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Summary
'No plea for assistance will ever escape his lips; the notion of groveling for aid from the King of Hell is an indignity he refuses to endure. His Shadow doesn't buy it. Of course, he is his Shadow and it is him. Alastor won't let them see how hurt, how deep in shit he is, won't let them care. If he does then he will be lost, he'll be nothing. He'll lose his precious edge, his plan will fail and freedom will remain sand between his fingers.
With stuttering breaths and unsteady hands, he wraps a fresh layer of gauze around his chest, binding the injury and his soul alike.'Or... Alastor is dragged kicking in screaming into acknowledging he has Feels a found family. Slow to update but NOT ABANDONED.
