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Alastor hated his shadow.
Yes, it came in very handy at times. Fetching him simple items needed, aiding him in slinking into the shadows in which it thrived.
But more annoyingly was its tendency to…emote.
While it rarely did so in public, it had often given Alastor quite the frown when alone, usually as a result of his own sour mood.
It was disgusting.
Yet another thing the dark reflection of himself did that frustrated him was disappear when he needed it
Something he was currently trying to remedy.
Static crackled around him, smile stretched taunt across his face, staff clutched tightly in his hand as he stormed down the hallways, glancing at every dark corner. Hoping to find the wretched creature slithering about.
Once he made it to the lobby–rather empty today it seemed–Alastor made another wide sweep, eyes narrowing whenever a shadow moved. Yet never how his did.
“Awww! Thanks, Al! Er…Shadow Al!” Charlie’s voice rang through from the kitchen, a blat of screeching static escaping the demon as he stormed into the adjacent room, the sight significantly worse than he feared.
The princess was stood in an apron and ridiculous chef’s hat, happily taking a wooden spoon from the shadow–a shadow which held a happy smile, looking like a parent watching their child trying something new. “Good morning.” Alastor hissed through gritted teeth.
Both Charlie and the shadow turned towards Alastor. And much like the petulant child it was, the shadow manifested a tongue just to stick it out at him. “Oh! Morning, Alastor! I was wondering when you’d show up, considering…y’know. This little guy.”
The way she reached up and pet the shadow between the ears–and the way it leaned into it–made the Radio Demon’s blood boil.
“Indeed. I'm afraid I need my shadow back, however.”
“Aw. Well, I had fun, Shadowster.”
He begged his finest fucking pardon? “Shadowster?”
“Yeah! If you’re Alastor, he's Shadowster! Cuz’ he’s a shadow.”
“It is a shadow. It does not have a name.” He tried to instill, that frustration only growing when Vaggie stepped into the kitchen, raising a brow at first before smiling at Charlie.
“Smells good. What’re you making?”
“Cookies! With some help from Shadowster!”
“...Riiiiight.” She hummed, shooting a glance at Alastor that screamed, ‘control your dog’.
To make matters worse, the very shadow that had been resting its arms laxly upon Charlie’s head swiftly zipped to the top of Vaggie's, looking down at her with a curious tilt of its head.
He was going to kill it. He’s been saying it for years, but he was going to do it this time.
His patience was worn thin, his in-control facade cracking as he slammed the end of his staff down, glowering at the shadow that was now twirling the fallen angel’s hair in between its shadowy digits. “Shadow. Heel. Now.”
Before Charlie could whine about being ‘nice’ to the shadow, it dissipated, racing off to find its next unfortunate victim.
Great. More running after the blasted thing.
Damn it.
*0*
“Havin’ an off day?”
Quite the understatement, if he had to say so himself. But Alastor merely let out an amused hum. “Hardly.”
He set the empty whiskey on the counter, tapping it lightly, not even having to speak for Husk to refill it. “You’ve been literally chasing your shadow all day. Looks like it's not too keen on cooperating.” The cat mused.
“It is stubborn, yes. A pure reflection of myself.”
He waited, watched that look in the man’s eyes–seeming to mull over whatever he was about to say was worth the risk of Alastor snapping. “Seems like he’s reflection’ a lot more lately.”
Alastor swirled his drink in hand, tearing his eyes away from the scene of his shadow lifting Nifty up to aid her in her cleaning endeavors. "What do you mean by that?”
Once more Husk hesitated, seeming far more focused on a singular stain on the counter. “I’m just sayin’. I’ve known ya for a while now. I’ve seen your shadow…interact. With people. And he’s…” Another pause, looking up, a huff and an amused smile gracing his face.
Such a thing made Alastor glance back towards his shadow, static prickling his veins and his antlers cracking as he saw his shadow seeming to be watching whatever it was on those miniature picture-phone rectangles. Sitting between Angel and Cherri, both giggling whenever the shadow made a new face at whatever it was seeing.
“Gettin’ pretty comfortable.” Husk finished, an amused noise escaping his throat.
Alastor’s teeth ground together. “It is doing this to spite me.” He had nothing to say to retort back, too frustrated to bite back.
“Eh, I think he’s onto somethin’ else.”
“Stop calling it that.”
The cat raised a brow. “A what?”
“A ‘he’. It is a shadow–a concept.” He groaned, drinking back his whiskey and allowing Husk to fill the drink back up. “At least you haven’t given the blasted thing a name.”
