[ 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. ]
[Dragging that out across three syllables was the hint of annoyance the world needed, but it didn’t matter. This was all show, the back and forths that were soon going to come to an end. What would the after be like? Peaceful? Quiet? Would it be what he wanted?Vox had a taste of it in the seven-year absence, and that had done nothing but make him a workaholic to an unhealthy degree, as if he built his company big enough and bright enough, then Alastor might catch a glimpse.
But clearly that was just because he hadn’t been the one to do Alastor in himself, right? That was the missing piece of that equation. When he did it, it be better. It would close the loop. He could finally forget everything.
But Alastor wasn’t wrong, either. It would leave that infinite wonder of what could’ve been, what a few more centuries would uncover. And he didn’t want (or need) that ghost to haunt him anymore than it already did.
Shit.
Vox needed to stall the execution while he figured it out. He needed to give himself some time to fucking think without this smile over his shoulder. He needed-]
What if I gave you one final hunt instead? Let you kill one person of my choosing. [He straightened up and backed up a few paces.] I mean, this is purely my generosity of pretending you have a choice; you’re a prisoner and that should require you to do what I say.
True, you couldn't ask for a better one. You could argue it's still a win of a sort.
[ It was hardly necessary to draw the word out like that, and Alastor rolled his eyes in response. The complaint was duly noted, though, and he did at least follow up with a nod of acknowledgment.
Vox was stalling. The man had no doubt spent decades fantasizing about it, but he couldn't take that final step needed to bring their story to a close. He might never do so. It was no different than how despite his constant threats and posturing, Alastor had never once even brought Vox close to death. He didn't desire an ending, or at least not one that was so permanent. ]
To a point.
[ Their deal was simple, even hastily done, without a set of clearly defined rules and boundaries. Alastor was his captive, which meant certain limitations, but he only had so much control over him. But certainly, him being captive meant there should be some way or another to force his hand. ]
Perhaps. If you're really that desperate to get me to put on some silly performance or another, I'll at least think about it.
[N-No! Of course Vox would do it! Killing Alastor was the only thing that mattered! It-it was just…it had to be perfect. Like a live broadcast, there was no room for error, for re-shoots, and that meant making sure everything was in order.
That’s all. That’s all it could be, right?
Vox’s eyes narrowed a little at the to a point. He could argue that prisoners didn’t exactly get a say in what happened traditionally, and even if Alastor didn’t before, well, Vox was a god now. There wasn’t much of a choice.
So…so he just needed to hurt Alastor. Maybe living with pain was worse than death and then the permanent fix wasn’t the best. And if that was the case, he could kill two birds with one stone. After all, clearly Alastor cared about the princess if he wanted to protect her with the original deal and if he worked under all her stupid – really, really stupid – dreams. Besides, if anyone was going to try to create a rebellion to fight against his power, it would be her; better to destroy it before it starts.
Everything could be solved with her blood spilled across the ground.]
This isn’t a request; it’s an order as your captor and your god. [Just throwing that around, and why wouldn’t he? He had earned it.] Our deal says I can’t touch that little princess, but there’s nothing saying I can’t make you do it.
[And he grinned as if he found the loophole, instead of falling right into a trap.]
[ Vox was in luck, because just the threat of being kept under someone's heel for the rest of eternity was enough.
It was that one singular thought that caused him to freeze up at the mention of the princess. It was only for a second, but the reaction was there, because Vox was right. There was nothing saying that he couldn't hurt her to begin with, really, but using another person to do his dirty work would be all that much more effective. It would cut off any possibility of their deal being broken.
But it only took so long before he switched his thinking around, and with that he found that there was an opportunity to be had here. ]
... No, there's not.
[ Alastor said through gritted teeth, because Vox had no right trying to order him to do anything. ]
Though I can't imagine why you'd choose her of all people. There's not a soul in Hell who pays any mind to her, and she's hardly a threat to you.
[ And that is true on both counts. The truth is, Charlie wasn't ready to be a leader. The fact that she'd so thoroughly failed to do anything here was proof of that. ]
I can't wait until the aftermath of his failure and see if Alastor still wants him as his idiot then
[That expression looked so good on Alastor’s face. It only served to make Vox smile wider.]
Oh, I know. Hell, there’s no one anywhere who’s a threat to me.
[Hello? God, anyone?]
And I want to keep it that way. It’s well-known that she’s not my biggest fan – might have to do with the exposes we did on her – but there’s always a chance that she might get stupid enough to try something. Why leave that story-thread out there running around?
[One of his cables grabbed the back of that chair and gave it a little spin, finally feeling like he was getting somewhere. Alastor was annoyed, Vox had the strings, what more could he want? He knew there would have to be stipulations, more details, time frames and that, otherwise Alastor would try to worm his way out of it by trying to do it six hundred years later or something annoying. But for now…now, he had this.
And it meant he didn’t have to kill him.]
What, don’t you want to? [His screen cocked to the side a little.] I’m giving you every person’s wet dream: kill your boss.
