[ Alastor is a prisoner, but he acts like he's a guest.
He's at the complete mercy of an infamous overlord, one with a seventy year grudge against him, but he does nothing but antagonize him. In fact, he's far more demanding and assuming than the majority of the population would ever dare to be. In fact, a person might be disposed of for much smaller transgressions. And what's more, he's left free to act in this way.
If not for the cords keeping him tightly bound to the chair and Vox's pulling him around (and even then, he's found his way around,) one would never know at all. He's beginning to make himself quite at home, in fact.
In fact, here and now, he sits across from him in his office just as well as his partners would. His plans are already known to Alastor (or at least, what's come up thus far.) His conversations with his partners are overheard. There's no surprises for him, but that matters little in his current position. He comments, provokes, slides away, gets pulled back, falls silent, and all those other things, testing out to see what does and doesn't work for the pair of them. The pains that come with those first days of living with someone.
Right now he's across from the desk, but he's pushed himself out just enough that he's able to spin around in it. He does that three times before stopping, his back to Vox. And while he could have remained facing him and that would have by far made more sense, Alastor will instead lean back slightly in the chair and tilt his head back. It goes down at an unnatural angle, looking as though someone had snapped it for how it presses directly against the chair's back. The smile, painted on his face, is upside down too. ]
Vox. [ And once he has his attention - ] I'm bored.
[ Is that really Vox's problem? Well, it is now. ]
Vox knew the answer – let that answer drive him half-crazy some days – but it was far easier to deal with now that this little deer was in his crosshairs. Funny how some rope, a simple deal, and a parade of bragging insults could feel so fucking good. Better than sex levels of good. Did it matter if Alastor heard what he was doing? Not really; it wasn’t like the famed Radio Demon was in a position of power to alter anything.
Everything was setting up nicely. Perfectly, in fact. And that little hotel was a beautiful prop in what was coming. It was close, all of it so close. And when he climbed the stairs to the highest point in Heaven, he would push that damn chair right down from the tiptop and laugh as he watched Alastor tumble and crash all the way to the depths of Hell.
But that was later, a desert after the feast that this angelic overthrow was going to grant him.
Still, listening to his prisoner whine about being bored drew a flat look from Vox as he shuffled a few papers on his desk. Really? Behind him, the giant shark lazily swam in the depths of its tank, the quiet threat even looming in this office. ]
I don’t recall entertaining you like a toddler as part of our deal. [He got up from the desk, walked over, and kicked the chair until it rolled into a corner.] Hope staring at the wall is extra exciting for you.
[ Alastor lifts one foot to stop the chair just before he goes banging into the wall, just his sole pushed up against it. He lets it stay there for just a moment before he pushes shifts it up, bending his knee and leaning forward before pushing back. The back of the chair slams right into the desk before lightly bouncing off of it, hitting once or twice more. Then he spins around and pushes off again, and the wall once more because he knows all that scraping and banging is annoying, before he spins around in his chair to look at Vox. ]
Well, that wasn't very entertaining at all! I'm already bored again.
[ He does believe that anyone else would have been tossed into the tank behind Vox by now, just one or two bites for the shark within it. Rather than feel anxious about the prospect, he finds a tinge of amusement in the idea. And rather than risk further offense, he instead crosses his legs and makes himself comfortable once more. ]
And you're not doing anything important.
[ Perhaps entertaining him wasn't a part of their deal, but what does that matter? ]
[Dammit, this deer was made of at least ninety-seven percent annoyance. ]
I’m running a media empire and leading an entire Hell rebellion. [It was ground out between his teeth, claws digging into his desk until the carved groves told angry tales. Why was he here?
…Vox knew why. Sure, he could say that he wanted to keep an eye on him, to make sure he didn’t escape and find some way out of the deal, but it was really just so he could gloat. Lording everything over him was satisfying, a smug enjoyment that had been waiting for decades to come to fruition, an edging that had been far, far too long. And now that he had it, there was something to say about the afterglow.
But this was annoying. On purpose.]
Maybe you don’t know what work looks like since you were just a, what, bellhop at that hotel? How much did the princess have you take care of, anyway? How did it feel being someone’s lackey?
[Fine, Alastor. Didn’t want to sit there and shut up? Have all of Vox’s smug attention. Was this better?]
It would be downright insulting if it were anyone else, but with Vox, negative opinion is akin to the highest of praise. Here is a man who's spent decades trying to get his attention with pitiful efforts to get under his skin, only to fail every time. Meanwhile, Alastor's very existence is enough to peeve him, and his nonchalance all the more. ]
Why, I'm a radio host! Have you forgotten already? You used to listen to my broadcast.
[ The statement is impersonal, nothing like when he had mentioned their shared past before. He might be a perfect stranger and it would have the effect. ]
This hotel business is just a bit of charity work I've been doing on the side, and I have to say that it's far more entertaining than I ever thought it would be. Who would have thought that angels could be killed so easily?
[ There's a short laugh, but he does fix Vox with a bit of a smug look. The man was always just copying off of his work and however much he wants to mock Alastor for his defeat, there's no denying how many doors that hotel had opened. ]
And that's not all I've gotten out of the deal.
[ Alastor did do a lot, though, enough that they were overwhelmed without his assistance. It must be worse now too, but that's not really his problem. ]
[Ugh. Why did he have to keep bringing up the past? What Vox used to do didn’t matter, especially after he changed listening to it out of admiration and into something else. Anger. Hatred. Fear.
But he did listen, at least until it stopped.]
You just love living in the past when I’m creating a shining new future. [Claws tapped against his desk, trailing over the top as he went back to claim his chair.] That’s why you’re going to be forgotten and I’m going to be a god; it’s all your lack of foresight and relevance.
[Foreshadowing much?
The angel comment drew his gaze, caught between being annoyed that he didn’t get feel the satisfaction of killing one himself (yet) and that the angels hadn’t just killed Alastor and saved him the trouble. He pulled a laptop over and started typing it, not raising his eyes to look at him.]
How many angels did you kill again? I just remember one of them kicking your ass and you running to hide after. Tell me, how did that feel?
[The smile was wide and smooth across that digital face. He knew that Alastor was baiting him on that last sentence and Vox refused to fall for i-]
It doesn’t count without a notarized contract. Everyone in entertainment knows that.
True, and that is what you were worried about, now isn't it? Well, one of the things, anyway. That's why your little spy is still staying there.
[ He leans back in the chair and kicking his feet up on the desk in the same way that Vox has a tendency to. He's not quite sure how Vox manages to stay in that position, finding it to be uncomfortable at best, but he can handle it for a minute or two here.
Before Vox can even start to process his answer, he's going to pivot right back to the original talking point, speaking in that rapid yet comprehensible, theatrical manner that's only possible for those in who excel in the media industry. ]
But, I haven't answered your question at all, now have I? Well, the problem is that I lost count! There were the ones that were in pieces after hitting my barrier, and there were the ones I tore to pieces...
