That earned a quiet laugh. "I wasn't always bitter, you know! When it all first started, I was so angry at the concept of my own falling or... or failing to 'please' some specifics of Heaven that as the first Sinners fell, I wanted nothing more than to accommodate the humans as best as I could."
He reached up to loosen his bow tie. "Now it's... cleaning up a right mess I've made for a couple of centuries. The press conferences and interviews are annoying, but I suppose they deserve to have a few blows before I push back. I can only hope all those TV cameras don't have me putting on 20 pounds, am I right?"
"You needn't go on television at all, if you were to ask me. Nor would I tolerate any disrespect. Whatever you believe you owe Sinners you have begun to repay with your actions instead," Alastor curled his lip, bitter at the idea of being a public punching bag. A king most certainly shouldn't be one.
"No, no. You should make statements when you deem necessary. Release statements you deem important. The Sinners don't understand what is going on and don't yet value what matters most in Hell right now. Fuck them. When they get on board with making their eternal prison better, then they can have a say."
He smirked. "Your concern is touching, but make no mistake: I'm not letting them walk all over me. Not any more. I endure the appearances to remind them that I'm very much alive and well, that I have seen to Adam's demise, and my message is that I will no longer tolerate Heaven's sullying this world it never bothered to try and understand, let alone manage."
Then, a shrug. "Questions involving my personal life are off the table, of course. Let the tabloids starve. I like how they squirm, now that they've run dry of any fresh news from the night the angels arrived. You really should see them struggle sometime, if you can stomach television for but five minutes."
"I have a grand time with the printed tabloids, most certainly. The picturetube may be infuriatingly pervasive, but not all are unwise to its effects," Alastor huffed in amusement.
"Besides, I can always disseminate a little news with my own broadcast," he smirked - last he'd bothered, Vox hadn't been able to stop him from toying with him, then taking over the airwaves. Hah.
"Oh, what fun a broadcast of Adam's final moments would have been, too! Can you imagine? And of course he always has to bring up his genitalia in the last to boot... you really think a man could change in thousands of years, and yeeet..."
"And for all the mercy shown to him, his blowhard shouting got charming miss Niffty's attention! Absolutely perfect. One should never underestimate the little dear."
A chuckle!
"A firm reminder that women are not to be trifled with."
"Ain't that the truth! I wondered what it was that drew you to her, but she is positively scary beyond all reason. And now has Adam to add to her body count!"
A pause. "Was she another human you knew in life, or...?"
"Not at all! The little darlin' came down to Hell in the fifties! She was a twisted, perplexing little creature even back then," Alastor sighed with such clear fondness. "A delightfully insane young lady. And fearless to boot!"
Unlike Mimzy or the other residents of the Hotel, Alastor's fondness for Niffty is as clear as his fondness for Rosie - even with Niffty's blatantly unhinged nature, Alastor finds it easy to trust her and enjoy her presence.
Women could just be easier, like that. Though they could also be worse.
"As it stands, I believe Mimzy is all the company from New Orleans in the era that had made it down here. Hardly surprising - the radio station was full of good, honest folk."
It was clear just seeing them interact that there was a strong bond there. A bond of some form of insanity and being just so curious was a viable connection.
"Ever ponder what it'd be like to speak with any of your old colleagues at all? I do wonder if any of the Sinners and so-called 'Winners' share a desire to catch up, should such a thing be possible."
"No," Alastor answered without hesitation. "No, no, I'd much prefer they live in their peaceful afterlives with the impression of me they had before. None of them need to know the truth about the man who stalked the streets in the dead of the night and made people disappear."
He made a bit of a flourish with his hands to emphasize the last word. "The only ones who knew the truth about me in life all fell down here until I dispatched of the wretches a second and final time."
"We're wretches truly deserving of our place here! Quite fine by me. It's fun to be the monster hunting monsters," Alastor smirked broadly, bloodlust practically radiating off of him. "Ah, but the good times do come to an end. Only ne'er-do-wells that threaten the Hotel are on the menu, these days. Can't be getting distracted, now."
