Russia Drabbles
Old wood moaned through the manor, the cry constant and paced. Up two flights of wooden stairs and down a corridor, where the once fine wallpaper pathetically clung to its place, the fourth door on the right was the origin of the abuse.
A rocking chair held a figure to it, a man judging by the wide placement of his feet. He hunched over himself, one hand supporting his cheek the other curled around the armrest. In the dark room that not even moonlight could reach, the man rocked the chair slowly. Violet eyes gleamed from under a ragged cut fringe. Something sinister swirled behind those amethysts, gliding beneath the surface undetected then bursting forth for an instance, before disappearing like a wisp.
There was something feral, lethal about this man, but he just kept creaking the floorboards, never moving from the chair, in that decaying house.
AN: First thing that I've written that is kind of good. Please offer me advise and criticism. Additionally I do not have a beta so please be kind. Thanks~