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Sapphire blues followed, trained on the singular raindrop as it slid across the window. Emily had initially been watching to see if it could reach the bottom before its' competitior, but the wind blew the drop sideways, and that was so much more interesting.
She smiled as the drop blazed its' own path, breaking through the rest of the drops and leaving behind what was nearly crystal clear.
But something interrupted her. The shadows of the room pooled together, conglomerating into a shivering deer's shape.
Emily gasped. "Hey, little guy...!"
A distressed strand of static escaped from the shadow's form, its' eyes so very, very sad that it hurt Emily's heart.
"You don't have to be scared! Here."
She motioned a hug, projecting it onto the wall where the shadow was. While its' partner didn't like the touch, the shadow did, and Emily tried to hug it on its' terms.
That thought made Emily pause.
"Wait. Where's your...guy?" She frowned, patting the shadow's back.
The shadow fell, tumbling out the door and down the hallway. Emily followed close behind, gliding gently until she reached Room 33.
The same distressed static evaded the air of that room, though more vividly. And when Emily pushed the door open, she found the Radio Demon curled up on his bed.
"Alastor?" She whispered.
"Emily! Oh, my dear, don't come in here." Alastor smiled, though it wasn't reaching his eyes. "It's...dirty."
Emily frowned. "It's not all that dirty in here."
"Yes, it is," insisted Alastor as a pristine sock fell into his hand. He tossed it over his shoulder and let it sink into the swamp. "It's a pigsty, my dear."
Thunder shot through the sky yet again.
Alastor's ears fell, pressing flatly against his skull. His smile strained outwards, his body shivering at the sound. Damn those storms. They may have taken his Mama, but they wouldn't take his pride! Especially not in front of a Seraphim!
"Woah! Alastor... Hold on."
With a broad wave of her arm, a golden barrier reached up and fell back down, stretching across their forms with just enough space to stretch out. After all, Emily was polite, and she knew when was the time to give other people space. 'Leave room for Jesus', as Sera always said.
Well, J.C. said it too, but that was because he liked to join group hugs.
Alastor's eyes, tightly shut, cautiously opened to the golden glow of the shield. He tilted his head, an ear flicking back up.
"What is this...?"
"A bubble. And it's soundproof! Check it out."
Emily clapped twice, allowing the sound to not-quite-echo. It sounded so shallow that Alastor felt as if he was underwater. So very eerie, but it was better than the thunder.
A bright, sincere smile met Alastor's gaze. Never before had somebody help him without wanting something, and he knew he wasn't meant to look a gift horse in the mouth, but that mouth was wide open. He couldn't help his wandering eyes.
"Why are you doing this?" He asked.
"Well, I used to be really scared of storms, too. Sera used to do this trick-" Emily explained, before a realization broke her from her speech. "Oh, you don't know Sera. She's my sister! She likes swans."
Alastor bit back an exasperated sigh. "You were saying about storms?"
"Right! So she used to do this for me, and I'd feel super safe in my little bubble. And then she'd sing a little song for me." She explained, folding her wings around herself in a warm hug. "Then she taught me how to do it, and now I do it for the winners!" She paused. "And, you, I guess."
"How did this song go?"
A soft gasp of delight fell from Emily's lips. "You wanna hear it?"
Alastor nodded. "Music is a comfort to me."
A bouncy, cheerful tune started, though Alastor wasn't sure where it was coming from. Emily's shoulders shimmied, her hands rhythmically popping into jazz hands.
"This one's called 'Giggle at the Ghosties'!"
Alastor held back a playful roll of the eyes, though he felt his smile becoming more sincere by the second. "Wonderful."
"Ally, you gotta stand up tall.
Learn to face your fears!
You'll see that they can't hurt you,
Just laugh to make them disappear!"
Her shoulders continued to shimmy to the music, her smile ridiculously bright as she attempted to transfer her whimsy to Alastor.
Though he didn't know why, it seemed to work. And god forbid he get infected by the spirit of goodwill, but Alastor wanted to share his newfound relief with others. For some reason.
His fingers wandered over to his staff, activating it so that all of Hell may feel better under Emily's vocal embrace.