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Alastor hummed, squinting and looking intently to a figure in particular, demons mingled by amounts around him, but felt completely unimportant with such a good source of entertainment presenting right in front of him.
Watching fierce Vagatha dance was such a strange pleasure. The way she glided around the ballroom, as if it was a battlefield and she was the bringer of dead to everyone present to witness her, her partner another tool to be used, movements methodical, precise, certain. Intimidating and intoxicatingly charmfull.
Alastor suspected that those particular performances contributed to the apparent respect all the other Overlords appeared to direct towards the moth demon, little demonstration of power after going face to face against Valentino and at least half of his goons aside, because that was a clear proof of raw power, sure, but this? This pictured control, intent. The true ways of channeling power and being a real threat while using it.
Vagatha was, by all means and at that point, a complete threat in the eyes of the most powerful entities in hell, and that was… amusing. Perhaps Alastor would be finally able to find a person that could satisfy that particular craving of his. A worthy opponent, the person that would face him without fear in their eyes, answering fire, making him bleed.
Ah.
A thoughtful sound left his throat as he came back to himself, realizing the particular kind of viciousness that had took form on his expression, he schooled his smile into a pleasant grin and began to trek forward towards the dancefloor. The band was barely playing the end of their latest piece, but the ache that plagued him was wailing quietly intensely, and he itched to find out if he had truly managed to find the perfect balm to sooth it. Around him, couples sputtered and stumbled to move out of his way, feigning elegance and braveness, like silly little fools, Alastor smirked, vicious, with pride and annoyance mixing in his gut, he could recognize the fear and jealousy tainting their appearances as easily as he could feel the air reaching his lungs, simple preys, all of them, dumb and gullible like cattle waiting for execution.
So hilariously dissatisfying.
Finally, he reached the place where he wanted to be, and he stood there, with finality, a silent threat waiting with bated breath to be acknowledged, as expected, the warrior noticed him first, a disinterested frown appearing in place, and when their eyes met, Alastor couldn't help the satisfied sneer that curved his lips.
Because there was no ounce of fear in those pink eyes.
No sight of hesitation or doubt or a wish to flee. None at all. Just well measured suspicion and the tiniest spec of distaste.
How curious.
The song came to a close and the insignificant partner of the woman finally came to a stop, irrelevant prattle dying on his lips when he caught sight of the place where his partner was looking at, the demon made a startled sound and let go of the woman like he had been burned, eyeing Alastor like a pitiful rabbit that had been caught by a very mean looking wolf, but he didn't pay him any mind, focused entirely on those pink eyes, soft in color if in nothing else.
"May I have have this dance?" Alastor barely bowed, all fake courteousness and mocking chivalrousness, a clear disrespect considering who he was addressing, that pretty much was obvious, if the light bristling of furr and scowl that were made by the other demon was any indication.
"I'd be delighted" An imperceptible growl, all passive aggression and barely concealed disdain, Vaggie offered her hand instead of taking the one that was already put in front of her for the taking. Alastor felt his exhilaration grow by the action, the returned subtle insult.
He took her hand, and smiled in victory when he felt the strength that was held between those graceful fingers, the way the curled around his hand and also settled on the small of his back. As it appeared, Vagatha was not going to relinquish a single piece of ground to him. The action wasn't unexpected, but it was still refreshing, perfect, Alastor's shriveled heart jumped on his ribcage and he grinned, wide and hungry.
Dancing with her was as much of a delight as watching her had been, like holding fire that was perfectly contained, pretty and hypnotizing, and charmingly dangerous, like the most elegant kind of fight, with competitors that were in equal measure ready to not back down.
A step to the right, one back and a crafty little slide, quick and efficient and beautiful, Alastor managed to sneak his hand from the uncovered shoulder through the soft fur and sensitive wings and then getting closer to the small of her back, his partner hissed in aggravation, distracted in the second she attempted to stop his wandering hand, and that was the chance Alastor needed to make her trip and hold her in the sweetest of dips.
Quick on her feet, Vagatha arched her back prettily and clung to his back, Alastor smirked, reeling with the rushing sense of success, feeling then the sharp point of a blade start to dig in the place where a hand used to hold onto him.
Pink eyes burned with the seeking of vengeance and Alastor shuddered.
"What do you intend to do with that, my dearest Valkyrie?" He wondered, pulse rushing, head afflicted by a growing sense of longing.
"Depends on what you plan for your next move to be" A hiss, searing with hatred and a threat.
Alastor's breath hitched, tempted, oh so very tempted to push further, satisfy the need that had become unbearable, taste the fruit that had been hidden from him for so long.
It would be so easy, so very easy…
But he had promised Rosie that he would behave on this little party of hers, and it wouldn't do good for him to break his promises. So instead of acting on his wants, he sighed, straightening himself and bringing along the figure he was holding, the pressure of the dagger didn't leave though, and Alastor felt tempted. Thirsty and aching.
Finally he answered, words marked by static and the tiniest bit of yearning "I suppose, I would wish to ask for another dance."
The response he got was an offended huff, a look of bare disgust and the feeling of his partner slipping through his fingers, the swift movement made the skirt of Vagatha's dress fly in enticing swirls around her, as did the way she moved away to mix between the crowd, like a beacon of light through the sea, a signal asking him to find her.
Alastor remained where he was, feeling the ghost of a cold blade on his back and the warmth of her body between his hands.