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Alastor found the concept of soulmates to be, quite frankly, boring and overrated. The idea of being eternally bound to someone was suffocating. This person follows you around forever and you have no say.
What if you had better things to do than canoodle with someone else? What if kissing was just out of the question? What if you were happy just the way you were?
All things Alastor had made peace with long ago, when he was alive with dull nails and brown locks instead of sharp claws and red fur.
This, however, doesn’t stop him from noticing others and how they told him of their experiences with romance.
Vox was the first one to speak to him about it, years ago. They were walking side by side and Vox seemed to be very frazzled by his discovery.
“I had his words on my wrist ever since I was alive.” Voxs hand rubs at his sleeve, digital eyes flicking between it and Alastor. There was some sort of forlorn look in them as Vox gazed at him.
Alastor had a different soulmate tie all together, a red string that had been burnt off at the end. Either his soulmate was in heaven or severed all ties with him.
More likely Alastor was the one who severed all ties with them.
He’s completely fine with that. The very idea of being forced by some divine entity to stay with someone like that made him feel ill.
Vox, on the other hand, had the tattooed soulmates and was clearly okay with the very idea Alastor rejected.
“ ‘What brings a fine papi like you to a place like this?’.” Vox read it out bringing his sleeve up to expose the crimson red writing on his synthetic skin. “What a flirt, am I right?”
‘The soulmates first words to you is written in ink on your wrist’. Voxs type of soulmate is that of verbal love.
The type that shows off their affection for all the world to see.
How sickly sweet indeed.
“He definitely seems to be interested in you if that’s his response!” Alastor keeps his smile easy and inviting, even as he wishes for a subject change. “Please refrain from any dirty details!”
Vox scoffed, pixel eyes rolling as he pushed his sleeve back down.
“Oh please. It’s not like I’d tell you that stuff anyway.” Voxs gaze turns ahead of them, annoyed and blunt.
“Good man!”
“It was strange, seeing him like that. Even more bizarre was the feeling I got.” Vox raised a clawed hand to his chest, voice more soft than Alastor had heard it in a long time. “Like…Like a piece of me had returned home.”
Alastor couldn’t relate. He had found over the many years he’d been in hell, that one had to become their own home. Otherwise you’d risk losing it, and then where would you be?
(Alone on the street, cold and wet from rain. Wanting the warm arms of your mother wrapped around you, longing for the taste of her warm beef stew to reach your tongue. You’d want her to button your coat and fix your hair, her hand to sternly pinch your cheek as she chides you on manners, or lack there off.)
“And then I was disappointed.”
Alastor looked over, head tilted curiously.
Vox had stoped, hand clenching his sweater, large box head tilted downwards. He was tense, shoulders raised and spine straight.
“Because I really wanted it to be you.”
There was a cold numbness that reached his chest, slowly spreading out to the rest of his body.
Vox was his friend. Someone he took under his wing. He didn’t want their relationship tainted by something as frivolous as romance.
So instead Alastor laughed, rolling his eyes and waving his hand dismissively.
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll manage without that silly hope.” Alastor walked back in front of Vox, who stilled, and pat his shoulder. “Have your fun with him, Picturebox.”
It was quiet and still. Alastor had retracted his hand only for Vox to snatch it in a tight grip, his head snapped up, a look of hurt and anger on his screen.
“Don’t you even care?”
Caring was something Alastor stopped doing years ago. It served no other purpose than to make you weaker and prone to hurt.
After all look at Vox now.
“Vox.” Alastor took his hand back, eyes narrowed in distaste as he took a step backwards. “Why would I care about that?”
Vox flinched as if Alastor had struck him, before his face slowly morphed into boiling anger.
“Fuck you.” It was quiet and full of venom before he growled and pointed a clawed finger at Alastors chest. “Fuck you! You don’t get to do this!”
As he watched Vox seethe and spin on his heel away from him, Alastor decided not to follow.
He had a feeling something broke that day.
The topics of soulmates grew all the more sour.
To no one’s surprise, Rosie was the next one to bring it up.
She was crying on her lavish couch, hands holding her face as she sobs heavily.