"Ohh, but a beast can fantasize...! I've relived the look on Adam's face and rearranging it like bad ground hamburger on a number of occasions. After the Garden, after dealing with the Embassy meetings, woof..." He fanned himself a little.
"I hadn't been able to cut loose like that in far too long! Maybe I should sport the horns, let the tail loose for a while. Let it be a lit-tle reminder."
"Oh, it feels so good. A reminder to all of your might, and your menace," Alastor agreed with a staticky growl. Being frightening was delightful, being feared and respected for the awe of your might is without compare.
"Never let the masses assume they can make a fool of you ever again."
Oh, that. That was. ...Uhm. There's a tingle up his back from that growl, one that- rather than be a dash of cold water- instead added further kindling to a fire in his belly.
"I hear tell of your many talents in the menacing regard. I recall your show outside the Hotel against those loan sharks, but do feel free to regale me with tales of your finest theatrics."
By all means, Alastor, talk about yourself. This is such a nice outing.
"Weeeell... I like my work to speak for itself, but since you had missed my radio show..." Alastor hummed, his voice slightly peaking its 'speaker'. It certainly added eerieness - as did Alastor's malicious aura making him look even more emaciated, growing out his antlers.
"My debut in Hell, once I had properly constructed a tower from which to broadcast... was in collecting voices. The process is quite easy, not at all different than in life.
"One picks a target, and simply observes. Through shadows, through any communications they used over radio waves, I learned who they were and what they had done. And Overlords are no less competent or confident than a sad man that strikes his wife, or a murderer of children... they think it's safe to walk alone at night.
"Of course, unlike in life, no one learns a lesson if scum simply disappears into the bayou, into the bellies of alligators. No, no. Hell is full of wretches. Those Overlords could serve better than being devoured unceremoniously on the streets. Names that had recognition, names that had caused terror for untold centuries relatively unchallenged... I brought them to the broadcasting station, gave Hell a kind introduction to who our guest of the day was, and started to eat them. Bound by shadows, drained of power, their screams echoed through all of Hell through the radio waves as I ate them piece by piece, keeping them awake and begging for their pathetic existence as I tore their souls into utter shreds and left not a single bite of them behind to regenerate from."
He could hear it now, the jaunty voice, the dance of ragtime in the background as the other voice swore and protested. Then that voice would change the moment they realized there was nothing they could do.
It was about sending a message.
The King applauded... well, as best as he could with his arms full.
"Oohoohoo~ Any you look back on and wonder if maaaybe you could have added a little more sugar on the cream?"
"Oh, aren't there always? A few that had blacked out... I should have forced them back awake, but I'd gotten impatient, or over excited. I should have savored every possible second of their suffering. Every one of those that completely broke under my knife and fork, begging for their Creator as if he would ever save them..."
Alastor chuckled, his voice dropped deeper, his smile impossibly wide.
Oh, he knew the Creator. Finicky guy. Others? Not a clue. But whoever would help the poor Sinners that decided to make this place their little playground and oppress others, abuse their free will...?
Lucifer brought a hand to mask and leaned for a theatrical whisper, perhaps a purr: "...And who tasted the best...?"
"With ease, it was the iguana fellow. He had teeth and horns and frills to spare, but there was such succulent meat once the hide was peeled away... I told him it reminded me of eating gator, back in Louisiana, and I had such a nostalgic little chat about how to best prepare gator."
He chuckles darkly.
"I don't imagine he was paying terribly much attention - he could only form the words to curse my name."
Still-- Alastor paused in their walk, tapping at Lucifer's chest with his mic. "Now what's got you so terribly curious, pal? Hadn't you once said that Sinners are loathesome, violent psychopaths when trying to dissuade dear Charlie?"
He did suddenly wonder what gator was like... was it a universal 'tastes like chicken', or was it like catfish in that it had its own unique category...? Ah, but that's neither here nor there.