Unless you like her or something?
[That…wasn’t it, was it?]
He's going to take the ring off and throw it in Vox's face but then come back two days later
[ The spin was unexpected, and he squeezed his eyes shut before reopening them when the chair came to a stop. Vox had found a sore point to press down on, now. Even if there was opportunity to be found in it, there was just as much unease. He couldn't afford to make any further mistakes. ]
Even I have to draw the line somewhere.
[ And Vox would have some sense of where his limits were. Alastor had been quite particular about his victims in life, going out of his way to avoid harming women and children. He was looser on that front in Hell, but he never went out of his way to target those who were of no threat to him. And Charlie - a naive dreamer, passive to a fault, powerful yet lacking any sort of control over her abilities, and so thoroughly attached to him, could never be called that. ]
If I had wanted to kill her, I would have done so by now. But, thus far she's given me the most entertainment I've had in years.
[ Alastor doesn't say it quite so directly, but like is too strong of a word. Rather, she was useful to him. ]
The crashout is going to be *chef's kiss*. I'm a sucker for angst.
[That was interchangeable, right? And it wasn’t a big deal, just one person who could have the potential to cause problems later on. After all, if she was dead, he also couldn’t lay a hand on her, so wins all the way around.
This was called “being a boss”.
Also, don’t think about the dig of her giving him the most entertainment. Whatever. It didn’t matter. He just glared a little, before turning and walking back up to the throne, letting his own silence carry in the moment. He wasn’t sure if Alastor would agree, although if he didn’t care about her, he didn’t see why he wouldn’t. Since when would he put a life above his own?
Other than when it conveniently made Vox’s life more difficult, of course.]
Take the order, Al. You benefit out of this, and that is a rare chance from me.
Oh, hard same. It's going to be a disaster and I'm living for it. He's really losing it all. <3
[ The word order was enough to make him want to refuse it. His ears laid a little flatter in response, and he fell silent for a long moment as he weighed his options. ]
And what's in it for me? It's hardly worth it to me to put in all that effort just to live for a few more days, and spending the rest of eternity tied to a chair doesn't hold much appeal either.
[ He leaned forward. There was no world in which a person should make demands in response to an order, but there was no helping it. He was neither refusing it outright or hurling out insults in response, and that should be considered to be an improvement over his typical bratty attitude. Rather, it would be more concerning if he were so eager to work against his own interests. ]
[Vox had his attention, at least. The lack of smarmy bullshit proved that: no jokes, no digs. The first obstacle was cleared.
His elbow settled on the arm of the cold marble, and he rested his rectangular head in the palm. Fine, Alastor wanted out of the chair? Vox could make that happen, for the right price.]
This isn’t a negotiation.
[That would have meant that Alastor had some sort of power in this, and that couldn’t be true. He wouldn’t let it be true. The tip of his wingtipped shoes tapped against the floor.]
But if you want to offer up something instead, I might listen.
[ What else was there? Vox had wanted Heaven, and now he had it. He had wanted to own the Radio Demon, and now he did. Alastor was a prisoner rather than an obedient pet, but surely this was more fitting for them anyway.
He canted his head. It took a concerted effort to bite back a smart remark, but he didn't want to derail the conversation so long as there was the potential to gain something from it. ]
... What do you want?
[ Alastor was already making himself amenable to the ridiculous idea of killing the Princess of Hell for such a low price. ]
[If he was ever honest with himself, he would have admitted that the idea of Alastor being an “obedient pet” would bore him more than anything. Sicken him, too. After all, respect was the first thing he had ever felt for him, and the only pet he respected was Shock.wav, his sweet baby.
So yes, this was more fitting for them. This was more fitting for what he no-so-secretly wanted.
And to speak of wanting…That question made him stop and blink. What did he want? He had everything. The worlds were his oysters, pried open and waiting for his claws to take the pearls within. This was his. What could Alastor even give him anymore?
He thought of the office, silent and theirs in the tower and the way his body felt against his. He thought of a younger man, aching for his approval.]
Tell me I won. Tell me – and fucking mean it – that you regret not taking me up on that offer, because we could’ve been doing this together. Tell me what the fuck was up with what happened in my office.
[ That was quite the list of demands. Any one of them would have been ridiculous on their own, but when put together, Alastor had to wonder if the man was joking. He wasn't, of course, but it did feel as though he should be.
He accordingly had every right to dismiss the request out of hand for the greed of it all alone, but ultimately decided not to. Like as not, it could work to his favor to offer a bit of give here. But Alastor was nothing without his smile, and so no matter what he did, that would stay locked firmly in place. ]
I'll give you one of those things.
[ He leaned back and watched the other expectantly. It would have to be be between the first and the third, the second not being viable, but he could be fair on these issues when he so chose to be, and he was having one of those rare moments where he was feeling generous.
That was nothing! There were four things, and he was offering one? When Vox here had all the fucking strings?! It made him want to laugh. No, it did make him laugh, an airy bark of something short and vaguely broken.]