“He’s my soulmate Alastor!” She cries out, voice muffled by her hands. Alastor reached out, arm curling around her shoulders as he rubs her arm soothingly. “I hate that it’s come to this. It hurts.”
To lose a soulmate is said to be one of the most painful things one can experience.
Frankie is dead. He’s dead because Rosie killed him.
Alastor eyed the bloodied heap on the ground, his throat sliced cleanly and seamlessly.
He can’t say he feels much pity for the man. He treated Rosie terribly. He was rude and pushy, openly degrading her if he found her ‘stepping out of line’.
As far as Alastor knew he never raised a hand to Rosie. The mere thought caused hot rage to surge in his chest, his teeth clenching with the urge to defend her.
He never hurt Rosie physically, but he was so cruel to her emotionally.
Rosie found him with another woman. A fox sinner, she had said. Ginger hair long and curly, body voluptuous, tail and ears fluffy.
He hasn’t a clue were the sinner ran off too, but Frankie didn’t survive the confrontation.
“The timer on my wrist had run out.” Rosie turned in his hold, resting her head on his shoulder, voice nasally. “I never would have thought I would be the cause of his death.”
‘Timer counting down to the time of your soulmates death.’ The kind of love that freezes you. In Rosie’s case it was a trap, a cage. It caught a beautiful and strong woman and caged her in its binds, refusing to let her
(Frankie refused to let her go, to let Rosie free of his dirty, unworthy hands.)
Why would the gods make her suffer so? Why would they cage her with a man that only ever brought her grief?
“Well, my dear.” Alastor gave her a encouraging squeeze before standing up, looking at the mess. “What I see is our dinner. Let him be useful for something other than staining your beautiful floors!”
Alastor strode over to the man, using his shadow to pick him up.
“If you’d be so kind as to-“
“I’m going to help.” Rosie stood up, lips pulled down and eyes stoney. “I want to help make him.”
Alastor eyed her for a moment before feeling his smile widen, admiration growing.
“Oh Rosie, the woman that you are.” He gave a bow, his ears perked upwards in his delight. “Id be honored to cook our dinner with you.”
Rosie gave a small smile, and Alastor counted it as a win.
As they shed the meat of its clothes, and threw them in a bucket, taking wash rags and whipping blood, sweat and excess oils, Alastor thought hard about this situation.
Two people were supposedly ‘made for each other’, and yet these two people only hurt and tore the other down.
And still, they were chained to one another, to the point that his death was haunting a woman that killed people daily.
Alastor spied Rosie’s hands shaking as she took a big butcher knife, the sharp blade aimed at the meats fingers, but never quite cutting.
Alastor feels sadness for his friend, and placed his hand over hers, steadying it for her.
“Let’s do this part together!” He looked over at Rosie’s blank face, seeing her black eyes glaze over with unshed tears. “I so love tearing into bone, the crunch is simply scrumptious!”
Rosie took a deep breath before her face grew determined, and she nodded.
“Oh, Alastor.” She gave a shaky smile, straightening up, her grip on her butcher knife tightened. “Such a sadist!”
“Naturally.”
The both chop down on the meats fingers, blood splattering on the large cutting board.
Soulmates.
Alastor thinks back to Rosie’s tears, to Voxs back leaving.
What a waste of time.
Charlie Morningstar, he found, was extremely infatuated with Vaggie.
It was obvious in everything she did.
When she says one of her exercises for redemption the first person her eyes drift to is Vaggie, and then they light up at the supportive nod the fallen angel gives her.
It’s in the way Charlie runs to hug her tight and give her a twirl when good news comes.
It’s in the hand holds, the sporadic pecks Charlie gives her.
The first person Charlie shares any news with, happy or otherwise, is Vaggie.
It came as no surprise to Alastor that Charlie one day pulled Vaggie forward during a meeting, the whiteboard titled ‘Soulmates’ in pale pink marker, the handwriting curvy and bouncy, little stars and smiley faces surrounding it.
There was a small but detailed picture of what he assumed to be Vaggie and Charlie holding hands with red hearts surrounding them sitting in the corner. The marker color purple, He assumed Charlie had convinced Vaggie to partake.
“So todays lesson is talking about soulmates and how they can definitely help you heal and want to do better!” Charlie was excitedly bouncing on her heels, both of her hands covering one of Vaggies hands.