[ He rocks back and forth in his chair as he explains, completely nonplussed by the mention of his defeat, ]
And of course, I'm the only sinner that's ever survived an encounter with Archangel at all.
[ Retreat or otherwise, he had done the impossible. He drops his feet down now, tired of that awkward position. ]
And best of all, I didn't need anyone to help me do any of it! In fact, the only reason anything happened at all was my efforts.
[ The opposite of Vox, so dependent on others. Everyone around Alastor needs on him, including the Princess of Hell. ]
Stop pointing out things he’s worried about, you staticky asshole. He pursed his lips and blew a raspberry, following it up with a-- ]
Psshh! What? No!. I’m not worried about anything; my plan is working fine. My little bug is staying where he is because he’s useful. He’s my tool. …And a tool.
[Ha. Get it?
Did Alastor ever shut up?! It was a constant barrage of blah blah blah. And besides, now he was just BSing.]
Shields don’t count, everyone knows that. That’s like saying you built a wall so everyone who walks into it is your kill count. And encounters don’t count if you don’t win.
[Or draw, at least. Either way, Alastor hadn’t won, and Vox took this moment to selectively ignore that part where he talked about who the Radio Demon tore apart. Just…forget about that. That was bad press. But the dig couldn’t be wholly ignored, leaving him to glare for a second before looking bored. ]
You say that, but you’ve never proven that. You’re just trying to make yourself sound more important than you are.
Tell me…
[Long fingers folded in each other as he leaned forward, resting his head on his knuckles.]
…do you think she’s actually going to come after you? Save you? Do you think she needs you right now?
[ He does not, and this is what Vox signed up for. ♥
There's a long moment of silence in response to the question. It hangs thick in the air as Alastor stares at Vox. His expression betrays no emotion. His smile doesn't waver.
He waits just long enough for it to seem like he's not going to answer at all before responding: ]
Let me ask you this in return: Do you think I would let someone save me?
[ He knows that the princess needs him, but Alastor doesn't need anyone. He never has. Besides - ]
[Vox would like to say he regrets it, but tied up, at his mercy, being paraded out there in a humiliation ritual? Nah. Still worth it.
He sat in the silence, waiting. And waiting. And waiting. Like a sucker, he started to open his mouth before Alastor started to talk, the dramatic dick just waiting to make things painfully awkward.
But he wasn’t wrong. Alastor loved to tout about how he worked alone, didn’t need anyone, ha ha Vincent. Would he have let Charlie help?
Vox leaned back in his chair, putting his feet on the table and honestly, Al, it wasn’t that bad. Get some ankle strength.]
When does the princess listen to anyone? She does what she wants because she thinks she’s helping. [His hands clasped, swinging side to side in a mockery of sweetness. Gross.] She thinks she’s better than everyone else, that she knows best. So why isn’t she at least trying to save you, unless you don’t matter?
[ Listen, some people were raised with enough manners to not not put their dirty feet on the furniture smh.
Vox wasn't entirely wrong in his assessment. Charlie was a strong-willed young woman, and it could be quite difficult to control her. Still, at present she had far bigger issues than the radio demon being kidnapped, and most of all when not a single person at that hotel would go along with any schemes. ]
Because I'm the one person at that hotel that she has any respect for.
[ If that might not be the main reason, it wasn't a lie either. Charlie had listened to him more than she did others over time. Besides, there wasn't a single person at that hotel who wouldn't dismiss any concern as Alastor knowing what what he was doing. He punctuated the sentence with a sigh and a shake of the head before adding, ]
Oh... Come on, Vox, don't you worry now. No one's going to come steal me away from you.
[ His tone turned into something amused and even teasing, because he found this angle better than back and forth. Unlike Vox who was in constant need of external approval, Alastor knew his worth quite well. ]
R-Respect? [Vox’s words stuttered with the laughter bubbling up and spilling free. Respect? Ha. Ha!] You think she doesn’t look down on you? That she doesn’t think she knows better than you? That she would redeem you in a heartbeat when we both know that’s impossible and not even something you’d want? Come on.
[She was easily moved, sure. Stupid, certainly. But she was prideful, had a superiority complex, and while Vox knew the spin was just that: a spin, those always had some foundational truth in there. That’s what made it work each and every time.
And amid that gloating and questions, Alastor interrupted it with … that. It wasn’t- he wasn’t worri- Fuck. The screen darkened with a flush across his flat cheeks, and he spun in his chair to try to hide it. No peeking.]
They can try; this isn’t a vacation, Alastor. This is being a prisoner. You’re annoying, but you’re mine.
[ Alastor's look only grows increasingly smug as Vox refutes him. The princess has her pride, she has her visions, and she has all those bad habits that come along with it, and that's precisely what makes his handle on her so impressive. His words have weight. It's no different than Vox, who he has under his thumb even now.
Though he is right about one thing. Alastor is someone who who would never want to be redeemed, and someone who she would want to redeem despite that.
But that smug look is finally wiped away by Vox suddenly spinning away. The darkening of his screen hadn't been missed, and it isn't quite what he'd been expecting. He cants his head, ears curving down to the one side, perturbed. It's not often that Vox acts in such an unpredictable way, but after a few seconds, he decides that the man being suitably embarrassed is all that matters and lifts his head back up. ]
So relax. I'm all yours. We aren't mimicking Beauty and the Beast or Rapunzel here.
[ Or some other fairy tale where Charlie can be the charming prince that saves the day (never mind that not applying to the former,) pick your poison. ]
We're in Hell, we're demons, and we're both far too old for those sorts of misadventures.
[War sure was Hell, wasn’t it? And now that Hell was Heaven, it was a place too bright, a place too pristine, with a bunch of suck-ups that tried to keep smiling when they lost again and again and again. The exterminators? Those were gone, and Vox delighted in broadcasting those executions across every signal he controlled…and those numbered all of them now. Sure, a few of those murderous bitches had escaped, slipped through his fingers like Charlie and those losers from the hotel, but they didn’t matter anymore.
Nothing did but the throne he lounged in.
It had been a few weeks and things were …settling, falling in line. Val and Velvette had sat in with some strategy sessions, dividing up things to work on between them while he ruled on high. He was the face, after all. The mastermind. This was all because of him, every inch of his victory. They were just conducting his Will.
(so he told himself)
And the hole inside him was smaller. Not gone – it couldn’t be, wouldn’t be, he was broken - but this made it a lot more manageable.
He called for Ethan to bring his prisoner in. Revolutions were surprisingly time-consuming, and it kept Vox from playing with the Radio Demon. Things had been distant, colder than normal since That Day, and they never talked about it. Now, with Heaven and Hell under his complete control, they never would.
Vox had finally won.