Three.
[He was giving up ground here, which didn’t bode well for him in terms of negotiations. It was a foolish mistake not to let Alastor hang on that. He had no plans on being a benevolent god, but here we are.]
[ Just one, but it was one more than he needed to.
He had to consider it for a moment. It wasn't that he hadn't thought about it until now, but he didn't fully understand it himself, and that made it more difficult to put into words. Still, he rifled around in his mind until he found an adequate way to put it. ]
That's easy. You asked for it. You were interested, and I was curious, and you weren't getting anything done. What reason was there not to?
[ He rocked back and forth in the chair now, pushing the seat up and down. It might not be the most satisfactory answer, but it should at least be enough to confirm there were no ulterior motives. It was as simple as him decided he wanted to.
Vox was free to prod more. Fair was fair, and if he wouldn't disclose everything, he would keep going until either the man was satisfied or he grew too tired of it. ]
[That wasn’t what he meant; he was just trying to negotiate from four items to three instead of the offered one. But it didn’t matter because that answer was enough to make the rest of fall away, forgotten.
(Not that those other things would have mattered; forced as they were, they wouldn’t be sincere and that, too, would always scratch at the back of his head, unfulfilled.)
Instead, he had this, simple and straightforward and blunt. Interested was a …choice…word, but considering how it went, he didn’t have a lot of room to stand on to argue against it. And no, he hadn’t been getting anything done. His eyes followed the chair moving back and forth, listening to it move in steady shifting, all of it punctuating all of his thoughts and derailing them.]
Oh, like you weren’t interested when you were in my lap? Like I was the only one who wanted it?
[He pushed up out of the throne and stalked over to him, heels echoing in the room. It was repeating again, the moments back in his office, the smokey bar a night so long ago. One sided. His hand grabbed the back of the chair and slammed it down so it would stop rocking.]
What, I- it was an experiment to you? Or you were just bored?
[ It wasn't, but Alastor ever took things as he would. It was likely for the best. They both knew that the alternative was pointless bickering in less than a minute, and once that happened Alastor would take it back. He'd take the offer back entirely, and mock Vox. Neither would be satisfied. So, he made the decision for them just like this.
He showed little reaction as Vox drew near. It wasn't until the chair was forced down that his eyes widened, jerking as his movements were brought to a sudden halt. His shoulders hunched, he averted his gaze, and for a moment he had the look of a sullen child, and one who felt they were being scolded without good reason. It was only for a moment, though, before he looked up. ]
Both.
[ Maybe that wasn't a satisfying answer, but it was good enough for Alastor. Curiosity and boredom were enough to do anything. It was what made people listen to radio, watch TV; it was what made them imagine, scribble down ideas and stories, find acts and desire and want on them. It was what made people seek each other out, to prod at each other in hopes of gaining something from them. And it was, too, what made people stand out so much.
Vox had never bored him.
He would relent just a tad. ]
Since you'd brought it up, I thought we could try something different than our usual back-and-forth and finding new ways to insult one another... [ He shrugged, ] I couldn't see any harm in it.
[ His eyes flicked to the side, because he had misjudged that one. ]
[It wasn’t. It wasn’t satisfying, but Alastor rarely gave Vox anything that was. Wasn’t that part of the issue?
Both.
Vox’s eyes narrowed before he cut the ropes with his claws; tying Alastor wasn’t necessary, not now, not really. Even the humiliation of it was pointless when Vox had so clearly won. If this newly appointed god was going to kill him, well, it was time to give him a fighting chance. That was the least he could do.]
Something…different.
[Let’s have scotch instead of whiskey. Let’s try pipes instead of cigarettes. Cocaine instead of opium. Make out instead of punching one another. There was no harm in it? He sure felt the harm after it, at least on his end. Alastor probably felt none because who- ha, who knew if he felt anything at all? Right? Ha!
Totally normal here.
Vox walked away to sit on the steps while looking at him.]
Right. What would be the harm? It didn’t mean anything. [Right?] It will never mean anything.
[ Despite being the one pushing for it, Alastor hadn't expected to be freed. After being kept restrained for so long, it was nothing short of a relief to have movement again. He rose up from the chair, and his eyes alternated between looking down and to Vox as he dusted himself off and smoothed his jacket out.
It didn't mean anything, huh...?
In truth, the last thing he wanted to do was sit down again, but he padded over to do that just the same. He sat next to Vox on the steps, and reached up to pinch the side of his screen, wiggling it a little. ]
Self-pity doesn't suit you.
[ He took Vox's hand, lifting it up and rubbing his wrist with his thumb as he considered. ]
But, you know how I am. I'm selfish, so I would never share with anyone. I won't let anyone treat me as though I'm beneath them either, much less like embarrassing secret to be hidden away. And you know, I really do think that there's a proper way to go about these things.
[ Alastor could go on, but he'll stop there. He had been in Hell for a century, but he still maintained so many of those traditional views that one would expect of a man from the 1930s. If it's not a direct answer, it should at least give some semblance of an idea as to what he was so upset about to begin with. ]
[Vox wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but it wasn’t that.