Alastor feels himself grow uninterested in the topic immediately, leaning back in his chair, smile dimming some, eyes hooded in dissatisfaction.
Over the years the topic has grown more and more sour for him. Hes eaten and killed so many people, most of which had soulmates. Seeing the pain and suffering their partner would go through only brought him more firm in his belief.
Soulmates are useless, and people focus entirely to much of their being on them.
Where was the payoff to all the suffering you’d eventually go through? Where was the point of being followed like a master and it’s dog? Even worse for when your doing the following-It was embarrassing.
His finger tapped rhythmically on the top of his cane.
“And how you don’t have to be actual soulmates to chose one to be yours.” Charlie gave a meaningful smile to Vaggie, raising one of her hands to touch Vaggies cheek. Vaggies lips turned up to a soft smile, hand coming up to rest on Charlie’s hand on her cheek.
“Wait are you saying you two aint soulmates?” Husk caught on quick, ever observant. Sitting on the couch with Angels legs resting in his lap. “You two are the most sugary sweet couple in all of hell.”
Alastor gave a hum, eyes sweeping over the two women. He had assumed they were made for one another, with how often they make their public displays of affection. How protective Vaggie was and how doting Charlie is over Vaggie.
“Well, actually…” Charlie gave a peppy smile, turning to look at her audience. Her smile held a bit of sadness to it, a hint of hesitation. This caused Alastor to quirk a brow. “Angels don’t have soulmates. They were never meant to love like that.”
Vaggie looked down, arms crossing as she avoided eye contact with the group.
“I was never given one either!” Charlie announced, stepping forward to take some attention off her girlfriend, who clearly looked uncomfortable. “Mom always said it had to do with me having some angel blood in me.”
Angel looked between the two, looking confused. “Then why did you guys chose each other?”
Alastor rolled his eyes, finding that question to be redundant. People were always so focused on soulmates they lose focus on anything else.
“Because we fell in love, despite what society tells us.” Vaggie answered that one, looking up again. “They say those without a soulmate are lonely and miss out on life. That we could never truly love the way we’re ’supposed to’” Vaggie rolled her eyes, putting finger quotations around ‘supposed to.’
“How inspiring!” Alastor interjected, standing up from his chair. “True love prevails!”
Hes entirely too bored of this conversation.
“Alastor, we’re not done with our lesson yet.” Charlie spoke up, nervousness in her eyes, giving a hopeful smile. “Stay at least until halfway before you leave.”
Alastor hummed, disinterested.
“Oh I’m sure you’ll manage without me there.” He pulled up his hand, and untied the string he kept tied along his wrist, so it hung loosely on his pinky finger. “My soulmate is not in the picture you see.”
Charlie frowned, looking at the red string with soot and ash on the end. Her eyes grew softer, looking to be genuinely sad for him.
“That shit looks like it hurt!” Angel proclaimed, mismatched eyes wide as he leaned in closer. “Damn, how’d you handle it?”
Alastor moved his hand about, watching the string sway with his movements. “It felt like heartburn, then nothing.”
The extreme pain never really came to him. It hurt then it didn’t and that’s all there was to it. Nothing dramatic changed in his world, in fact he felt more free than ever before.
He was no longer tied to someone’s side.
He watched as everyone looked uneasy at how small of a deal it was.
He supposed he could understand, what with all the stories people tell about ‘losing half of their souls’.
“Anyways, it’s a pleasure to be talking, as always! But I’m afraid I must leave.”
He slunk away into his shadows before he gave Charlie the chance to talk him out of it.
He did admire the two women for going against society’s expectations-He did the same.
But he simply did not see how it would apply to him.
Romance and the such was so boring, the most expected thing to talk about.
He came out of the shadows in his room, falling back on his bed.
How boring today was.
Sir Pentious was next up to bring it to his attention, but it was not purposeful.
You see his was ‘the wounds on your soulmates body, you feel too’. They type that connects the two on a metaphysical level.
It’s the deep type of connection, the kind sown into your muscles and burned into your bones.
One day he was drinking at the bar with Angel next to him, then the next he was holding his stomach tight, groaning.
“Woah, you okay?” Angel spoke eyes wide and hands reaching out to touch the serpents shoulder.