When his “esteemed guest” was brought into the room, Vox rose from the large chair on the dais, arms wide. Light streamed in from the many stained glass windows; he had a commissioned for new ones to be created, ones of him and what others were calling Liberation Day. He liked the sound of it, sure, but he hadn’t done this to liberate anyone other than himself.
His grin was wide, hungry.]
I’m waiting for my congratulations, Alastor. I think I’ve more than earned it. [He sat back down and relaxed in the opulent throne of gold and marble. Uncomfortable as hell, stone was. Cushions were being commissioned as well.]
I think you’re going to love what my first official decree was. Can you guess what it was?
Alastor did that and look at how Vox betrayed his trust!!!!
[ If it was a congratulations from the Radio Demon that Vox was waiting for, he would be waiting for all eternity. Alastor would be buried with it, shut up in his coffin with all the answers to questions left unasked, with those secrets that made him up, none of them shared with another soul.
He'd had long weeks to try to process what had transpired, but even now, he found himself in a state of shock, because this wasn't how things were supposed to go. He had broken one deal, but not the other; he had won against Rosie, but lost to Vox in every way. It was a fact that ate away at him as he had sat with nothing but his own thoughts - the wonder of what had gone wrong, where it was that he had miscalculated - and each time his mind went back to that fleeting moment in time where they had shared the same space. It was that brief warmth, that brief closeness.
He thought that now, too, as he was slid in front of Vox. To an outsider, it no doubt would have been a downright comical sight to see the two men - one set upon his grand throne, the other tied to a simple office chair.
What a mistake.
What a fucking mistake.
He stared up at the other demon. His ears were pinned flat back. His eyes were just as defiant as they were before, but more tired, more worn, though whether that was from the emotional strain or the fact that he'd long since stopped caring bothering with unnecessary things like eating and sleeping. The only thing that he wanted, that he needed, were his cigarettes, and those he still had. Those, and his powers still in tact, and so he was able to have just enough to reek of smoke.
And as always, the smile was there. It didn't slip for even a second. ]
Something stupid, I'm sure.
[ Alastor said in a dismissive voice. That, at least, he managed to keep the weariness out of it.
Maybe he shouldn't provoke Vox, but he didn't care. The man would either torture and kill him, or he wouldn't. Alastor's actions had no bearing on that decision. ]
GASP! I meeeeeean...did he reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeallly?
Claws twitched as he was mocked even now, but it didn’t really matter. He was resting on his bloody, hard-earned laurels and nothing that Alastor said could bring him down. Not while he wore this crown, a crown earned on the backs of dead followers.]
I banned radio. All of it. I made sure they were all rounded up and set on fire, which wasn’t hard to do. Outdated tech like that went up like paper.
[Radio towers couldn’t be dismantled, not when television still required it, but R&D was working on technology. But this was still a W, even if it was petty, small, and aching for a response. All attention was good attention.
(look at me, dammit)
Besides, this was just the preamble to the larger show, the more important one hanging over them. There would be an ending. They had been promised a series finale. ]
How are you enjoying Heaven?
OFC he trusted him to fuck it up, break both deals, and then they'd go back to normal :(
[ It should have bothered Alastor, but it didn't. He was the radio, just as much as Vox was television. The airwaves belonged to them alone, and once one was gone, there would be a gaping hole that would never be filled. He believed that with his entire heart, though he could no longer remember why.
It was a thought, some revelation, found at the bottom of some bottle, tapping at a microphone from the 1950's, rotating it up and down on his stand. He'd thought it then - that of all of Hell's torture, that was the worst, and certainly the pair of them were made for each other. They were made to be each other's Hell. There or gone, they'd torture one another for the rest of eternity.
But that thought has long since passed, buried along with the hangover, with every other miserable thought and feeling.
So he didn't feel sad now. Instead, he found Vox to be some pathetic creature. He nodded in response to confirm that he'd heard, but nothing more. ]
It's gauche, overstated, and dull, much like everything else that you favor.
[ Alastor leaned back slightly. There's a thoughtful hum before he decides to give Vox the attention he wanted after all, ]
Radio will die when I die and not a moment sooner. And I won't live to see that, so what do I care what you do with some trinkets?
[The answer was expected, but it didn’t stop his eye from twitching. Of course Alastor wouldn’t care; burning radios had been more about his own catharsis than to get a response out of this demon, yet it failed to do either.
The hole inside him grew again. Subconsciously, he could feel it, the first time since he sat on this throne.
Leave it to the Radio Demon to make even Heaven sour. This magnum opus, and it was dulled by him simply being here. That feeling of the ground under him being suddenly uneven was there, and even sitting made him feel the barest twinges of vertigo. Why couldn’t Alastor admit he won once?! Why couldn’t he be impressed for one fucking second?!
No.
No. It was fine. Heaven fell, godhood was on his shoulders. He didn’t need Alastor’s approval when he had all of Heaven and Hell.
Except for the part where he did..]
You know, it’s funny that you bring that up. I was going to ask you what you want for your last meal. The execution date is coming up, after all, and I want to make sure we can fit it in our busy schedule.
[Unmarked in his calendar, as if he didn’t want to do it. He did. He didn’t. He did.
He needed to be fucking free of him and death…death had to be the only way. ]
Honestly, I think that he's the only one who could. Give him an award.
The question caused him to cant his head, as though Vox had asked something truly strange. It didn't seem to much matter to him what it might be, nor had he thought about eating in some time. The ache in his stomach and the nausea had disappeared at some point, as he knew it would, and his magic would keep him from suffering the worst effects of starvation.
It seemed strange to him to want one. ]
Whiskey and a cigarette.
[ Simple, easy, and nostalgic. The same simple wants ever since life, the same ones that he'd shared with Vox for those years, and the same ones he'd taken only in private since. ]
Those are my oldest and most loyal companions. I don't need anything else.
[ And just what did that say about him? But it's only anything, and not anyone, and there was just one more thing. ]
[The image came to him with all the delicacy of a freight train: Alastor sitting at the far end of the bar, a drained whiskey glass with the ice cubes slowly melting to the room air. Cigarette smoke curling around them both like a serpent through the air. Talking shared between them, both of them smiling before-
Before only one was.
Vox beat the memory over the head with a shovel and buried it in the shallow grave it crawled out of.]
Perfect, sounds wonderful when we air that part. Some really great set pieces to create the tone; the audience will eat it up.
[He spread his legs, leaning forward to rest his elbows on them. Decisions had been made. It was going to end and there would be something in it for him, dammit. There…there had to be.]
I set up for a little pre-death camera work, B-roll. Maybe a quick interview.
[Because that was what happened before any murder.]
You were right: I’m not willing to share that moment with anyone other than you. [Which might have been romantic if it hadn’t been about slaughtering him.] But there’s nothing stopping me from doing a little Pre-Game show, right? "Final Sign Off - an Alastor interview". We're still workshopping the title.