If the man had a nose, he would’ve been wrinkling it as his head was lightly shook. What the- One hand reached up to slap the hand away, but that’s the one that was taken. Held.
Oh.]
It’s not-I’m not self-pitying! Why would I? I’ve got it all.
[But he didn’t pull his hand away, he didn’t look at him for a long second, instead staring at their mutual shoes. All of this had derailed him from where he thought it was going: no murder sentence, no slaughter, not even an apology or an acknowledgement of winning. Release hadn’t even started a fight. It was quiet and weirdly intimate, something so unbalanced from the theatrics of what Vox had done to get here.
His fingers curled in Alastor’s, the tips of his claws scratching lightly over the other demon’s skin. No sharing. No hiding. Proper ways.]
I tried a proper way. You didn’t want it.
[That’s what he had been asking for so long ago. That’s the partnership he wanted. This, too, of course! Multiple uses for partners. Just-]
You aren’t an embarrassing secret. Ancient and dusty, but not embarrassing. Otherwis-
[He stopped for a second, before narrowing his eyes.]
[ He shouldn't have said anything. This is (in his mind) why he doesn't say anything. It never ends well.
As far as Alator was concerned, he didn't try a proper way. He wasn't thinking of that day seventy years ago, though. He wasn't even thinking of a partnership offer at all. He's thinking about sex. He was thinking about courting disguised as a request for sex. Alastor still wasn't sure if he believes their previous foray to have been that, but there was no going back now that he'd said something.
They should have kept on the subject of Vox killing him. ]
You asked what happened, and now I've told you. And I did not appreciate you bringing up your partner, [ Or whatever label they're using today, ] And I do not want to use the same chair as him.
[ Rather, not in that specific context and with the implications that had been given. He only grew huffier as he went on, displeased with this entire affair. ]
And it was a bad idea.
[ Because it wasn't something that Vox should be doing. It wasn't something that he wanted others knowing about for shame rather than privacy. That's to say nothing of the insult he received. Alastor had been in Hell far too long to hold a puritan view, but he still had a certain set of standards that need to be adhered to. ]
[Vox blinked. There was a staring silence as Alastor went on, as he blatantly proved just what he had said a moment ago. Well…]
You are jealous of Val.
[That was not the idea to take away from this, but he couldn’t help but smile with a significant amount of smugness. Alastor was jealous. Ha. It felt good, this balm on a wound that never truly stopped bleeding. After all, there had been a reason he had fucked Val in front of him, to prove that he could have someone, to prove that he didn’t need Alastor anymore.
Instead, it was the talk of a chair that got him.]
Uh, yeah. Of course it was a terrible idea.
[Awful. It had ended in anger and hurt feelings and a lonely night at the television consoles staring at him handcuffed to that chair. It had created sharpened corners that were more razors than butterknives. They had solved nothing, hadn’t addressed secrets and partners and ruling Heaven. It would almost definitely happen all over again, same order, same worn path.
[ As far as he was concerned it was perfectly normal to be turned off by somebody talking about their other sexual exploits, especially after having been subjected to them once already. But if he didn't see it as such, Vox was right all the same. Alastor was selfish, stubborn, possessive, and demanding, a person who was difficult in every way.
But it also would have bothered him regardless of who had been using it before. Either way, Vox was taking far too much pleasure in the idea. ]
... Here?
[ This seemed like a worse option than an office. It took a moment for him to realize that wasn't the biggest issue, and he shook his head upon doing so. ]
You just said it was a terrible idea, and you were just talking about killing me. Am I to sleep with my executor now?
[ It had done nothing to discourage the idea, as such things were always a thrill rather than a threat for them, but it seemed likely to end just as poorly as the first attempt. Maybe worse, because he had truly believed that their positions were temporary before. Now, though... He wasn't so sure.
And the last thing they needed was a repeat of that miserable night. ]
[His free hand reached up and flicked on of those ears. If anything, there was less smugness now, just more teasing. A little awe. Jealous. Huh. He had always hoped, but never thought-
Nevermind, it was time to discuss logistics. There was no refusal in there, no Shut that forever flapping mouth, Vox. This was like before, but better, something with more understanding…as much as there could ever be between the two of them. Here? Well…]
It’s Heaven, so I highly doubt that throne’s ever seen action before. And if it did, it was only missionary and probably with the lights off.
[Why not here? ]
I’ve got no meetings for the next couple of hours, but sure, if you want we can go somewhere else. My room isn’t too far.
[Hopefully Val was in his own right now, otherwise it would get awkward fast. He brought Alastor’s hand to his mouth, lightly running his tongue over those dark knuckles.]
I’ve been telling you I was going to kill you since you surrendered. It didn’t stop you before; why would it now? Are you scared of me?