Alastor looked up from the newspaper you was reading to watch the duo, mild curiosity in his grin.
“Cherri….” Pentious muttered, eyes widening as he held his abdomen. “Where’s Cherri?”
Angel hesitated before answering, voice slow and careful, like he too may start to loose his cool depending on the snakes next words.
“She’s at a party a couple blocks down…” Angels eyes trailed to the snakes hands, how they grip his stomach. “Why? Whats wrong with her?”
Alastor placed his newspaper down, and folded his hands in his lap, watching the display.
“She’s been hurt…” Pentious stood up, wincing as he did. “It appears to be rather bad.”
That’s all it took for Angel to quickly get out of his seat, eyes wild. The spider and cyclops have always been protective of each other, with a vast history of being each others ‘Day ones’ as they have been keen to say.
“Hey now!” Husk called from behind the bar, wings tense and ears up and alert. “What are you two walkin’ into? You can’t just go off with no-“
“Cherris in trouble!” Pentious hissed out, looking over his at the cat demon, fangs bared and neck flaps flared. “I will not wait!”
The strength in Pentious’ voice caused Alastors eyebrows to raise, surprise filling him.
Well, that’s rather unexpected.
But despite this surprising strength in the snakes voice, Alastors eyes are drawn to the hands clutching his stomach, The wince on his face, and the haggard way he slithered.
He was in pain, lots of it, and it was due to his soulmates inept ability to stay out of trouble.
It seems to be a punishment more than a blessing to have this type of soul bond, especially with the type of rambunctious woman Cherri was.
“You comin’ or not?” Angel intervened, face determined and body tense.
Husk opened his mouth, but as Alastor let out a few staticy radio waves his way his mouth closed, shoulders slumping and wings drooping.
“Just stay safe.”
Angel looked hurt for a brief second before he turned with Pentious, both of them rushing out to see the bombshell.
“Good boy, Husker! Staying put to do your job.” Alastor stood up, spinning his cane as he walked to the bar. “Seems you know your place well enough.”
He saw Husks ears go back as he growled under his breath.
Alastor let the cat fuss as he turned his head to look out the door.
He remembered how pained Pentious looked and thinks about the many times he’s seen the snake suddenly flinch and hiss in pain.
Cherri Bomb often had duels and fights for territory. Or just fighting because.
And because of her reckless actions her soulmate must deal with the pain.
Alastor took the drink Husk automatically made for him, sipping the bitter whiskey down.
What a cruel and unusual punishment for Pentious, to be tied so strongly to Cherri.
Soulmates only seem to serve as a punishment, not a blessing.
Angeldust is the next one that brings it up, and Alastor is confident he couldn’t be more sick of the subject.
“Whats it like?” Angel takes a drag from the cherry cigarette he was smoking, one of Valentinos many drugs. He blows out the smoke, the red substance flowing out of his mouth. “Not bein’ tied to someone, I mean.”
Alastor paused in the hallway, looking at the man who was leaning against the wall to his left.
He spun around, smile wide and curious as he gave a quick laugh. He wasn’t expecting a conversation from Angel, much less one so personal.
“Why, it’s so Magnificently freeing!” Alastor answers proudly, not one bit worried about the almost uncomfortable look he’s used to getting from the others.
Angeldust is no exception to this rule, his mouth twisted and his body tense.
“To walk about with no soul tied to yours, to be able to not worry about abandonment Or the pain they could cause-why it’s the most freeing thing one could imagine!”
Abandonment and pain follow him anyway, he didn’t need it more from his supposed other half.
He was whole and fine just the way he was.
Angel watched him wearily before touching his neck, eyes distant.
“I guess I can get it. The freedom of not bein’ unwillingly tied to someone else.” Angels eyes are still distant, as if he’s seeing something only his eyes could follow.
“Well, I’m glad you understand, good fellow!” Alastor tipped his head, his smile wide and amused.
“Don’t ya ever get lonely?” Angel asked this question softly, eyes still afar. “Not bein’ able to relate to someone, to not…to not have them there to talk to, or to pick you up when your sad.”
Angel turns his eyes to him again, staring straight into his eyes, the sad curiosity almost deafening with how intense they are.