True, a smarter man would've consummated the marriage by now.
Hm? Is that it? In that case, I'll pass on it altogether. Like all celebrities, I value my privacy. The common masses can use their imagination as to my preferences and any questions they might have.
[ He crossed his legs. The only two people who knew anything about him now were Husk and Niffty, and he owned them. There was no need to worry. There was no risk of betrayal. It was no different than talking to the air. But even then, it wasn't the same. There was never that softness. There was never that easiness. It was something else entirely. And even then, it wasn't the same. There was no piano, no whiskey with the ice cubes melted; no walking home with ears tilted back, jacket tossed over someone's shoulder and an arm leaned over them, wobbly from drink and finding ways to tease one another.
Alastor grinned as he canted his head. ]
As far as the public knows. I'm a monster that none can comprehend. That's precisely how a horror story should be, don't you think?
[ And that was him. To the general public, he was nothing more than a horror monster. Even to his fellow Overlords, he was something separate from them. He was a creature that went bump in the night, that preyed and feasted upon the flesh of those with status and notoriety.
Vox was the only one who had missed him who he was gone, and it was only Vox who would miss him when he was gone. He has no doubt that it was nothing short of a thrill for his fellow Overlords to see him overthrown after a century of being under his heel.
They could continue to wonder. He would be a faceless monster, a grinner, beyond comprehension. ]
[This wasn’t a ‘If you want to’ sort of scenario; it had to happen! The humiliation, it was part of the ritual, the full circle where he could feel that single moment of superiority. He didn’t fear Alastor; he never had; this wasn’t about breaking out from under his shadow like other overlords might.
He just wanted what was rightfully his: acknowledgment.]
People want to see the monster in the movie, Al. They want to see the heroes escape and kill it; that’s what the audience is paying for. If they see someone else kill it, they’re safe from it when they get past the credits. I’m not giving them the safety of watching your execution, so I need to give them something just as exciting.
[Too much monster took the horror and mystique out of it, though. It was a fine line to walk, but he left that up to directors and where they were putting in the product placement. Hmm…]
That reminds me, I should reach out to some of the whiskey companies and see if they want to sponsor your last meal. It would be good advertising.
[He pushed out of the throne, heels clicking against the floor as he walked to that rolly office chair. Silly thing, but it was convenient at this point. It didn’t matter. Vox just leaned down and looked him the face.]
It is. I choose if I can have a last meal, and I can choose to answer questions. You'll just have to find some way to spin glitchy videos.
[ Unless Vox truly does intend to force it, but that would be tacky at best. The man wasn't wrong. People did want that sort of ending. They wanted to know that they were safe from harm. They also didn't, though, because they wanted that mystery. They wanted the intrigue of being able to run into the boogeyman, they wanted the fear of that which went bump in the night - they wanted so much. They wanted so much, but always safe fears.
There was so much that he could say on that, too, but he had already spoken his peace. There was so much he could say, but he didn't feel any need to tell Vox whether or not he could comprehend him. But rather, he decided to do something else entirely, and Vox could decide for himself based on that. ]
But I'll be sure to put on a nice show for you... I'll give you my last words and my last breath.
[ Alastor said in a sultry whisper, and then he leaned forward to get as close as he could, tilting his head back in the process. Once he was close as he could be, he took in a deep breath before very deliberately breathing out, with every intention of fogging up the other's screen. ]
Edited 2026-02-20 05:45 (UTC)
Look, he would drop to his knees with the right word from Al. A good little puppy.
[No. Fuck, no. He wouldn’t force it and that was the crux of it, wasn’t it? The humiliation was fine when it was parading him around, when it was the petty, surface level dramatics. But something that serious? He couldn’t.
And that was frustrating.]
Oh, so you’re leaving your legacy up to me? I’m honored.
[That was a lot of power in his hands. He didn’t promise to use it responsibly.
Vox was still eye to eye with Alastor when he said that, like it was a gift. The tone twisted up that ache in him, igniting sparks that had started a fire weeks ago that smoldered but never burnt itself out completely. Being with Val was good, but it wasn’t the same, didn’t hit what he needed. His face brightened as if the settings had adjusted, and then darkened the asshole fogged up his screen. Everything went hazy, blurred, and he hissed as he used his sleeve to wipe it off.]
If we don’t need to wait for last meals and interviews, what’s to stop me from doing it right now?
[But the steadfast nature that was required was missing from his eyes. What would be his life without Alastor?
On the other hand, his last breath, his last words? Those were treasures no one could take from him. ]
stoppp when he does and that's Vox's downfall bc he's too distracted to notice the infiltration
[ The sight of Vox trying to wipe the fog off of his screen elicited a snicker from Alastor. It was unfair, but there was no other way of testing to see how far he could push things now. They'd already shared breaths with him, so close that he'd been able to feel the heat of Vox's breath and inhale warm air, and this was only so different.
Maybe Vox would kill him. He rocked back and forth on the issue now, like a boat at sea, but somehow, the other always felt like a lighthouse that could guide him. He always settled on that Vox wouldn't, even if the argument repeated.
Their relationship had been like that for seventy years. ]
Nothing. If you're satisfied with the shows I've put out until now, if you feel there's that I could add, then I've completed my job as your host. I'll take a bow. Acta est fabula; plaudite.
[ And that voice was one of a performer. His words still had that theatrical flair to them, but it was soft and warm, even hopeful, because one always hopes that what they say will be taken and remembered and built up upon - the finishing lines, the period on a sentence, with that affection that was reserved for a willing audience.
His voice was meant for radio, but without a doubt, if he weren't tied up, there would have been the gestures to match in perfect synchrony with those words. Alastor was a man who acted as though he was built for theater, yet hid himself away. His performances were ever for the smallest audience.
But none of that answered Vox's question. He stared at him, his gaze unwavering. ]
... But, if I've done my job as an entertainer, you'll spend the rest of eternity wondering about the infinite amount of possibilities that could have come to be. That's all we do.
[ Perhaps Vox didn't weave stories in quite the same way that Alastor did. Their talents were different, but neither one was worse than the other, and it amounted to the same thing. They thought of what could be rather than what was set out before them. They saw an audience. When not appealing to the lowest common denominator, or even if they weren't subjecting it solely to the lowest parts of Hell, they could stimulate imagination and let people create entire worlds. Vox was the audience for this show, he had been the sole member for well over seventy years, and he would be it until the very end.
Vox could end this broadcast whenever he was satisfied. That toothy grin was still there, yellow teeth and red eyes like an old radio flipped upside down, and his look promised that. ]
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He's at the complete mercy of an infamous overlord, one with a seventy year grudge against him, but he does nothing but antagonize him. In fact, he's far more demanding and assuming than the majority of the population would ever dare to be. In fact, a person might be disposed of for much smaller transgressions. And what's more, he's left free to act in this way.
