ontheair: (4166891)

[personal profile] ontheair 2024-03-18 11:09 pm (UTC)(link)
The only indication that Alastor felt any pain from Vox jabbing at that particular spot, is a tiny pop of static in the air, and the barest narrowing of his eyes. It feels like fire, an infuriating weakness, but all the pain does is motivate him further to get this done.

"I have already told you why, a pity if you didn't listen."

He reaches up and catches hold of that jabbing finger, the first voluntary contact he's made with Vox in many years.

"My current plans do not include a wish for destabilisation. Now that Extermination Day has passed, the eye of judgement will fall closer to home. I will be blunt, if I may? Valentino's days are numbered, and only I can do something to change that."
ontheair: (Default)

[personal profile] ontheair 2024-03-19 10:08 pm (UTC)(link)
And there it was.

Alastor's smile turns sharp and deadly, a predator on the hunt, and the low hum of radio static surrounds him as regards his old rival.

"Naturally I would expect some compensation for putting forward such considerable effort-- what do you say to a little Deal? Oh, don't look at me like that, nothing too onerous. In return for the Vees receiving my protection with our royalty, you will agree to do some work for the hotel. Under my authority."
ontheair: (pic#17059840)

[personal profile] ontheair 2024-03-21 08:38 pm (UTC)(link)
The barb does its job, digging in deep. Not even necessarily because he ran, Alastor would rather survive above all else, but because his vulnerability and weakness had been witnessed.

A low buzzing hum fills the air, shadows seem to grow a bit darker on the ground, but the moment of danger passes before it can be truly harnessed.

"If you're not interested, I shall leave you to your fates with my apologies for wasting what little time you have left."
ontheair: (al079)

[personal profile] ontheair 2024-03-21 09:21 pm (UTC)(link)
The claws in his shoulder seem, for a moment, to go completely unnoticed and unremarked upon... before tentacles suddenly erupt from shadow beneath them in an attempt to skewer the offending arm in multiple places.

"Excellent."

His tone is at odds with the way his antlers have lengthened slightly, with the way he is shredding that arm that dared to touch him. He holds his own hand out, the glow of green energy swirling around his claws slowly.

"Then we have a deal?"
ontheair: (pic#17059842)

[personal profile] ontheair 2024-03-25 12:16 am (UTC)(link)
Aha-- no.

Alastor pulls his hand back sharply before any contact can be made, a small warning buzz of static and a flash of radio dials in his eyes, he's not about to agree to such damning new wording of the deal. Support the Vees as such a generic statement? Ha. No.

"In exchange for my support of Valentino's continual survival, you will support the Princess' hotel under my management."

Now he offers his hand again.
ontheair: (al048)

[personal profile] ontheair 2024-03-25 01:11 am (UTC)(link)
He can respect Vox for at least attempting to haggle with him, most are too intimidated by the time a Deal is ready to be struck. But he still cannot agree to that changed wording, mostly because he has no control over what the Vees do themselves and how their actions might get them onto Lucifer's radar.

"Should the Vees appear on Lucifer's radar, I will use what influence I have to ensure any retaliation is non-lethal, and in return you will assist with the Hotel under my leadership for as long as I am helping with it."

Vox doesn't need to know that Alastor's influence with Lucifer is literally less than zero, and in fact if he said not to hurt the Vees then the King might annihilate them just to annoy Alastor.
ontheair: (pic#17059836)

[personal profile] ontheair 2024-03-25 12:41 pm (UTC)(link)
Perfect.

There’s a burst of energy as the Deal is made, voodoo green and crackles of electric blue collide, two powerful Overlords in one binding contract. The air smells acrid, like burned out wires, and Alastor feels a part of him internally rejoice. This is one of the best days of his afterlife and if he were the sort to skip, then he might very well skip back to the hotel in delight.

Instead, his smile only grows to the point where it's nearly splitting his face in two, stitches seeming to hold it high at the edges.

"When you report to the hotel tomorrow at nine, do make sure to call me sir."

Ha! And with that last jab at the fact Vox foolishly agreed to work under Alastor's leadership, he melts down into shadow and disappears.