Information
Dmitriy
Legacy Name: Dmitriy
The
Nightmare CelinoxOwner:
villainyAge: 8 years, 7 months, 4 weeks
Born: September 18th, 2015
Adopted: 8 years, 7 months, 4 weeks ago
Adopted: September 18th, 2015
Statistics
- Level: 1
- Strength: 10
- Defense: 10
- Speed: 10
- Health: 10
- HP: 10/10
- Intelligence: 0
- Books Read: 0
- Food Eaten: 0
- Job: Unemployed
The coffee was cold. Dmitriy stared with placid, habitual disgust into the cup, tapping a somewhat ragged fingernail against the rim. The woman next door was entertaining a "male friend" again, who, if Dmitriy were to see them in the hallway, would be introduced to him as yet another "brother", or "cousin" (if even a quarter of those introductions were true, the woman would have the largest collection of family relations he had ever seen). That wouldn't bother him unduly, if they weren't being particularly loud, and if it weren't just past seven in the morning - a time which he preferred to spend alone with his routine displeasure at his unfailingly disappointing caffeine fix.
He had never learned how to make coffee on his own, and, frankly, had no real desire to do so; it was silly, if he really stopped to think about it, but there was some part of his mind that told him that if he ever learned how to make coffee, everything around him, all the changes in his life, would suddenly become very real. And Dmitriy was never one to deal with reality, preferring the warm embrace of denial.
If, a year ago, someone had told him that he would be living in this cramped second floor flat, which boasted peeling wallpaper, cockroaches, and the inexplicable, ever-present reek of cat piss - just to name a few of the many laudable selling points - he would have... well, the conventional ending to that thought was "he would have laughed", but Dmitriy was never one to laugh. He would have, instead, not even have listened to the sentiment in the first place, because idle, pedestrian chatter was beneath his attention or interest.
Oh, how far down the mighty fall.
He had never learned how to make coffee on his own, and, frankly, had no real desire to do so; it was silly, if he really stopped to think about it, but there was some part of his mind that told him that if he ever learned how to make coffee, everything around him, all the changes in his life, would suddenly become very real. And Dmitriy was never one to deal with reality, preferring the warm embrace of denial.
If, a year ago, someone had told him that he would be living in this cramped second floor flat, which boasted peeling wallpaper, cockroaches, and the inexplicable, ever-present reek of cat piss - just to name a few of the many laudable selling points - he would have... well, the conventional ending to that thought was "he would have laughed", but Dmitriy was never one to laugh. He would have, instead, not even have listened to the sentiment in the first place, because idle, pedestrian chatter was beneath his attention or interest.
Oh, how far down the mighty fall.