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Alastor hummed the soft tune of jazz as he unlocked the door to his hotel room with shaking hands. Stepping into the office of his space, he shrugged off his coat before making his way over to the liquor cabinet. After fixing himself a drink, he sat himself down in the plush, maroon loveseat by the fireplace. The warm tongues of the flames did little to soothe the cold, empty ache in his chest. His eyes-- uncharacteristically glazed and lifeless--lulled around the room languidly as he rolled the small glass in his hand. Around, and around, and around the glass went, filling the lonely sounds of the adjoining swamp with the 'clink, clink' clink' of the colliding ice cubes. Suddenly, he stopped, wrist coming to a stiff halt as his crimson eyes fell to the empty spot on the loveseat next to him. His brow furrowed, a half snarl-half scoff crawled up his throat, choking him. His grip on the glass a vice, threatening to shatter in any second. With a quick snap of his fingers and a wave of his other hand, the loveseat glowed a bright green for a moment before shapeshifting into a single-seat armchair. His clawed hand lingered for a moment in the air, before dropping down dejectedly. Alastor downed the remainder of his drink before throwing the glass violently into the flames, his face falling into his hands.
—
Alastor chuckled down at the dark liquid swimming in his cup, “I’m not sure what deity I had graced to deserve such a blessing from. She was quite the dame, my wife, yes indeed she was.” Husk sighed as he prepared to pour him another drink.
—
"Whatever do you mean dear friend?" Alastor asked, radio scratching, as if his internal voice box had been mistuned. “Bring my darling Wife down to the depths of Fire and Brimstone with me? Now don't be so ridiculous! Haha! My Wife is a dear of delicate sensibilities. I'm afraid she simply would not have been able to bare living amongst the sinners and degenerates that line these flea-bitten streets." His voice cracked again, louder, causing Rosie's eyes to widen. "No, no, that... simply wouldn't do, would it? No... my little Doe is up there, far... far away, past the Pearly Gates in the sky. Somewhere safe... somewhere clean." Rosie's soft smile fell into a thin line, she looked as though she wanted to say something, to call out his obvious lie, but the look on Alastor's face—one she had never seen before or since the day she had inquired Alastor about his wife—stopped her. Perhaps it was shock, to see the Deer Demon have anything other than sadism and malice in those vermillion irises, or maybe it was pity for the poor man. Alastor was dripping with grief at the mere mention of his love, like a festering wound that never truly healed, that bled at the slightest touch.
—
”Another drink, if you will, Husker.” Alastor hummed with humored misery, a slight slur to his typically refined words. He took a sip of the liquid before resting his cheek into the palm of his hand, staring at the dark depths absentmindedly. “She was such a doll…”
—
Niffty looked up at Alastor with her large, singular eye, tilting her head curiously at the much taller demon. "You see, Niffty, it just would not have been feasible all things considered, really. I'm a busy man with very busy pursuits. In my living life, I only had to manage my Radio Show and social events, and so having a wife was not too much of an inconvenience. But down here I'm afraid my darling would simply be too much of a distraction, being an Overlord is quite the responsibility, you know! There's no way I would have time to spend adequate time with my wife, or dance with her... or… enjoy meals with her... or…or..." His voice strained for a moment, smile lowering, eyes glazing over as he stared blankly ahead. The little cyclops, who so regularly could speak at a mile a minute if you let her, found herself at a loss for words. Swallowing the lump in her throat she spoke to him with a pitying tone, "Alastor, I, u--", suddenly the Radio static returned, this time with a vengeance. He snapped his face down to her, the smile on his features looking as what one could only describe as painful. “And well! An Overlord like me surely cannot waste time with such frivolous things. Imagine that! Falling into obscurity because I have an ol’ ball and chain attached to myself, it would simply be ridiculous! Can you imagine! What would the papers say? Just a preposterous notion!”
—
Alastor tipped back his drink of choice during the last few decades—whiskey—the bitter taste almost as potent as the bitter truth to why he was alone here in the landscape of hell. “Did I ever tell you the story of how we first met?” Husk, while cleaning a glass, listened to him just as he always had.
—
Angel Dust, Charlie, Vaggie, and Sir Pentious all exchanged nervous glances as the Radio Demon, who was seated at the bar, rambled to them.
