The tall Russian man stood in the snow. His large form standing stock still in the cold wind and snow. Ivan didn't know how he had come to this, but he had and thats what hurt. Biting his chapped lips he looked down to the ground. He was unsure of what to do next, unsure of how to carry on. His people were a mess. He seemed to be losing power as each noziating second went by. Ivan clenched his jaw, wishing for someone, anyone, to be able to confort him in times like these. Yet all he had was his sisters. They were never much help no matter how hard they tried. He loved them, and he knew they loved him to. But relations were strained and he didn't want to lose them further.
Ivan's fists clenched to match his jaw, the numbing cold having no affect on the hardened man in its icy grip. Ivan faltered as he let his legs buckle under his weight and feel to his knees. The frozen earth coliding with his knee caps, ripping a pained gasp from his dry throat. Ivan learched forward, clutching the ground. Ivan's frame quivered with every muscle of his body shaking with withheld cries of pain. His knees no longer mattered as he let silent tears trail their way down his cheekbones and dripped off his face. Ivan squeezed his eyes tightly closed, hating himself. He let himself go, falling over into the snow, his arms cousioning his fall. He rolled over onto his back, closing his eyes. His breaths came out in strangled huffs as he tried to suppress his tears. A small tear sliped from his eye, making its icy trial down the side of his face to the ground below.
Ivan stood in his home, silent. The room was cacooned in a silky silence. The only sounds were that of Ivan's movements, the occational shuffle ad rubbing of fabric as he would lift the clear bottle to his eager lips. The small breaths that escaped his mouth as he tried to controle himself. Ivan let his head lull back and felt the smooth liquid slide down his throat with the familure burning sensation that came with his drink of choice. Ivan seemed to feel half complete. He was missing something. Nothing he could possably find in his home. But none of his feelings were what he wanted. He wanted to be emotionless, stone, cold to the world around him. Thats what everyone viewed him as, as far as he knew. To them he was a monster, crule, a murderer. He spat at the idea. He let a single laugh escape his lips. It grased the air as its leating presence rang in his ear for a second before it faded. Ivan shook his head, tilting the bottle to his lips and raised his head again, letting the last of the bottles contents glide down his throat. A small drop layed in the corner of his mouth before he wriped his mouth with the back of his calloused hands. Finaly moving he moved to throw away the bottle, having no ferther useage of it he slumped down the long corrordors of his large house. White walls darkened with lack of light. His shadow dance accross the wall beside him, following his movments. Ivan turned to face a door, pausing before opening the large oak door to a large room. There lay a king sized bed, with satin sheets and smooth pillows. A tall ebony dresser faced him as he walked slowly through the room. He ran his rough hand along the smooth wooden serface of the dresser. The soft red carpet rubbing the bottoms of his bare feet as he walked. He pulled off his ivory scarf, and layed down intop the bed, where an empty spot lay next to his form.