Chapter Text
Alastor let out a long, contented sigh as he locked the door to his room behind him. His home cooked meal went down well, once everyone got over their brief panic that he might have been a cannibal that is. He really needed to make a note to remind himself to look into why Angel-Dust had assumed that. Maybe he should get a closer look at this ‘Cannibal Town’ soon? See if he should add it to his fictional backstory.
What exactly about his look gave them that idea? Angel-Dust had said something about his smile hadn't he?
Alastor had made a point of not letting his smile drop when wearing his disguise, purely because he had learnt from experience that a smile was a perfect way to mask your emotions. That lesson was firmly instilled into his mind at a very young age: A smile is a valuable tool. If you know how to wield it effectively, it hides your true intent, and makes sure you always have the upper hand. Despite his feelings towards the man who taught it to him, those words had always stuck with him.
Alastor had seen evidence of it being used all his life. The way his father manipulated everyone around him. How the white executives would smile sharply at him at the station, clearly not happy that a man of his means was their most popular host. In the way his darling mother would smile at him during their worst nights. He'd believed her smile without question, until he was old enough to look closer, and noticed that the smile didn't always reach her eyes. He saw and he adapted, learning by example the importance of a smiling mask to hide behind.
He hadn't needed to utilize that skill much in heaven. Apart from reassuring his mother, he didn't often get into situations where he needed to don his well-worn mask. It probably said a lot about him, but when he needed to blend in down in literal Hell, he'd seamlessly fallen back into old habits from when he was alive; hide his accent, tuck his emotions away behind a distracting smile, act as if he belonged there as much as anyone else.
A finger idly traced the enchantment runes along the ring that let him disguise himself as a sinner. If only things had been so simple when he was alive. With a small chuckle at the thought, he removed the ring and tucked it safely in his waistcoat pocket.
The swirl of his mothers magic washed over him, green tinted shadows shifting into blue light as it left him, warm and calming, like a fleeting comfort.
He could relax now, no need to hide his true self when he was in the safety and privacy of his own room.
It wasn't that his sinner form was uncomfortable, but like the smile, it was just another tool he needed to use. A part of the performance he needed to put on to hide himself away. He stretched out his wings, hearing the joints make a satisfying pop after being tucked away for the whole day. It felt good to be able to unmask and be himself at the end of the day.
And speaking of being comfortable, he grabbed his journal and pen from the desk, before heading into the part of the room he'd conjured last night.
Unable to drift off to sleep in the wee hours of the morning, he had longed for something familiar. A small piece of normality despite feeling so out of place. He hadn't made the conscious decision to summon it, but the painfully familiar location had been exactly what he'd needed to feel more at home.
The bayou was a little slice of his human life that he had never let drift far from his mind. Everything was recreated just as he had remembered it when he was alive, being surrounded by nostalgia always helped clear his head when his thoughts were being too loud.
Very early into his afterlife Alastor had learned how to project his powers outwards, to create a little pocket of existence that was tactile. This was the first thing he'd ever conjured, and it was comforting, despite the memory it was attached to.
His feet sank slightly into the ground as he passed the threshold of magic, where the hardwood floor of the hotel room transitioned to the familiar bayou floor.
The majority of the room had been replaced with the expanse of forest. Despite the time of day outside, the wooded area was bathed in perpetual twilight, casting blue and purple shadows on everything.
The tall trees were a mix of olive greens, yellows and light brown, a snapshot of mid autumn. Vines and leaves drooped down from the canopy above, like curtains framing the thick trunks that lined the clearing.
He settled down on the soft grass to write down what new information he'd learnt about hell in his journal.
Death wasn't permanent in Hell. There was a chance Niffty was lying of course, or making a joke, but he felt inclined to believe her at face value about this. The information was delivered to him so casually, as if it was common knowledge and the most mundane fact in the world. Alastor was still disturbed by the idea of it.
Never, in close to a century of his afterlife, had he thought about the mortality of what he presumed to be his immortal soul. He supposed it made sense; Sinners were meant to suffer after all. A permanent death might be considered the easy way out if the option was available to them. It didn't make the idea of dying over and over again any less horrific.
Alastor could only assume that angelic steel had a different effect on a human soul than normal weapons, because he didn't know why else sinners would use them. He needed to get confirmation of that from Charlie. But it begged the question: was the same true of winners? If Alastor died here in hell - because a Sinner didn't see it as a big deal - would he stay dead? Or would he come back? Would he still be able to return to heaven?
He worried at his lips to the point he felt it split, and quickly stopped before he could make it worse. This really wasn't going anywhere. He had to wait to find out, Charlie was the one who would be able to give him the answers.
His eyes roamed over to his desk, where his radio sat proud, the lights of it flickering slightly at his glance, as if preparing to spring to life. He could ask his mother if she'd ever heard of someone in heaven dying and recovering. But he didn't want to worry her about it until he had the facts straight.
Maybe he should contact her just to check in? He was well aware he was a hypocrite, telling her not to worry about him, when he was concerned about her getting in trouble with the Seraphim. But maybe she could give him more answers? No, he should be more patient before contacting her again, they hadn't spoken that long ago. Still, he couldn't help but wonder; had his mother had found out anything about the presumed exorsist that always hung around Adam yet?
With a sigh, he thought back to the fact that the Princess's girlfriend wielded a spear made with angelic steel, and how eager she had been to threaten him. If his suspicion was correct, then that was a dangerous thing for someone with clear anger issues to carry. Charlie must have a lot of faith in her partner to wield such a weapon responsibly. He added it to the list of things he wanted to discuss with the princess.