Husker scrutinized the man lounging across the bar top in front of him and to the other demons who sat on the other side of the room, fuming and incredulous. "Are you fuckin' kiddin' me? You guys are going to listen to this fake bullshit and not saying anything? Seriously?" Alastor snapped his neck backwards with a sickening crack, smile wide and imposing. "Whatever do you mean, old friend? I've said nothing that would imply sarcasm, as much as I do love a good joke!" The laugh track played as expected, though today is sounded as even though it didn't believe the words coming from the Radio Demon's mouth, strained and awkward. "Now, as I was saying, my Little D--". Husk, unfazed, just scoffed, "Unbelievable. You seriously expect anyone to fuckin' believe that bullshit coming from ya' mouth. After all these years, you still really can’t fuckin’ accept it." The whine of the mistuned radio sounded again, high pitched and irritated, Alastor's neck snapped to the side again with another, louder crack. The shadows around the room danced and the scleral of his eyes turned an inky black. His smile strained to a Cheshire size as he replied, voice now far more distorted, each cracked and enraged, “I'd advise you to watch your tone with me, dear Husker. As I said, I was simply answering Charlie's question, as honest—" "Oh, for fucks' sake, Alastor." The wide eyes of everyone else followed the interaction, terrified and confused as to why Husk would stick his neck out so brazenly. The Cat demon paid them no mind; he had been in this profession for years, and he'd seen and heard damn near anything that a person could see and hear. And he knew what denial looked like when he saw it. "Drop the goddamn act. You wanna know why you didn't drag your poor, lovin' wife down here to this shithole with ya'?" "As I was already st—" "No, you goddamn moron. It’s so obvious you’re in fucking denial you can’t even see that it’s not us you’re trying to convince, it’s ya goddamn self you’re lyin’ to all these years. It's not because she wouldn't have been able to tolerate hell, no, it's not because you were worried she'd have held you back, no, it's not because she would've been a weakness for others to exploit. And no, it's not whatever millionth bullshit excuse that's gonna come out of that bullshittin' mouth of yours." By the end of Husk’s speech, Alastor's form had contorted monstrously, limbs cracked and popped and stretched, his smile now would've ripped his face in half if not for the stitches at the corners, and thick, viscous liquid dripped from his gaping maw. Radio dials bore into Husk with fury, The radio static now ripped through the air, raising the hair of everyone present, sparks and bites of electricity nipping at their skin. Charlie stood up, “Alastor, Hus—“, Alastor’s voice, now feeling as though it was bouncing off the static in the air rang out, "I'll give you three secon—“ Husk, just as angry at the pathetic show the Radio Demon had put on didn’t back down, his fur bristled and his wings flared. "You loved her!" Husk snarled back, eyes wide and wild, claws gripping the bar top as he yelled straight into Alastor's face, "You loved her. And from everything you've told me for damn near a century, she loved the hell outta you. You knew she'd do anything for you, she'd follow you to the goddamn ends of the Earth and down into the madness of Hell if you'd have asked her. She’d have followed and found you in the next hundred lifetimes if that was what it took to stay by your side. And you knew that! You knew that! And you, ya selfish, self-centered bastard you, every bone in your body, every goddamned nerve screamed, demanded that you did whatever it took to make sure she came down here with you. Stayed with you. And it would’ve been so easy, so easy! She’d have done it for you without a second thought, she have been happy to!” Husk swallowed for a moment, wings lowering as he came the conclusion he sometimes still struggled to believe. “But… but you fought that, you fought your nature. I’d never thought I’d say these words Alastor because I never would’ve believed you could love anyone but yourself. But here we fuckin’ are. You knew you'd never love anyone like that again and you couldn't if you tried because she loved you like no one ever could. You knew she didn't deserve to be corrupted by this filth. Because you know deep down that she deserved better than this… than you. You loved her and that's why you let 'er go. Because you let go of the shit you love."
Silence. No static, no radio tracks, nobody spoke, nobody even dared to breathe. The room was still and cold as a lonely grave. Husk, who had closed his eyes for a moment—half composing himself and half expecting to be erased from this plane of existence—looked up again. And once again, for the second time in the past century, Alastor shocked him once more. His eyes gazed directly into the Radio Demon’s, the Radio dials were gone, replaced by the usual crimson. But, what had shaken him, was the lack of malice, the lack of sadistic joy, the lack of life itself, instead replaced now my pain. Alastor wasn't looking at him, he realized, but rather through him, into the nothingness—into the emptiness. Nobody, Husk, nor anyone else, had ever seen Alastor in his grief, face contorted, consumed by the sorrow which had been inflicted by the memories of his lost love and the grave sacrifice he had made of his heart for their sake.
Within the blink of an eye, Alastor had morphed into shadow, and was gone.
—
Alastor sat back up slowly, hands falling limply to his sides. He stared into the fire, his rage and grief reflected in the wild flames as they stared back. This was his punishment he supposed, his damnation for his unholy sins on Earth. Perhaps you were never a blessing, he thought, but a disguised curse. His greatest love, forever far away, and he—no matter how powerful a demon—could do nothing to pass into the Silver City where you now resided. All the power and all the suffering he delighted in felt worthless. Stuck here in the Seven Circles where he was damned to rot alone for the rest of eternity. Husk was right, Alastor could come up with a Million and One reasons for why he had left her untainted, pure enough to escape this loathsome place—a Million and One lies. Deep down, in the old, worn heart that can only hold the memory of a heartbeat for when he thinks of her, he knows the real reason. A single, thick, black tear runs down his cheek, “I love you.”