If not for the cords keeping him tightly bound to the chair and Vox's pulling him around (and even then, he's found his way around,) one would never know at all. He's beginning to make himself quite at home, in fact.
In fact, here and now, he sits across from him in his office just as well as his partners would. His plans are already known to Alastor (or at least, what's come up thus far.) His conversations with his partners are overheard. There's no surprises for him, but that matters little in his current position. He comments, provokes, slides away, gets pulled back, falls silent, and all those other things, testing out to see what does and doesn't work for the pair of them. The pains that come with those first days of living with someone.
Right now he's across from the desk, but he's pushed himself out just enough that he's able to spin around in it. He does that three times before stopping, his back to Vox. And while he could have remained facing him and that would have by far made more sense, Alastor will instead lean back slightly in the chair and tilt his head back. It goes down at an unnatural angle, looking as though someone had snapped it for how it presses directly against the chair's back. The smile, painted on his face, is upside down too. ]
Vox. [ And once he has his attention - ] I'm bored.
[ Is that really Vox's problem? Well, it is now. ]
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Vox knew the answer – let that answer drive him half-crazy some days – but it was far easier to deal with now that this little deer was in his crosshairs. Funny how some rope, a simple deal, and a parade of bragging insults could feel so fucking good. Better than sex levels of good. Did it matter if Alastor heard what he was doing? Not really; it wasn’t like the famed Radio Demon was in a position of power to alter anything.
Everything was setting up nicely. Perfectly, in fact. And that little hotel was a beautiful prop in what was coming. It was close, all of it so close. And when he climbed the stairs to the highest point in Heaven, he would push that damn chair right down from the tiptop and laugh as he watched Alastor tumble and crash all the way to the depths of Hell.
But that was later, a desert after the feast that this angelic overthrow was going to grant him.
Still, listening to his prisoner whine about being bored drew a flat look from Vox as he shuffled a few papers on his desk. Really? Behind him, the giant shark lazily swam in the depths of its tank, the quiet threat even looming in this office. ]
I don’t recall entertaining you like a toddler as part of our deal. [He got up from the desk, walked over, and kicked the chair until it rolled into a corner.] Hope staring at the wall is extra exciting for you.
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Well, that wasn't very entertaining at all! I'm already bored again.
[ He does believe that anyone else would have been tossed into the tank behind Vox by now, just one or two bites for the shark within it. Rather than feel anxious about the prospect, he finds a tinge of amusement in the idea. And rather than risk further offense, he instead crosses his legs and makes himself comfortable once more. ]
And you're not doing anything important.
[ Perhaps entertaining him wasn't a part of their deal, but what does that matter? ]
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I’m running a media empire and leading an entire Hell rebellion. [It was ground out between his teeth, claws digging into his desk until the carved groves told angry tales. Why was he here?
…Vox knew why. Sure, he could say that he wanted to keep an eye on him, to make sure he didn’t escape and find some way out of the deal, but it was really just so he could gloat. Lording everything over him was satisfying, a smug enjoyment that had been waiting for decades to come to fruition, an edging that had been far, far too long. And now that he had it, there was something to say about the afterglow.
But this was annoying. On purpose.]
Maybe you don’t know what work looks like since you were just a, what, bellhop at that hotel? How much did the princess have you take care of, anyway? How did it feel being someone’s lackey?
[Fine, Alastor. Didn’t want to sit there and shut up? Have all of Vox’s smug attention. Was this better?]
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It would be downright insulting if it were anyone else, but with Vox, negative opinion is akin to the highest of praise. Here is a man who's spent decades trying to get his attention with pitiful efforts to get under his skin, only to fail every time. Meanwhile, Alastor's very existence is enough to peeve him, and his nonchalance all the more. ]
Why, I'm a radio host! Have you forgotten already? You used to listen to my broadcast.
[ The statement is impersonal, nothing like when he had mentioned their shared past before. He might be a perfect stranger and it would have the effect. ]
This hotel business is just a bit of charity work I've been doing on the side, and I have to say that it's far more entertaining than I ever thought it would be. Who would have thought that angels could be killed so easily?
[ There's a short laugh, but he does fix Vox with a bit of a smug look. The man was always just copying off of his work and however much he wants to mock Alastor for his defeat, there's no denying how many doors that hotel had opened. ]
And that's not all I've gotten out of the deal.
[ Alastor did do a lot, though, enough that they were overwhelmed without his assistance. It must be worse now too, but that's not really his problem. ]
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Fear.But he did listen, at least until it stopped.]
You just love living in the past when I’m creating a shining new future. [Claws tapped against his desk, trailing over the top as he went back to claim his chair.] That’s why you’re going to be forgotten and I’m going to be a god; it’s all your lack of foresight and relevance.
[
Foreshadowing much?The angel comment drew his gaze, caught between being annoyed that he didn’t get feel the satisfaction of killing one himself (yet) and that the angels hadn’t just killed Alastor and saved him the trouble. He pulled a laptop over and started typing it, not raising his eyes to look at him.]
How many angels did you kill again? I just remember one of them kicking your ass and you running to hide after. Tell me, how did that feel?
[The smile was wide and smooth across that digital face. He knew that Alastor was baiting him on that last sentence and Vox refused to fall for i-]
It doesn’t count without a notarized contract. Everyone in entertainment knows that.
[That didn't count as 'falling for it'. Shut up.]
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[ He leans back in the chair and kicking his feet up on the desk in the same way that Vox has a tendency to. He's not quite sure how Vox manages to stay in that position, finding it to be uncomfortable at best, but he can handle it for a minute or two here.
Before Vox can even start to process his answer, he's going to pivot right back to the original talking point, speaking in that rapid yet comprehensible, theatrical manner that's only possible for those in who excel in the media industry. ]
But, I haven't answered your question at all, now have I? Well, the problem is that I lost count! There were the ones that were in pieces after hitting my barrier, and there were the ones I tore to pieces...
[ He rocks back and forth in his chair as he explains, completely nonplussed by the mention of his defeat, ]
And of course, I'm the only sinner that's ever survived an encounter with Archangel at all.
[ Retreat or otherwise, he had done the impossible. He drops his feet down now, tired of that awkward position. ]
And best of all, I didn't need anyone to help me do any of it! In fact, the only reason anything happened at all was my efforts.
[ The opposite of Vox, so dependent on others. Everyone around Alastor needs on him, including the Princess of Hell. ]
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That’s from not skipping leg day. .Stop pointing out things he’s worried about, you staticky asshole. He pursed his lips and blew a raspberry, following it up with a-- ]
Psshh! What? No!. I’m not worried about anything; my plan is working fine. My little bug is staying where he is because he’s useful. He’s my tool. …And a tool.
[Ha. Get it?
Did Alastor ever shut up?! It was a constant barrage of blah blah blah. And besides, now he was just BSing.]