Putting the journal aside, he lay back on the grass, one hand tucked behind his head, and stared up at the artificial twilight sky. This day had been a lot to take in. But as disturbing as what happened this morning was, there was a moment at the butchers that troubled him almost as much.
It couldn't have been more than a few seconds, but there was a blank spot in his memory. He remembered getting angry, remembered threatening the butcher. But he couldn't recall the moment Niffty had been released and lunged for the bull sinner.
He had seen red, literally, in his anger. Had heard that crack again that he'd noticed a couple of times now since being in Hell. And shadows. He vaguely remembered a rush of shadows around him.
Alastor let his eyes drift to the canopy above him, the trees encircling the glade swayed slightly even though there was no actual breeze. The dim light filtered through the leaves, leaving scattered shadows on everything below. He remembered the odd interaction with Niffty in the kitchen.
The small sinner had waved at nothing, and out of the corner of his eye, Alastor could have sworn he saw the shadow of something waving back at her. It had been too big, and moved too enthusiastically, to be her own shadow. They had been alone, and his own hands had been occupied with the meal prep at the time, there was nothing that could have cast such a shadow.
Rolling onto his side, he curiously glanced down at his shadow cast lightly against the grass and pages of his journal. Slowly, Alastor raised his hand and gave an experimental little wave, only to immediately feel foolish about it. The shadow acted exactly as he expected it would, completely normal, with nothing out of the ordinary. Perhaps he'd imagined it earlier? Or else Niffty had some power that affected it?
Lately, every time he had tried to come up with answers, more questions only took their place. Lost in thought, he jumped when there was a sudden knock at the door.
“One moment!” Alastor called, quickly retrieving the ring as he rushed for the door. He swore he skipped a few steps as the shadows swirled around him, seeming to reach the door quicker than he should have, once again cloaked in his sinner disguise.
He opened the door with a wide grin to greet the person on the other side, relieved when he saw it was only Charlie. “Ah, just the person I wanted to have a word with.”
“Hi. I just wanted to talk to you about this morning?” Charlie said with a nervous smile glancing down the corridor as if she was expecting to be followed or eavesdropped on. “Would you mind if I came in for a quick chat?”
“Not at all, please, come on in.” He opened the door and stepped aside for her to pass, locking the door behind. “I was actually hoping to clear up some things I learnt this morning aswell.” He admitted, reaching up to remove the ring again, before hesitating. “Do you mind if I?” He gestured to the ring, and waited for her to indicate it was fine before removing it.
Charlie watched with interest as the sinner form was swept away by the shadows and lights, leaving behind the winner that she had first met at the embassy. “It's actually nice to see the real you again, you seem more relaxed like this.”
“Well, it is nice to be in company you feel you can be yourself around.” Alastor smiled, a genuine smile, complimenting her as someone he felt he could do that with. She already knew him as he was, he had no need to hide anything from her that he wasn't hiding from the rest of heaven. “Let me just get my journal so we can go over some of my notes.” He stepped away from the door, but paused when he heard a small gasp come from the princess.
Turning back to see what she was reacting to, Alastor noticed that she wasn't looking at him at all. Her eyes were slightly wide and she was looking over his shoulder. He looked back at the bayou, before giving a nervous little chuckle.
“I, uh. I'm afraid I may have made myself a bit too at home… The room is still intact underneath, I promise, in case you were worried about damage.” He felt a little silly now, maybe he should have asked if it was okay to do something like this first? It was her Hotel after all. In his defense, he hadn't intended to summon his comfort place last night. “Maybe I should just banish it.” He said sheepishly, lifting his hands to dismiss his magic, only to be stopped by a sudden outburst.
“Don’t! I mean. You don't have to. Al, this place is beautiful.” Charlie's voice was full of awe as she tentatively stepped foot onto the grass, amazed at how the ground gave slightly under her weight. “Is this a real place?”
“It's a recreation of somewhere I spent a lot of time when I was alive.” Alastor confirmed, relieved that Charlie seemed impressed and curious instead of judgmental. “I'm afraid I can be a little too sentimental sometimes. I've never really been able to leave this place behind.”
Alastor positioned himself carefully in the glade, standing in a way that blocked Charlie from getting a good look at a very specific patch of wild flowers and daisy's, one's that seemed to be thriving more than the others.
“There isn't anything like this in Hell. Or, well, definitely not in pride at any rate.” Charlie sighed, taking in all the details she could, spinning around slowly to get the full view.
“It's a Louisiana Bayou. Ever since I was a boy I would spend as much time as I could out here. I never really grew out of it even into adulthood.” Alastor's eyes lingered on a certain spot for a long moment, hoping she wouldn't work out the significance of it, before turning back to her with an easy smile. “When I found out I could do this, it was the first place I was able to conjure up. It's so much a second nature at this point, that I don't even think about it.”
“Growing up, my parents used to have this huge beautiful garden. It wasn't anything as vibrant as this, but they did what they could… Dad kinda let it get overgrown and fall apart after mom left.” Charlie sighed, getting lost in her own thoughts for a moment before suddenly jolting and looking back up at Alastor. “Oh! Wait, we're getting distracted.” She looked down at the journal on the floor, before seeming to get an idea.
Snapping her fingers, Charlie's eyes lit up with a beaming smile, summoning a fluffy red and white blanket. She lay out on the floor like a picnic, before sitting down on it and patting the spot next to her, for Alastor to sit with her.
Amused, Alastor followed her down, scooping up his journal as he took a seat on the soft blanket. “Now then. About this morning.” He started, opening his journal to his page of notes, ready to start explaining what happened at the butchers.