[ It struck him as a bit wrong to do anything here. Alastor had never been a devout follower. He had fallen into deism early on in life, having come to the conclusion that God had no love for His creations early on, and had so chosen to believe in certain concepts for hope of life after death. But he had gone to church on Sundays, and even now the idea of defiling it felt so blasphemous and indecent that he might be smote on the spot.
His ear twitched several times once flicked, and the gesture earned Vox a brief glare. But it was short lived, though, as his ears shot up and his eyes widened in response to Vox's tongue running against his knuckles. There was a warmth to it, but also a static that ran through and sent a shiver down his spine and caused his grip to grow tighter.
Vox was teasing him now, of course - he was giving him a taste of what he could do, acting in such a way that promised more, all while taunting him. It really was unfair of him to leave Alastor alone for weeks, only to bait him like this. It was more unfair that it was working. ]
Of you? Don't be ridiculous.
[ He was just aware of the consequences now. They'd agreed that it was a mistake before.
But then, what was their relationship if not making the same mistakes over and over again? It wasn't enough to stop Alastor from shaking his head. He leaned in closer. ]
... We can stay here.
[ It still felt a bit profanatory, but perhaps that was what made it fitting for a pair of Sinners. Besides, this couldn't quite be called the Kingdom of God anymore, if it ever was. It was one angels made so they might look down on humanity. It was a place that should belong to humans. If anything, it was riskier to go to a bedroom - given Vox's present circumstances, that could lead to an awkward situation. ]
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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?
[Dragging that out across three syllables was the hint of annoyance the world needed, but it didn’t matter. This was all show, the back and forths that were soon going to come to an end. What would the after be like? Peaceful? Quiet? Would it be what he wanted?Vox had a taste of it in the seven-year absence, and that had done nothing but make him a workaholic to an unhealthy degree, as if he built his company big enough and bright enough, then Alastor might catch a glimpse.
But clearly that was just because he hadn’t been the one to do Alastor in himself, right? That was the missing piece of that equation. When he did it, it be better. It would close the loop. He could finally forget everything.
But Alastor wasn’t wrong, either. It would leave that infinite wonder of what could’ve been, what a few more centuries would uncover. And he didn’t want (or need) that ghost to haunt him anymore than it already did.
Shit.
Vox needed to stall the execution while he figured it out. He needed to give himself some time to fucking think without this smile over his shoulder. He needed-]
What if I gave you one final hunt instead? Let you kill one person of my choosing. [He straightened up and backed up a few paces.] I mean, this is purely my generosity of pretending you have a choice; you’re a prisoner and that should require you to do what I say.
True, you couldn't ask for a better one. You could argue it's still a win of a sort.
Vox was stalling. The man had no doubt spent decades fantasizing about it, but he couldn't take that final step needed to bring their story to a close. He might never do so. It was no different than how despite his constant threats and posturing, Alastor had never once even brought Vox close to death. He didn't desire an ending, or at least not one that was so permanent. ]
To a point.
[ Their deal was simple, even hastily done, without a set of clearly defined rules and boundaries. Alastor was his captive, which meant certain limitations, but he only had so much control over him. But certainly, him being captive meant there should be some way or another to force his hand. ]
Perhaps. If you're really that desperate to get me to put on some silly performance or another, I'll at least think about it.
Everyone wins! (also, Vox is an idiot.)
That’s all. That’s all it could be, right?
Vox’s eyes narrowed a little at the to a point. He could argue that prisoners didn’t exactly get a say in what happened traditionally, and even if Alastor didn’t before, well, Vox was a god now. There wasn’t much of a choice.
So…so he just needed to hurt Alastor. Maybe living with pain was worse than death and then the permanent fix wasn’t the best. And if that was the case, he could kill two birds with one stone. After all, clearly Alastor cared about the princess if he wanted to protect her with the original deal and if he worked under all her stupid – really, really stupid – dreams. Besides, if anyone was going to try to create a rebellion to fight against his power, it would be her; better to destroy it before it starts.
Everything could be solved with her blood spilled across the ground.]
This isn’t a request; it’s an order as your captor and your god. [Just throwing that around, and why wouldn’t he? He had earned it.] Our deal says I can’t touch that little princess, but there’s nothing saying I can’t make you do it.
[And he grinned as if he found the loophole, instead of falling right into a trap.]
He is, but he's Alastor's idiot. 🥺
It was that one singular thought that caused him to freeze up at the mention of the princess. It was only for a second, but the reaction was there, because Vox was right. There was nothing saying that he couldn't hurt her to begin with, really, but using another person to do his dirty work would be all that much more effective. It would cut off any possibility of their deal being broken.
But it only took so long before he switched his thinking around, and with that he found that there was an opportunity to be had here. ]
... No, there's not.
[ Alastor said through gritted teeth, because Vox had no right trying to order him to do anything. ]
Though I can't imagine why you'd choose her of all people. There's not a soul in Hell who pays any mind to her, and she's hardly a threat to you.
[ And that is true on both counts. The truth is, Charlie wasn't ready to be a leader. The fact that she'd so thoroughly failed to do anything here was proof of that. ]
I can't wait until the aftermath of his failure and see if Alastor still wants him as his idiot then
Oh, I know. Hell, there’s no one anywhere who’s a threat to me.
