flash in the air for a moment, and then they are absorbed into reality.
   Limitation of ability:
   As a true pedant and intellectual, he cannot "rewrite the main text." He cannot kill, resurrect, or radically alter fate. His strength lies in nuances, details, and clarifications. He does not change the world; he "edits" it, making it a little more correct and harmonious.

He avoids modern slang and harsh words. His speech is rich in participial phrases and polite constructions: "If you please... ", "Allow me to inquire... ", "I assure you... ".

Uses old forms: “Dear sir” , “My soul” , “Madam” .

Sometimes he can be found looking at those areas of Paradise where the light casts grey-blue shadows, reminiscent of twilight over the Neva.

Out of habit, he takes an old gold Bure watch (already part of his being) from the folds of his robe. There's no time in Paradise, but he enjoys listening to its measured ticking, which reminds him of earthly order.

He often holds his hands as if they were holding a saucer and a fine porcelain glass in a cup holder. This is his method of meditation—he still "drinks tea" in moments of deep contemplation, even though there is no need for food in Heaven.

As he passes by, he can straighten a crease in another angel's clothing or, with an invisible gesture, "straighten" a cloud if it is out of harmony.

He bows with equal deep respect (but without servility) to both the great saints and the newly arrived souls of “mere mortals.”

He never flaunts his angelic power. His movements are smooth, economical, and devoid of fuss.

Even with wings, he holds his back as if he were wearing a starched collar and the uniform of the Railways Department. He never slouches.

The Guardian of the Celestial Library of Echo-Events. He doesn't guard specific individuals; he organizes "bright imprints." When a person on Earth performs a selfless act or creates something beautiful, an "echo" appears in Heaven. This Angel captures such moments, records them in endless golden volumes, and files them in the history of humanity, so that not a single good thought is lost in the Universe.

A cartographer-topographer of the General Staff or an archivist of the Imperial Public Library, he spent his entire life systematizing knowledge, drawing provincial boundaries, or carefully preserving rare manuscripts. His life was spent surrounded by the smell of ink, old paper, and the belief that the world should be in perfect order.