Shields don’t count, everyone knows that. That’s like saying you built a wall so everyone who walks into it is your kill count. And encounters don’t count if you don’t win.
[Or draw, at least. Either way, Alastor hadn’t won, and Vox took this moment to selectively ignore that part where he talked about who the Radio Demon tore apart. Just…forget about that. That was bad press. But the dig couldn’t be wholly ignored, leaving him to glare for a second before looking bored. ]
You say that, but you’ve never proven that. You’re just trying to make yourself sound more important than you are.
Tell me…
[Long fingers folded in each other as he leaned forward, resting his head on his knuckles.]
…do you think she’s actually going to come after you? Save you? Do you think she needs you right now?
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There's a long moment of silence in response to the question. It hangs thick in the air as Alastor stares at Vox. His expression betrays no emotion. His smile doesn't waver.
He waits just long enough for it to seem like he's not going to answer at all before responding: ]
Let me ask you this in return: Do you think I would let someone save me?
[ He knows that the princess needs him, but Alastor doesn't need anyone. He never has. Besides - ]
A deal is a deal, Vox.
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He sat in the silence, waiting. And waiting. And waiting. Like a sucker, he started to open his mouth before Alastor started to talk, the dramatic dick just waiting to make things painfully awkward.
But he wasn’t wrong. Alastor loved to tout about how he worked alone, didn’t need anyone, ha ha Vincent. Would he have let Charlie help?
Vox leaned back in his chair, putting his feet on the table and honestly, Al, it wasn’t that bad. Get some ankle strength.]
When does the princess listen to anyone? She does what she wants because she thinks she’s helping. [His hands clasped, swinging side to side in a mockery of sweetness. Gross.] She thinks she’s better than everyone else, that she knows best. So why isn’t she at least trying to save you, unless you don’t matter?
You're just expendable.
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Vox wasn't entirely wrong in his assessment. Charlie was a strong-willed young woman, and it could be quite difficult to control her. Still, at present she had far bigger issues than the radio demon being kidnapped, and most of all when not a single person at that hotel would go along with any schemes. ]
Because I'm the one person at that hotel that she has any respect for.
[ If that might not be the main reason, it wasn't a lie either. Charlie had listened to him more than she did others over time. Besides, there wasn't a single person at that hotel who wouldn't dismiss any concern as Alastor knowing what what he was doing. He punctuated the sentence with a sigh and a shake of the head before adding, ]
Oh... Come on, Vox, don't you worry now. No one's going to come steal me away from you.
[ His tone turned into something amused and even teasing, because he found this angle better than back and forth. Unlike Vox who was in constant need of external approval, Alastor knew his worth quite well. ]
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R-Respect? [Vox’s words stuttered with the laughter bubbling up and spilling free. Respect? Ha. Ha!] You think she doesn’t look down on you? That she doesn’t think she knows better than you? That she would redeem you in a heartbeat when we both know that’s impossible and not even something you’d want? Come on.
[She was easily moved, sure. Stupid, certainly. But she was prideful, had a superiority complex, and while Vox knew the spin was just that: a spin, those always had some foundational truth in there. That’s what made it work each and every time.
And amid that gloating and questions, Alastor interrupted it with … that. It wasn’t- he wasn’t worri- Fuck. The screen darkened with a flush across his flat cheeks, and he spun in his chair to try to hide it. No peeking.]
They can try; this isn’t a vacation, Alastor. This is being a prisoner. You’re annoying, but you’re mine.
[Not like that.]
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Though he is right about one thing. Alastor is someone who who would never want to be redeemed, and someone who she would want to redeem despite that.
But that smug look is finally wiped away by Vox suddenly spinning away. The darkening of his screen hadn't been missed, and it isn't quite what he'd been expecting. He cants his head, ears curving down to the one side, perturbed. It's not often that Vox acts in such an unpredictable way, but after a few seconds, he decides that the man being suitably embarrassed is all that matters and lifts his head back up. ]
So relax. I'm all yours. We aren't mimicking Beauty and the Beast or Rapunzel here.
[ Or some other fairy tale where Charlie can be the charming prince that saves the day (never mind that not applying to the former,) pick your poison. ]
We're in Hell, we're demons, and we're both far too old for those sorts of misadventures.
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Alastor is such a brat.
Being a brat truly is his thing. Vox wants to be a brat tamer so bad too.
HE DOES! He'll fail at it, but he wants to be!
Listen... I believe him (sort of.) He's just starting with Super Hell Nightmare Mode here.
He's trying Expert Mode and can't even make it through the tutorial with him.
He truly is.... On the plus side him failing is why alastor likes him
At least he has his priorities in order.
This has "sleeping on the couch tonight" energy.
He's pouty about it, but also....he knows he Fucked Up.
He did, but it's okay...... His wife will forgive him.
Buuuuut make him suffer a little first.
Just a little bit, because he deserves it... Those ears are staying pinned back.
It's fiiiiine. He'll pout where he can't be seen.
But will he go into the arms of his second wife...
The nights are cold and the couch is lumpy. Jealous?
He's happy with his nice, warm chair. Too bad a wheel broke off. Vox could've sat on his lap.
He still could if the balance is right. Hard to balance with this weird head though...
True. Move him to an armchair, then they can both sit comfortably, without the random spinning!
Sounds like a trap!
it's like a cat exposing their belly, it's worth the risk of a little love mauling
Let's be real: Vox is a little bit of a masochist.
Pain n' Pleasure but mostly pain... Our sadomasochists. Al probably grooms you after mauling though.
Awww, see? He does care.
He does, you have a kitty and a puppy right here.
LOL I can't help but think of the fizzie Kitty.
STOP that's it... It's him, sort of. I've raised feral kittens so that's my characterization basis.
OH I can DEFINITELY see that.
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You saw nothing of my wrong account. :P
Shhhh... There was no wrong account.
♥
this tag is so cursed, i'm sorry
It's peeeeerfection! *chef's kiss*
They are truly just so sick in the head.
Completely. I love them.
Same. They're freaks, but they're our freaks.
*smooshes them together*
NOW KISS...
♥♥♥♥
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Hey, Al, look. You broke him.
But can I break him harder?
The answer is always "yes".
oh ariana we're really in it now
*leans against the poster*
does this give him more or less motivation to take over heaven
Too early to tell. Depends on how bad he fucks it up LOL
He has a chance, but if he fumbles it, he has to take over heaven to unlock the R18+ scene
Look, he fumbles SO MUCH.
He does, but I get it on this one... If I had this man in front of me, I would fumble too.
Guilty as charged.
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This man is sobbing on the inside.
Ohh, Vox, honey... Complicated and sad and so very stupid.
It's a wonder that Al puts up with him.
Codependency is a Hell of a drug.
These two fools. Also, sorry about Vox's bitchy temper tantrum.