Did Angel pity him?
The annoyance ran high as he gave a sharp grin, eyes narrowing.
“No I don’t. I find I like my own company far more than anyone else’s.”
Angel blinks in surprise before he laughed, head thrown back as he gwafawed into the open hallway.
“That sounds just like ya, Smiles!” Angel lets out a few more chuckles before calming down.
“I guess you can’t miss what you never had.” Angel takes another drag, then lets the smoke come out of his mouth again, the cherry red smoke curling and shaping into little hearts around him.
“I didn’t care for it much either. Not until I met’em.” Angels eyes go far away again, but this time with a warm glow in them. “He filled my world with color, and now I never wanna go back to that lonely gray.”
Ah, Alastor thinks resisting the urge to role his eyes. ‘Color only coming when you met eyes with your soulmate’, the most romanticized one. The one people write novels and movies the most on.
The kind of love that’s instantaneous, that fills your world and colors your life with its intensity.
The kind that goes back to hues of gray and white once they die.
Alastor finds himself growing bored-
“I’d never want to go back to bein’ alone again, even when I thought like you.” Angel turns his mismatched gaze to the ground, a adoring smile coming across his face. “I thought I was better off alone, like you do. “
His hand goes back to his neck, tracing the fur around it.
“I thought I loved someone once, and they turned out to be a humongous asshole. And after that I didn’t think I’d even entertain the thought of movin’ on again. I thought I was gettin by alright.” Angel moved his gaze up and looked meaningfully at Alastor.
“But I was so alone and scared.” Angels voice grew quieter, more fragile. Alastor found himself unable to move his eyes away from the spider demon.
“I was ready to destroy myself from the inside out before I met him. He lit my world up with these vivid colors, a world with comfortin’ pastels and bright neons.” Angels face flushed a bit with his words, a sheepish grin on his face, showing off his gold tooth.
“That’s why I’d disagree with it bein’ a chain or a burden.” Angel reached a hand up and placed it on his heart, Alastors eyes following its movement. “Even if you think it’s a weakness, for me it’s my biggest reason to move on. To better myself for me, and as a plus I can see his proud smile as I fix me.”
Alastors eyes widen at this, never quite having heard someone take agency in their soulmate situation, have someone find pride in themselves and their relationship.
Usually people are so co dependent on their soulmate that they lose sight of who they are and what they want outside of their relationship.
“Will you still feel that way, once your world goes dark?” When Alastor asked this question, he spies Angels breath hitch, his eyes wide at the thought.
Ha, he internally scoffed. Nevermind this conversation, it’s just like the others.
Then Angel closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and says:
“I’ll never regret the way he makes me smile, or the way he colors my life. I wouldn’t trade it for the world, so I’d go on. I’d live life like I could still see all the bright colors.”
And then Alastor just stares in shock.
Angel drops the ciggerette, stepping on it to be sure the fire was out. Angel turns over his shoulder and gives a friendly wink.
“Well nice talkin to ya, Chuckles. But I got a kitty to return to and a hell of a lot of booze I can drink.”
Alastor watches as the spider saunters away, hips swaying.
…
How interesting.
Alastor thinks perhaps, as he watched Angel laugh carefreely with Husk, that for a person such as Angeldust being tied to someone is a grounding thing.
Alastor stared for a bit from the inside balcony, humming as he tilted his head.
Perhaps to some the tie is a blessing.
He turned around, stalking back to the stairs.
Alastor still finds the whole concept revolting and suffocating.
But as he looked at Charlie squeel over something or another, her arms wrapping around Vaggie as she spins around joyously, he thinks, perhaps, some people need it.
He walks down the stairs, eyes shifting to Cherri and Pentious.
Pentious is blushing and stumbling over his words, Cherri watching with a raised brow and a careful smile.
For some people, who live lives so bleak, the idea someone is made for you makes them feel relieved.
He goes to the front door, hearing an advertisement from Vox on the TV.
Some people love that they are loved in that way.
Alastor sighed and left out the door, planning to head to cannibal town.
‘It felt like a peice of me had returned home.’
‘We fell in love despite what society tells us.’
‘I’d live life like I could still see all the bright colors.’
He had some things to discuss with Rosie.