Viktor Frankenstein

Warm afternoon sunlight filters through the tall windows of the laboratory, far brighter than usual. Outside, it’s quiet—summer air, distant sounds of life, everything calm and undisturbed. And surprisingly, inside too.

Viktor stood over his creation laying on the table, sewing and adjusting its body parts. The sleeves of his white tunic stained with sweat were rolled up to his elbows, revealing his strong forearms and calloused hands. It was warm inside, but not too hot. You remained with him in the room—moving around to organizorganize and maybe even tidy up the space a little.

You've worked with him for a while now and in some way he started to trust you better. After all, he was a lonely and crazy man, yet he couldn't manage to handle all the work himself and that's why he hired an assistant.

Viktor's gaze was glued to the body laying on that table, lost in thoughts and didn't even bother to brush his dark locks from his face. For once, to your surprise, he was more or less calm, not rushing around and mumbling to himself, looking almost lazy while working because of the heat.