“Ya mean ‘Shadowster’? Or ‘Shadow Al’”
“Yes. Those.”
“I think it fits.” He hummed. Before a ‘mrrp’ of surprise escaped, ears flattening as his eyes furrowed in annoyance. “Speak of the Devil.”
As he had said, the shadow was perched with its hands on top of Husk’s head. Inky hands scratching at the top of his head, its own ears lowered in a pleased expression.
“That I cannot fault him on.” Alastor chuckled, having enjoyed mockingly petting Husker in the past.
“If this thing makes me purr, I’m cuttin’ you off.”
*0*
Chasing one's shadow is a fruitless endeavor, even more so when it seemed to have a mind of its own.
Throughout the day he continued to find his shadow huddled up to various members of the hotel before scampering off when Alastor drew to close.
Curled up next to Keekee like a secondary cat.
Aiding Charlie and Vaggie with handing out keys.
Astutely watching Baxter experiment on yet another roach with just as much sparkle as Nifty beside it.
Dancing about with Angel, Cherri and Husk when he left his post at the bar.
But the final straw: the final fucking straw came in the form of his shadow hovering over Lucifer of all people. Watching the miniature king read a book, mouth curled up and ears tilted back in a disgusting display.
“That's it.” He grabbed the shadow by its tail end, yanking it back towards him, antlers extended and eyes blackened in anger. “I am sick and tired of your nonsense!”
“I’m just reading–” Lucifer protested, before seeming to realize who Alastor was referring to.
Alastor, of course, ignored him. “You wretched shade–what is your angle?”
He loathed to lose his cool like this–and in the middle of a public lobby, no less. But he had it up to here with the shadow that refused to stay where it belonged.
The shadow slipped out of his hands once again–just barely–managing to hide behind Charlie, who had just walked in beside her girlfriend. “Hey Shadow–Al?” A startled bleat escaped the woman as Alastor leaped towards her, reaching to catch his shadow and only earning an angelic spear centimeters away from his face.
“What the fuck, Alastor?!” Vaggie hissed, leading Alastor to snap back to reality, folding his arms behind his back and stretching his smile up an almost uncomfortable amount.
By now, the shadow had entangled itself around Charlie, hiding behind her shoulder like a child hiding from his father’s belt. “I simply wish to have a friendly conversation with my shadow, so I will ask you hand him over.”
Now with his temper calmed, Alastor caught sight of Lucifer stepping up to the princess, retracting his horns–must have thought Alastor was going for her instead. And said princess giving Alastor an uncharacteristic scowl. “You’re scaring him, Al.”
You had to be kidding him. “Charlie, my dear. He. Is. A. Shadow.”
“Who doesn’t like you chasing him. If you need him so bad, why don’t you try asking nicely?” She gently nudged Vaggie to the side, shooting her a look that showed she was up to something.
Dear all evil, please let her not be trying to use Alastor as a lesson in this damned hotel.
“Alastor. Apologise to your shadow for being mean. Shadow?” The shadow gave Charlie a surprised look. “You apologise for making Al run all around and chase you when he needed you.”
…Did she know he could not speak?
And yet without the ability for speech, the shadow stretched out from behind Charlie, static emitting from him a low hum–yet a frequency that Alastor knew to be one of submission–dangerously close to an apology.
Alastor supposed it was his turn for an…apology. Bile rose to the back of his throat, smile strained–especially as both fallen angels watched Alastor with gazes that showed he was in for quite the rough week if he dared deny Charlie–or his own shadow.
“Shadow.” He began, loathing the fact that he was doing this–why was he doing this, anyway? “I apologize for not being direct in my ask to return to me.” Upon receiving a glare from Charlie, he groaned. “And for being rude to you.” Still more? She was pushing it. “And…for interrupting whatever it was you were doing flittering about the hotel like that.”
“Al–” Before she could finish her sentence, the shadow made a sound akin to a bugle, curling around Alastor’s body, resting its head against its master’s. “Aww!”
Finally. Strangely, any of the anger he felt towards the shadow seemed to dissipate as it nuzzled into the top of his head, a huff that he wouldn’t dare call fond escaping his lips. “Wretched thing.”
“See? Was that so hard?” Charlie crooned, clearly proud of herself–he supposed being the daughter of Pride incarnate would do that.
“Incredibaly.” He found himself saying, sneering at the shadow that curled itself around his arm, looking at him like a cat trying to convince its owner it was not the one who broke the vase.
He supposed he did not completely and utterly hate his shadow.
But damn it all, it was a little shit.