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Summary
Alastor never believed in fate. Or love a first sight. He never truly believed in much of anything. But some how, set against glittering lights and dark velvet curtains, he might have found it. Or obsession.
A bit Moulin Rouge inspired. A bit of darkness. Alastor is still a serial killer and Angel is still a slave. But it’s 1919 the war is over and party has just begun
