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Summary
Alastor watched with rapt attention as the demon came to, its strange head glancing and swiveling around, metal-tipped claws raised in confusion or disbelief.
Then, it spoke. "Wh— what the fuck?"
Its voice vibrated in a way not completely dissimilar to one from a radio's speaker, but it held a different sort of static lacing through it. Crisper, more refined. Yet it still possessed an edge, like a deceptive blade, more deadly than it's wielder expected.
Well, Alastor loved nothing more that to draw blood.
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Human Alastor summons demon Vox, and Vox finds his greatest desire within his grasp.