It's fine, is it really Radiostatic if somebody isn't making an ass of themselves?
You're definitely not wrong!
lbr Alastor is being pissy and petty too, just in the opposite way.
Giving him the silent treatment is weirdly effective.
He needs his wife's attention to live... :( cries we can probably wrap here tho
Just one last one, first!
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Time to take over heaven if you trust the Vees...
Nothing did but the throne he lounged in.
It had been a few weeks and things were …settling, falling in line. Val and Velvette had sat in with some strategy sessions, dividing up things to work on between them while he ruled on high. He was the face, after all. The mastermind. This was all because of him, every inch of his victory. They were just conducting his Will.
(so he told himself)
And the hole inside him was smaller. Not gone – it couldn’t be, wouldn’t be, he was broken - but this made it a lot more manageable.
He called for Ethan to bring his prisoner in. Revolutions were surprisingly time-consuming, and it kept Vox from playing with the Radio Demon. Things had been distant, colder than normal since That Day, and they never talked about it. Now, with Heaven and Hell under his complete control, they never would.
Vox had finally won.
When his “esteemed guest” was brought into the room, Vox rose from the large chair on the dais, arms wide. Light streamed in from the many stained glass windows; he had a commissioned for new ones to be created, ones of him and what others were calling Liberation Day. He liked the sound of it, sure, but he hadn’t done this to liberate anyone other than himself.
His grin was wide, hungry.]
I’m waiting for my congratulations, Alastor. I think I’ve more than earned it. [He sat back down and relaxed in the opulent throne of gold and marble. Uncomfortable as hell, stone was. Cushions were being commissioned as well.]
I think you’re going to love what my first official decree was. Can you guess what it was?
Alastor did that and look at how Vox betrayed his trust!!!!
He'd had long weeks to try to process what had transpired, but even now, he found himself in a state of shock, because this wasn't how things were supposed to go. He had broken one deal, but not the other; he had won against Rosie, but lost to Vox in every way. It was a fact that ate away at him as he had sat with nothing but his own thoughts - the wonder of what had gone wrong, where it was that he had miscalculated - and each time his mind went back to that fleeting moment in time where they had shared the same space. It was that brief warmth, that brief closeness.
He thought that now, too, as he was slid in front of Vox. To an outsider, it no doubt would have been a downright comical sight to see the two men - one set upon his grand throne, the other tied to a simple office chair.
What a mistake.
What a fucking mistake.
He stared up at the other demon. His ears were pinned flat back. His eyes were just as defiant as they were before, but more tired, more worn, though whether that was from the emotional strain or the fact that he'd long since stopped caring bothering with unnecessary things like eating and sleeping. The only thing that he wanted, that he needed, were his cigarettes, and those he still had. Those, and his powers still in tact, and so he was able to have just enough to reek of smoke.
And as always, the smile was there. It didn't slip for even a second. ]
Something stupid, I'm sure.
[ Alastor said in a dismissive voice. That, at least, he managed to keep the weariness out of it.
Maybe he shouldn't provoke Vox, but he didn't care. The man would either torture and kill him, or he wouldn't. Alastor's actions had no bearing on that decision. ]
GASP! I meeeeeean...did he reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeallly?
Claws twitched as he was mocked even now, but it didn’t really matter. He was resting on his bloody, hard-earned laurels and nothing that Alastor said could bring him down. Not while he wore this crown, a crown earned on the backs of dead followers.]
I banned radio. All of it. I made sure they were all rounded up and set on fire, which wasn’t hard to do. Outdated tech like that went up like paper.
[Radio towers couldn’t be dismantled, not when television still required it, but R&D was working on technology. But this was still a W, even if it was petty, small, and aching for a response. All attention was good attention.
(look at me, dammit)
Besides, this was just the preamble to the larger show, the more important one hanging over them. There would be an ending. They had been promised a series finale. ]
How are you enjoying Heaven?
OFC he trusted him to fuck it up, break both deals, and then they'd go back to normal :(
It was a thought, some revelation, found at the bottom of some bottle, tapping at a microphone from the 1950's, rotating it up and down on his stand. He'd thought it then - that of all of Hell's torture, that was the worst, and certainly the pair of them were made for each other. They were made to be each other's Hell. There or gone, they'd torture one another for the rest of eternity.
But that thought has long since passed, buried along with the hangover, with every other miserable thought and feeling.
So he didn't feel sad now. Instead, he found Vox to be some pathetic creature. He nodded in response to confirm that he'd heard, but nothing more. ]
It's gauche, overstated, and dull, much like everything else that you favor.
[ Alastor leaned back slightly. There's a thoughtful hum before he decides to give Vox the attention he wanted after all, ]
Radio will die when I die and not a moment sooner. And I won't live to see that, so what do I care what you do with some trinkets?
Leave it to Vox to fuck up fucking something up.
The hole inside him grew again. Subconsciously, he could feel it, the first time since he sat on this throne.
Leave it to the Radio Demon to make even Heaven sour. This magnum opus, and it was dulled by him simply being here. That feeling of the ground under him being suddenly uneven was there, and even sitting made him feel the barest twinges of vertigo. Why couldn’t Alastor admit he won once?! Why couldn’t he be impressed for one fucking second?!
No.
No. It was fine. Heaven fell, godhood was on his shoulders. He didn’t need Alastor’s approval when he had all of Heaven and Hell.
Except for the part where he did..]You know, it’s funny that you bring that up. I was going to ask you what you want for your last meal. The execution date is coming up, after all, and I want to make sure we can fit it in our busy schedule.
[Unmarked in his calendar, as if he didn’t want to do it. He did. He didn’t. He did.
He needed to be fucking free of him and death…death had to be the only way. ]
Honestly, I think that he's the only one who could. Give him an award.
The question caused him to cant his head, as though Vox had asked something truly strange. It didn't seem to much matter to him what it might be, nor had he thought about eating in some time. The ache in his stomach and the nausea had disappeared at some point, as he knew it would, and his magic would keep him from suffering the worst effects of starvation.
It seemed strange to him to want one. ]
Whiskey and a cigarette.
[ Simple, easy, and nostalgic. The same simple wants ever since life, the same ones that he'd shared with Vox for those years, and the same ones he'd taken only in private since. ]
Those are my oldest and most loyal companions. I don't need anything else.
[ And just what did that say about him? But it's only anything, and not anyone, and there was just one more thing. ]
Only if the award is a dunce cap.
Before only one was.
Vox beat the memory over the head with a shovel and buried it in the shallow grave it crawled out of.]
Perfect, sounds wonderful when we air that part. Some really great set pieces to create the tone; the audience will eat it up.
[He spread his legs, leaning forward to rest his elbows on them. Decisions had been made. It was going to end and there would be something in it for him, dammit. There…there had to be.]
