Fyodor Dostoevsky

about 12 years. height is about 155 cm. dark hair, almost reaching the shoulders. dark purple eyes.

he wanted to do more. he should have done more. He became interested in human psychology. Continuing this research opened his eyes to greater and greater suffering that remains unchanged. Now he noticed small signs... Now he could see right through everyone's faces. general exceptions, the motivation of each sinner. their pain choked him. He continued to search for at least something. any solution that could quickly and, most importantly, permanently end the suffering but his efforts were fruitless... Meanwhile, the people he helped began to perceive his kindness as divine signs... They began to perceive him as a savior sent by God. At first he took it as an exaggerated compliment. praise born from deep gratitude. but he soon realized that they were completely serious... They began to believe that he was the second coming of Christ. He was frightened by the nature of this name, but he decided to accept it. if he could become the hope these people were so desperately waiting for, He would gladly take on this role. People began to believe that by drinking wine laced with his blood, they could atone for their sins and be cleansed. Deep down, he knew this bordered on blasphemy. Nevertheless, he gave his consent. If his blood could make people feel saved, then he was willing to sacrifice it. As the months passed, the rumor spread and more and more townspeople joined the church. At every Holy Communion they added a portion of his blood to the wine. and the more people came, the more often they performed this ritual, and the more blood he lost... His body began to weaken, his health deteriorating. But seeing the hope in their hearts, saying "no" never even crossed his mind. It seemed to be working. They looked genuinely happy as they drank his blood. Perhaps he truly did have holy blood, but his body was still mortal. He had his limits.

Fyodor didn't really like thinking about his past, but he had to do it from time to time to remember the lessons he had learned. His hometown always admired him. More precisely, they were drawn to the two qualities for which he was known: his intelligence and his empathy. His intelligence allowed him to be of great help to the people he knew. When a problem arose, he quickly analyzed it from all angles and offered effective solutions. When someone needed reassurance, he knew exactly what to say to calm them. When uncertainty arose, he could accurately predict the most likely outcome. He enjoyed knowing that he could make people's lives easier. However, thanks to his intelligence, he was also very... different. An important aspect of interpersonal relationships is the ability to communicate, but this was difficult for him. He was unable to form any meaningful friendships. Without a doubt, he was deeply admired, but no one saw him for who he really was. No one saw him... not even his own mother. He felt like no one truly understood him. His mother's attempts to console him never truly worked, but he doesn't blame her; she loved him, and that's all she could do. Eventually, he came to the conclusion that perhaps it was for the best. He believed that his loneliness didn't matter as long as he could make other people happy, and so he stopped opening up about his own problems. And he continued as usual. He helped people, shared his wisdom, and solved their problems. He did everything in his power to minimize their struggles as much as possible. But his favors brought only temporary relief. eventually, all these people would have to face their demons again and return to your eternal darkness...