The tap had him smirk. "I did! And there are plenty of the lowest of the low living down here in Hell."
He shrugged. "...Yet Charlie sees something in everyone. She sees that second chance for those who want to reach out, and I believe in her and her spirit. While it would be naive to think nobody would ever take advantage of her generosity and kindness, perhaps even use the Hotel for their own means, it certainly never hurts to... ask. Be curious. Get their story."
Lucifer looked up, nudged with an elbow. "...Even yours, even if you don't feel much like checking in, yourself. Why, you've gone above and beyond for my daughter, and for that, I have to... thank you. Sincerely."
Lucifer had brought it up a few times - it'd been something that'd made the king so nervous before, frantically worried about being replaced as a 'father'. But that's changed, hasn't it?
It was an interesting feeling, to be appreciated - at least by someone besides Charlie. Even Charlie was careful not to let herself get too vulnerable around Alastor. He hadn't felt like that quite since he was a living man, and no one knew his misdeeds - yet here Lucifer was, sincere in saying it even after a lengthy conversation about relishing in violence and cannibalism.
"You've given me quite a treat - seeing that the King of Hell isn't just some energetic polka dancer, but is also a fearsome predator lying in wait."
He chuckled. "You'd certainly know what musical ambiance can bring to a deadly situation, but you really should hear how an accordion can add some ominous undertones to a tune sometime!"
But Lucifer had gone quiet. A treat, huh...?
"...Say..."
Oh boy, how should he go about this?
"I don't entirely have any exchange in mind just yet, but perhaps what you've accomplished so far has rather earned something, would it not?"
Lucifer Morningstar, let's not beat around the damned bush. But talk had been planting a seed in his brain that had begun rapidly growing into a curiosity!
"You've had Exorcist, yes, but surely... seraphim... must be better?"
...He was serious. Alastor's mind flashed back to that night they'd had dinner together, the king's face at being teased for being possibly delicious.
And yet here he was, offering it as a treat.
"Really now! You'd offer me your body for a reward? Even in part? Fascinating," he mused, pinching Lucifer's arm like he was gauging the meat on the bone. "And quite funny - I would indulge but alas, I think Charlie would be quite cross with me if her father came home from Cannibal Town missing any appendages," he bemused, 'affectionately' patting Lucifer's head.
Pinch all you want, Giraffe. This is Grade-A prime (fallen) seraphim! But he had to think about 'offering his body as a reward'... just not too long, or he may need to head home for a little break and soak his head.
But the King grinned. "Now, now...! I like my appendages, thank you very much, and you would be right. Charlie has enough to worry about. How-e-ver..."
With a flourish of a wrist, a roll of his fingers, his haul had drawn back a sleeve to reveal a smoky wrist, its odd gradient before its gradual fade to marble white.
"What's a little blood between friends, eh? Color me curious on if mine's different from the likes of these blood-thirsty harpies that pestered my realm like a cloud of gnats each year, led by that bloated windbag! I mean, it must, right?"
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sugaronthecream) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
divinetree2024-04-01 08:17 am
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He reached up to loosen his bow tie. "Now it's... cleaning up a right mess I've made for a couple of centuries. The press conferences and interviews are annoying, but I suppose they deserve to have a few blows before I push back. I can only hope all those TV cameras don't have me putting on 20 pounds, am I right?"
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"No, no. You should make statements when you deem necessary. Release statements you deem important. The Sinners don't understand what is going on and don't yet value what matters most in Hell right now. Fuck them. When they get on board with making their eternal prison better, then they can have a say."
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Then, a shrug. "Questions involving my personal life are off the table, of course. Let the tabloids starve. I like how they squirm, now that they've run dry of any fresh news from the night the angels arrived. You really should see them struggle sometime, if you can stomach television for but five minutes."
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"Besides, I can always disseminate a little news with my own broadcast," he smirked - last he'd bothered, Vox hadn't been able to stop him from toying with him, then taking over the airwaves. Hah.