I set up for a little pre-death camera work, B-roll. Maybe a quick interview.
[Because that was what happened before any murder.]
You were right: I’m not willing to share that moment with anyone other than you. [Which might have been romantic if it hadn’t been about slaughtering him.] But there’s nothing stopping me from doing a little Pre-Game show, right? "Final Sign Off - an Alastor interview". We're still workshopping the title.
True, a smarter man would've consummated the marriage by now.
[ He crossed his legs. The only two people who knew anything about him now were Husk and Niffty, and he owned them. There was no need to worry. There was no risk of betrayal. It was no different than talking to the air. But even then, it wasn't the same. There was never that softness. There was never that easiness. It was something else entirely. And even then, it wasn't the same. There was no piano, no whiskey with the ice cubes melted; no walking home with ears tilted back, jacket tossed over someone's shoulder and an arm leaned over them, wobbly from drink and finding ways to tease one another.
Alastor grinned as he canted his head. ]
As far as the public knows. I'm a monster that none can comprehend. That's precisely how a horror story should be, don't you think?
[ And that was him. To the general public, he was nothing more than a horror monster. Even to his fellow Overlords, he was something separate from them. He was a creature that went bump in the night, that preyed and feasted upon the flesh of those with status and notoriety.
Vox was the only one who had missed him who he was gone, and it was only Vox who would miss him when he was gone. He has no doubt that it was nothing short of a thrill for his fellow Overlords to see him overthrown after a century of being under his heel.
They could continue to wonder. He would be a faceless monster, a grinner, beyond comprehension. ]
HE WANTED TOOOOOOOO
[This wasn’t a ‘If you want to’ sort of scenario; it had to happen! The humiliation, it was part of the ritual, the full circle where he could feel that single moment of superiority. He didn’t fear Alastor; he never had; this wasn’t about breaking out from under his shadow like other overlords might.
He just wanted what was rightfully his: acknowledgment.]
People want to see the monster in the movie, Al. They want to see the heroes escape and kill it; that’s what the audience is paying for. If they see someone else kill it, they’re safe from it when they get past the credits. I’m not giving them the safety of watching your execution, so I need to give them something just as exciting.
[Too much monster took the horror and mystique out of it, though. It was a fine line to walk, but he left that up to directors and where they were putting in the product placement. Hmm…]
That reminds me, I should reach out to some of the whiskey companies and see if they want to sponsor your last meal. It would be good advertising.
[He pushed out of the throne, heels clicking against the floor as he walked to that rolly office chair. Silly thing, but it was convenient at this point. It didn’t matter. Vox just leaned down and looked him the face.]
I “comprehend” you.
[Did he?]
? HE STILL COULD? BUT HE'S A COWARD?
[ Unless Vox truly does intend to force it, but that would be tacky at best. The man wasn't wrong. People did want that sort of ending. They wanted to know that they were safe from harm. They also didn't, though, because they wanted that mystery. They wanted the intrigue of being able to run into the boogeyman, they wanted the fear of that which went bump in the night - they wanted so much. They wanted so much, but always safe fears.
There was so much that he could say on that, too, but he had already spoken his peace. There was so much he could say, but he didn't feel any need to tell Vox whether or not he could comprehend him. But rather, he decided to do something else entirely, and Vox could decide for himself based on that. ]
But I'll be sure to put on a nice show for you... I'll give you my last words and my last breath.
[ Alastor said in a sultry whisper, and then he leaned forward to get as close as he could, tilting his head back in the process. Once he was close as he could be, he took in a deep breath before very deliberately breathing out, with every intention of fogging up the other's screen. ]
Look, he would drop to his knees with the right word from Al. A good little puppy.
And that was frustrating.]
Oh, so you’re leaving your legacy up to me? I’m honored.
[That was a lot of power in his hands. He didn’t promise to use it responsibly.
Vox was still eye to eye with Alastor when he said that, like it was a gift. The tone twisted up that ache in him, igniting sparks that had started a fire weeks ago that smoldered but never burnt itself out completely. Being with Val was good, but it wasn’t the same, didn’t hit what he needed. His face brightened as if the settings had adjusted, and then darkened the asshole fogged up his screen. Everything went hazy, blurred, and he hissed as he used his sleeve to wipe it off.]
If we don’t need to wait for last meals and interviews, what’s to stop me from doing it right now?
[But the steadfast nature that was required was missing from his eyes. What would be his life without Alastor?
On the other hand, his last breath, his last words? Those were treasures no one could take from him. ]
stoppp when he does and that's Vox's downfall bc he's too distracted to notice the infiltration
Maybe Vox would kill him. He rocked back and forth on the issue now, like a boat at sea, but somehow, the other always felt like a lighthouse that could guide him. He always settled on that Vox wouldn't, even if the argument repeated.
Their relationship had been like that for seventy years. ]
Nothing. If you're satisfied with the shows I've put out until now, if you feel there's that I could add, then I've completed my job as your host. I'll take a bow. Acta est fabula; plaudite.
[ And that voice was one of a performer. His words still had that theatrical flair to them, but it was soft and warm, even hopeful, because one always hopes that what they say will be taken and remembered and built up upon - the finishing lines, the period on a sentence, with that affection that was reserved for a willing audience.
His voice was meant for radio, but without a doubt, if he weren't tied up, there would have been the gestures to match in perfect synchrony with those words. Alastor was a man who acted as though he was built for theater, yet hid himself away. His performances were ever for the smallest audience.
But none of that answered Vox's question. He stared at him, his gaze unwavering. ]
... But, if I've done my job as an entertainer, you'll spend the rest of eternity wondering about the infinite amount of possibilities that could have come to be. That's all we do.
[ Perhaps Vox didn't weave stories in quite the same way that Alastor did. Their talents were different, but neither one was worse than the other, and it amounted to the same thing. They thought of what could be rather than what was set out before them. They saw an audience. When not appealing to the lowest common denominator, or even if they weren't subjecting it solely to the lowest parts of Hell, they could stimulate imagination and let people create entire worlds. Vox was the audience for this show, he had been the sole member for well over seventy years, and he would be it until the very end.
Vox could end this broadcast whenever he was satisfied. That toothy grin was still there, yellow teeth and red eyes like an old radio flipped upside down, and his look promised that. ]
But what a good way to lose, right?
True, you couldn't ask for a better one. You could argue it's still a win of a sort.
Everyone wins! (also, Vox is an idiot.)
He is, but he's Alastor's idiot. 🥺
I can't wait until the aftermath of his failure and see if Alastor still wants him as his idiot then
He's going to take the ring off and throw it in Vox's face but then come back two days later
The crashout is going to be *chef's kiss*. I'm a sucker for angst.
Oh, hard same. It's going to be a disaster and I'm living for it. He's really losing it all. <3
I have plaaaaaaaaaaaaans.
eyes emoji.....
waggles eyebrows
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