[Hello? God, anyone?]
And I want to keep it that way. It’s well-known that she’s not my biggest fan – might have to do with the exposes we did on her – but there’s always a chance that she might get stupid enough to try something. Why leave that story-thread out there running around?
[One of his cables grabbed the back of that chair and gave it a little spin, finally feeling like he was getting somewhere. Alastor was annoyed, Vox had the strings, what more could he want? He knew there would have to be stipulations, more details, time frames and that, otherwise Alastor would try to worm his way out of it by trying to do it six hundred years later or something annoying. But for now…now, he had this.
And it meant he didn’t have to kill him.]
What, don’t you want to? [His screen cocked to the side a little.] I’m giving you every person’s wet dream: kill your boss.
Unless you like her or something?
[That…wasn’t it, was it?]
He's going to take the ring off and throw it in Vox's face but then come back two days later
Even I have to draw the line somewhere.
[ And Vox would have some sense of where his limits were. Alastor had been quite particular about his victims in life, going out of his way to avoid harming women and children. He was looser on that front in Hell, but he never went out of his way to target those who were of no threat to him. And Charlie - a naive dreamer, passive to a fault, powerful yet lacking any sort of control over her abilities, and so thoroughly attached to him, could never be called that. ]
If I had wanted to kill her, I would have done so by now. But, thus far she's given me the most entertainment I've had in years.
[ Alastor doesn't say it quite so directly, but like is too strong of a word. Rather, she was useful to him. ]
The crashout is going to be *chef's kiss*. I'm a sucker for angst.
[That was interchangeable, right? And it wasn’t a big deal, just one person who could have the potential to cause problems later on. After all, if she was dead, he also couldn’t lay a hand on her, so wins all the way around.
This was called “being a boss”.
Also, don’t think about the dig of her giving him the most entertainment. Whatever. It didn’t matter. He just glared a little, before turning and walking back up to the throne, letting his own silence carry in the moment. He wasn’t sure if Alastor would agree, although if he didn’t care about her, he didn’t see why he wouldn’t. Since when would he put a life above his own?
Other than when it conveniently made Vox’s life more difficult, of course.]
Take the order, Al. You benefit out of this, and that is a rare chance from me.
Oh, hard same. It's going to be a disaster and I'm living for it. He's really losing it all. <3
And what's in it for me? It's hardly worth it to me to put in all that effort just to live for a few more days, and spending the rest of eternity tied to a chair doesn't hold much appeal either.
[ He leaned forward. There was no world in which a person should make demands in response to an order, but there was no helping it. He was neither refusing it outright or hurling out insults in response, and that should be considered to be an improvement over his typical bratty attitude. Rather, it would be more concerning if he were so eager to work against his own interests. ]
I have plaaaaaaaaaaaaans.
His elbow settled on the arm of the cold marble, and he rested his rectangular head in the palm. Fine, Alastor wanted out of the chair? Vox could make that happen, for the right price.]
This isn’t a negotiation.
[That would have meant that Alastor had some sort of power in this, and that couldn’t be true. He wouldn’t let it be true. The tip of his wingtipped shoes tapped against the floor.]
But if you want to offer up something instead, I might listen.
eyes emoji.....
He canted his head. It took a concerted effort to bite back a smart remark, but he didn't want to derail the conversation so long as there was the potential to gain something from it. ]
... What do you want?
[ Alastor was already making himself amenable to the ridiculous idea of killing the Princess of Hell for such a low price. ]
waggles eyebrows
So yes, this was more fitting for them. This was more fitting for what he no-so-secretly wanted.
And to speak of wanting…That question made him stop and blink. What did he want? He had everything. The worlds were his oysters, pried open and waiting for his claws to take the pearls within. This was his. What could Alastor even give him anymore?
He thought of the office, silent and theirs in the tower and the way his body felt against his. He thought of a younger man, aching for his approval.]Tell me I won. Tell me – and fucking mean it – that you regret not taking me up on that offer, because we could’ve been doing this together. Tell me what the fuck was up with what happened in my office.
[Answers. Fucking answers.]
And do it without a smile.
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He accordingly had every right to dismiss the request out of hand for the greed of it all alone, but ultimately decided not to. Like as not, it could work to his favor to offer a bit of give here. But Alastor was nothing without his smile, and so no matter what he did, that would stay locked firmly in place. ]
I'll give you one of those things.
[ He leaned back and watched the other expectantly. It would have to be be between the first and the third, the second not being viable, but he could be fair on these issues when he so chose to be, and he was having one of those rare moments where he was feeling generous.
Take it or leave it. ]
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One?
That was nothing! There were four things, and he was offering one? When Vox here had all the fucking strings?! It made him want to laugh. No, it did make him laugh, an airy bark of something short and vaguely broken.]
Three.
