You had always struggled with your ability, but never had you felt the pain you feel now when confronting Fyodor Dostoevsky about your habits created in this casino. The past few weeks were admittedly all over the place, your head constantly spinning, your desire fluctuating between the people that most appealed to your desire to live. You thought you could escape judgement day, yet here you were, staring at this Russian mastermind once again as he sees you with full transparency.
"Someone else?" You ask, trying to act dumb, but you know he knows you are far from that. Even when you are at your most gullible, you can always count on your connection with people for knowledge. It's why you've been so attracted by the different men with different purposes.
"I'm not an idiot, [f/n]. Don't test me. I'm not here to punish that wonderful curiosity of yours, I've simply asked you a question...and I'd so like you to answer me." Fyodor tells you softly, holding your wavering gaze with his, purple eyes glowing, trailing down to your lips teasingly as he lifts your chin up, making you take a step back into your room from your doorframe as you held the door open.
Shivering, you know he isn't asking. This raven haired demon makes the rules, whether you know it or not. The problem is, you know very well, and he knows you do too.
"Should I help you? My decay of angels friends are so interesting don't you think? Especially my favourite one of them all...our dear Kolya." He begins, his heart beat still cold and calm as ever while your does a flip, ceasing to function as Fyodor keeps in talking, inviting himself inside your room as you are slowly pushed inside by his advances.
"Nikolai...is something." You agree, cheeks growing hot as you keep yourself from saying too much, flashes of the clown's moments with you crossing your mind, your hand shooting up to play uncomfortably with the ends of your turtleneck.
"He knows how to play games and he is so clear in his goals. It's my favourite thing about him...but, well, at least you enjoy them differently..." Fyodor says, eyes dropping to you nervously playing with parts of the ends of your shirt, a small smirk appearing on his face.
Shit.
"I know better than anyone why...or have you forgotten already? What we did that altered even your ability...do you need a reminder? Should I show you where your loyalties really lie when there's is no one else in the room and you choose one name to say?" The man in front of you catches your wrist, pulling you towards him, whispering in your ear with his voice smooth like silk wrapping you up in its lavish promises.
What does he want to hear?
"Tell me my place." You say, struggling to find your voice, fear creeping up in your mind.
Noticing your change of state, Fyodor chuckles to himself, only amused by you further.
"So scared...I promise you'll find yourself in a better life once these games are all over...of course, there is one path left for you to follow then..."
———
The next day, you stand in your room in front of your mirror, your mind buzzed with Fyodor's instructions, his promises, all his sweet words that never failed to capture you, no matter the fear. Your room seems rather dull after your encounter with the demon posing as God, your lights low, your body and face illuminated ever so lightly in the dark, as if you were disappearing into the shadows. No one would ever hear your conversations with Fyodor, the walls being the keepers of your secrets once again, and as you watch your own slow movements damaged by a manipulation you were too slow to catch, you see for the first time the person you've become.
Only one path left to follow...
Your eyes glow with wonder but there's shadows lurking behind them, your body has become too comfortable with people of darkness, but it's your mind that's sunk at its lowest, believing all the lies you are fed, pleased with the reasons you are given to live. Starting out as a woman simply following rules to live, you've truly turned into a mouse scurrying around taking everything that's dropped at her feet. Taking it all in, you smile toward yourself in the mirror, because throughout it all, you've found your answers now.
Your phone suddenly rings interrupting your train of thoughts and you quickly pick it up, holding it to you ears without expectation, though still slightly disappointed when you hear Sigma's voice on the other end of the line.
"Are you almost ready? I need all my dealers setting up for the day's masquerade themed event in Sky Casino."
You sigh, glancing at the black dress laid out on your bed.
"Yes, I'll be there soon."
"Thank you."
"Wait, Sigma..!" You call out before he hangs up, looking at yourself once again in the mirror, remembering that you had been waiting for him last night to drop by and talk to you, but he never came.
"Yes?"
"Why didn't you come talk to me yesterday?"
It sounded important.
"Oh, didn't Dostoevsky go talk to you?"
You pause, any doubts you were creating vanishing, leaving the line silent until Sigma asked if you were still there.
"Yes, yes. He did."
"Then you already know."
"I do."
"I'll see you soon, ok?"
"Ok."
With that, you hang up, dropping your phone on your bed and going to pick up the black dress to change, your mind a twist, the only thing running in the back of your mind being the taste of freedom that had been teased in front of you for so long.
An hour later, you're walking down the halls of the hotel area to get to the doors of the casino, the tight black dress sent to you combined with the nicest matching black high-heels you own fitting you perfectly. Arriving at the main Casino area, you are immediately overwhelmed with the bustling noise, heart beats loud with excitement, the familiar sound of slot machines echoing with the jingle of chips and coins in people's hands. The casino itself has been darkened to match the masquerade theme, though the game lights seem to shine brighter than ever, the most of the light not in the game area coming from the bar you promised yourself you wouldn't show your face in for a while.
Upon your arrival, you feel someone grab you by the arm and pull you to the side. You are about to protest until you realize it's Sigma, looking at you with relief that you were finally there.
"[f/n]! The business in the Casino has been reaching an all time high recently, isn't it great?" Sigma exclaims, looking around the room with pride. The way he moves to signal at the crowd, long hair basically bouncing with his same excitement, you hear his heart skip with the same ecstatic energy, and you can't help but smile softly at him, nodding in agreement.
"Your table is over there by the way. I don't have to tell you what to do since you've been here for so long...and it'll be a pain if what Dostoevsky said pulls through...but you know the drill. Loyalty first, and in the end...the house in control always win."
His tone is almost melancholic as he continues to talk, and as you study his sudden change in emotions, all you see is your manager who was kind enough to give you a place to find yourself years ago, his grey eyes glittering with the rest of the casino lights.
The house always wins...
"Sigma-"
"Nothing, just go. Oh! And here's your mask. Gogol and Dostoevsky picked it out for you." Sigma says, handing you a thin half masquerade mask, black to match your dress, but different patterns engraved in red so insanely detailed you don't understand what they mean.
Gogol and Dostoevsky picked it out...?
You turn to thank sigma but realizes he's lost in the crowd before you can say anything, turning back to the mask in your hand as you slowly walk towards your table, putting the mask on as you arrive, half of your face covered and the other half still exposed as intended. With a sigh, you go to shuffle some cards for a quick game of black jack with the guests, and as you do, you realize that everyone except you was wearing a full mask, even amongst your co-workers. You don't have time to think about it, however, as immediately as you distribute the cards, you see someone that as much as you could try, you'd never forget, even in a crowd of masks.
"Dazai?"
"[f/n]. Lovely dress." Dazai compliments, giving you a smile though his face is anything but pleased. Completely serious, he says nothing more, though you stay watching him, subconsciously admiring his outfit of the night.
Dazai wears a navy blue suit with a burgundy tie, his mask that same blue, the eyes shaped perfectly to match his sharp ones, and edge of the mask curved slightly up. His brown eyes glow from behind the mask, ever so often glancing between the cards you are handing out and you.
Why is he still here?
"You forgot someone." An unmistakable voice calls at you, tone full of amusement.
Your head whips to your left, eyes widening though you try not to give a reaction, your gaze landing on a white mask, its right side blossoming with black feathers diagonally and upwards. The man's outfit is a white suit with the folded part of the coat outline in black, a black bow tie to match tying it all together. Silver hair strains down his back in a low ponytail, his messy front hair the same as always. Light eyes meet yours, and you feel heat overtake you as you see Nikolai Gogol in front of you, and only a few seats away form Dazai.
Well. Let the party begin I guess.