[He was giving up ground here, which didn’t bode well for him in terms of negotiations. It was a foolish mistake not to let Alastor hang on that. He had no plans on being a benevolent god, but here we are.]
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He had to consider it for a moment. It wasn't that he hadn't thought about it until now, but he didn't fully understand it himself, and that made it more difficult to put into words. Still, he rifled around in his mind until he found an adequate way to put it. ]
That's easy. You asked for it. You were interested, and I was curious, and you weren't getting anything done. What reason was there not to?
[ He rocked back and forth in the chair now, pushing the seat up and down. It might not be the most satisfactory answer, but it should at least be enough to confirm there were no ulterior motives. It was as simple as him decided he wanted to.
Vox was free to prod more. Fair was fair, and if he wouldn't disclose everything, he would keep going until either the man was satisfied or he grew too tired of it. ]
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(Not that those other things would have mattered; forced as they were, they wouldn’t be sincere and that, too, would always scratch at the back of his head, unfulfilled.)
Instead, he had this, simple and straightforward and blunt. Interested was a …choice…word, but considering how it went, he didn’t have a lot of room to stand on to argue against it. And no, he hadn’t been getting anything done. His eyes followed the chair moving back and forth, listening to it move in steady shifting, all of it punctuating all of his thoughts and derailing them.]
Oh, like you weren’t interested when you were in my lap? Like I was the only one who wanted it?
[He pushed up out of the throne and stalked over to him, heels echoing in the room. It was repeating again, the moments back in his office, the smokey bar a night so long ago. One sided. His hand grabbed the back of the chair and slammed it down so it would stop rocking.]
What, I- it was an experiment to you? Or you were just bored?
[That latter one, that he actually believed.]
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He showed little reaction as Vox drew near. It wasn't until the chair was forced down that his eyes widened, jerking as his movements were brought to a sudden halt. His shoulders hunched, he averted his gaze, and for a moment he had the look of a sullen child, and one who felt they were being scolded without good reason. It was only for a moment, though, before he looked up. ]
Both.
[ Maybe that wasn't a satisfying answer, but it was good enough for Alastor. Curiosity and boredom were enough to do anything. It was what made people listen to radio, watch TV; it was what made them imagine, scribble down ideas and stories, find acts and desire and want on them. It was what made people seek each other out, to prod at each other in hopes of gaining something from them. And it was, too, what made people stand out so much.
Vox had never bored him.
He would relent just a tad. ]
Since you'd brought it up, I thought we could try something different than our usual back-and-forth and finding new ways to insult one another... [ He shrugged, ] I couldn't see any harm in it.
[ His eyes flicked to the side, because he had misjudged that one. ]
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Both.
Vox’s eyes narrowed before he cut the ropes with his claws; tying Alastor wasn’t necessary, not now, not really. Even the humiliation of it was pointless when Vox had so clearly won. If this newly appointed god was going to kill him, well, it was time to give him a fighting chance. That was the least he could do.]
Something…different.
[Let’s have scotch instead of whiskey. Let’s try pipes instead of cigarettes. Cocaine instead of opium. Make out instead of punching one another. There was no harm in it? He sure felt the harm after it, at least on his end. Alastor probably felt none because who- ha, who knew if he felt anything at all? Right? Ha!
Totally normal here.
Vox walked away to sit on the steps while looking at him.]
Right. What would be the harm? It didn’t mean anything. [Right?] It will never mean anything.
[As if it would ever happen again.]
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It didn't mean anything, huh...?
In truth, the last thing he wanted to do was sit down again, but he padded over to do that just the same. He sat next to Vox on the steps, and reached up to pinch the side of his screen, wiggling it a little. ]
Self-pity doesn't suit you.
[ He took Vox's hand, lifting it up and rubbing his wrist with his thumb as he considered. ]
But, you know how I am. I'm selfish, so I would never share with anyone. I won't let anyone treat me as though I'm beneath them either, much less like embarrassing secret to be hidden away. And you know, I really do think that there's a proper way to go about these things.
[ Alastor could go on, but he'll stop there. He had been in Hell for a century, but he still maintained so many of those traditional views that one would expect of a man from the 1930s. If it's not a direct answer, it should at least give some semblance of an idea as to what he was so upset about to begin with. ]
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If the man had a nose, he would’ve been wrinkling it as his head was lightly shook. What the- One hand reached up to slap the hand away, but that’s the one that was taken. Held.
Oh.]
It’s not-I’m not self-pitying! Why would I? I’ve got it all.
[But he didn’t pull his hand away, he didn’t look at him for a long second, instead staring at their mutual shoes. All of this had derailed him from where he thought it was going: no murder sentence, no slaughter, not even an apology or an acknowledgement of winning. Release hadn’t even started a fight. It was quiet and weirdly intimate, something so unbalanced from the theatrics of what Vox had done to get here.
His fingers curled in Alastor’s, the tips of his claws scratching lightly over the other demon’s skin. No sharing. No hiding. Proper ways.]
I tried a proper way. You didn’t want it.
[That’s what he had been asking for so long ago. That’s the partnership he wanted. This, too, of course! Multiple uses for partners. Just-]
You aren’t an embarrassing secret. Ancient and dusty, but not embarrassing. Otherwis-
[He stopped for a second, before narrowing his eyes.]
Is this a trick? Are you fucking with me?
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As far as Alator was concerned, he didn't try a proper way. He wasn't thinking of that day seventy years ago, though. He wasn't even thinking of a partnership offer at all. He's thinking about sex. He was thinking about courting disguised as a request for sex. Alastor still wasn't sure if he believes their previous foray to have been that, but there was no going back now that he'd said something.
They should have kept on the subject of Vox killing him. ]
You asked what happened, and now I've told you. And I did not appreciate you bringing up your partner, [ Or whatever label they're using today, ] And I do not want to use the same chair as him.
[ Rather, not in that specific context and with the implications that had been given. He only grew huffier as he went on, displeased with this entire affair. ]
And it was a bad idea.
[ Because it wasn't something that Vox should be doing. It wasn't something that he wanted others knowing about for shame rather than privacy. That's to say nothing of the insult he received. Alastor had been in Hell far too long to hold a puritan view, but he still had a certain set of standards that need to be adhered to. ]
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You are jealous of Val.
[That was not the idea to take away from this, but he couldn’t help but smile with a significant amount of smugness. Alastor was jealous. Ha. It felt good, this balm on a wound that never truly stopped bleeding. After all, there had been a reason he had fucked Val in front of him, to prove that he could have someone, to prove that he didn’t need Alastor anymore.
Instead, it was the talk of a chair that got him.]
Uh, yeah. Of course it was a terrible idea.
[Awful. It had ended in anger and hurt feelings and a lonely night at the television consoles staring at him handcuffed to that chair. It had created sharpened corners that were more razors than butterknives. They had solved nothing, hadn’t addressed secrets and partners and ruling Heaven. It would almost definitely happen all over again, same order, same worn path.
They weren’t fixed at all.
Vox grinned, turning towards him.]
Want to do it again?
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[ As far as he was concerned it was perfectly normal to be turned off by somebody talking about their other sexual exploits, especially after having been subjected to them once already. But if he didn't see it as such, Vox was right all the same. Alastor was selfish, stubborn, possessive, and demanding, a person who was difficult in every way.
But it also would have bothered him regardless of who had been using it before. Either way, Vox was taking far too much pleasure in the idea. ]
... Here?
[ This seemed like a worse option than an office. It took a moment for him to realize that wasn't the biggest issue, and he shook his head upon doing so. ]
You just said it was a terrible idea, and you were just talking about killing me. Am I to sleep with my executor now?
[ It had done nothing to discourage the idea, as such things were always a thrill rather than a threat for them, but it seemed likely to end just as poorly as the first attempt. Maybe worse, because he had truly believed that their positions were temporary before. Now, though... He wasn't so sure.
And the last thing they needed was a repeat of that miserable night. ]
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[His free hand reached up and flicked on of those ears. If anything, there was less smugness now, just more teasing. A little awe. Jealous. Huh. He had always hoped, but never thought-
Nevermind, it was time to discuss logistics. There was no refusal in there, no Shut that forever flapping mouth, Vox. This was like before, but better, something with more understanding…as much as there could ever be between the two of them. Here? Well…]
It’s Heaven, so I highly doubt that throne’s ever seen action before. And if it did, it was only missionary and probably with the lights off.
[Why not here? ]
I’ve got no meetings for the next couple of hours, but sure, if you want we can go somewhere else. My room isn’t too far.
[Hopefully Val was in his own right now, otherwise it would get awkward fast. He brought Alastor’s hand to his mouth, lightly running his tongue over those dark knuckles.]
I’ve been telling you I was going to kill you since you surrendered. It didn’t stop you before; why would it now? Are you scared of me?
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His ear twitched several times once flicked, and the gesture earned Vox a brief glare. But it was short lived, though, as his ears shot up and his eyes widened in response to Vox's tongue running against his knuckles. There was a warmth to it, but also a static that ran through and sent a shiver down his spine and caused his grip to grow tighter.
Vox was teasing him now, of course - he was giving him a taste of what he could do, acting in such a way that promised more, all while taunting him. It really was unfair of him to leave Alastor alone for weeks, only to bait him like this. It was more unfair that it was working. ]
Of you? Don't be ridiculous.
[ He was just aware of the consequences now. They'd agreed that it was a mistake before.
But then, what was their relationship if not making the same mistakes over and over again? It wasn't enough to stop Alastor from shaking his head. He leaned in closer. ]
... We can stay here.
[ It still felt a bit profanatory, but perhaps that was what made it fitting for a pair of Sinners. Besides, this couldn't quite be called the Kingdom of God anymore, if it ever was. It was one angels made so they might look down on humanity. It was a place that should belong to humans. If anything, it was riskier to go to a bedroom - given Vox's present circumstances, that could lead to an awkward situation. ]
We can... Break it in.
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