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"Oh, what fun a broadcast of Adam's final moments would have been, too! Can you imagine? And of course he always has to bring up his genitalia in the last to boot... you really think a man could change in thousands of years, and yeeet..."
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A chuckle!
"A firm reminder that women are not to be trifled with."
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A pause. "Was she another human you knew in life, or...?"
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Unlike Mimzy or the other residents of the Hotel, Alastor's fondness for Niffty is as clear as his fondness for Rosie - even with Niffty's blatantly unhinged nature, Alastor finds it easy to trust her and enjoy her presence.
Women could just be easier, like that. Though they could also be worse.
"As it stands, I believe Mimzy is all the company from New Orleans in the era that had made it down here. Hardly surprising - the radio station was full of good, honest folk."
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"Ever ponder what it'd be like to speak with any of your old colleagues at all? I do wonder if any of the Sinners and so-called 'Winners' share a desire to catch up, should such a thing be possible."
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He made a bit of a flourish with his hands to emphasize the last word. "The only ones who knew the truth about me in life all fell down here until I dispatched of the wretches a second and final time."
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"Me, I'm more the 'it was me and you won't forget it' type. Then again, that's why I'm down here and not up top, eh?"
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"I hadn't been able to cut loose like that in far too long! Maybe I should sport the horns, let the tail loose for a while. Let it be a lit-tle reminder."
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"Never let the masses assume they can make a fool of you ever again."
no subject
"I hear tell of your many talents in the menacing regard. I recall your show outside the Hotel against those loan sharks, but do feel free to regale me with tales of your finest theatrics."
By all means, Alastor, talk about yourself. This is such a nice outing.
no subject
"My debut in Hell, once I had properly constructed a tower from which to broadcast... was in collecting voices. The process is quite easy, not at all different than in life.
"One picks a target, and simply observes. Through shadows, through any communications they used over radio waves, I learned who they were and what they had done. And Overlords are no less competent or confident than a sad man that strikes his wife, or a murderer of children... they think it's safe to walk alone at night.
"Of course, unlike in life, no one learns a lesson if scum simply disappears into the bayou, into the bellies of alligators. No, no. Hell is full of wretches. Those Overlords could serve better than being devoured unceremoniously on the streets. Names that had recognition, names that had caused terror for untold centuries relatively unchallenged... I brought them to the broadcasting station, gave Hell a kind introduction to who our guest of the day was, and started to eat them. Bound by shadows, drained of power, their screams echoed through all of Hell through the radio waves as I ate them piece by piece, keeping them awake and begging for their pathetic existence as I tore their souls into utter shreds and left not a single bite of them behind to regenerate from."
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It was about sending a message.
The King applauded... well, as best as he could with his arms full.
"Oohoohoo~ Any you look back on and wonder if maaaybe you could have added a little more sugar on the cream?"
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Alastor chuckled, his voice dropped deeper, his smile impossibly wide.
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Lucifer brought a hand to mask and leaned for a theatrical whisper, perhaps a purr: "...And who tasted the best...?"
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He chuckles darkly.
"I don't imagine he was paying terribly much attention - he could only form the words to curse my name."
Still-- Alastor paused in their walk, tapping at Lucifer's chest with his mic. "Now what's got you so terribly curious, pal? Hadn't you once said that Sinners are loathesome, violent psychopaths when trying to dissuade dear Charlie?"
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The tap had him smirk. "I did! And there are plenty of the lowest of the low living down here in Hell."
He shrugged. "...Yet Charlie sees something in everyone. She sees that second chance for those who want to reach out, and I believe in her and her spirit. While it would be naive to think nobody would ever take advantage of her generosity and kindness, perhaps even use the Hotel for their own means, it certainly never hurts to... ask. Be curious. Get their story."
Lucifer looked up, nudged with an elbow. "...Even yours, even if you don't feel much like checking in, yourself. Why, you've gone above and beyond for my daughter, and for that, I have to... thank you. Sincerely."
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It was an interesting feeling, to be appreciated - at least by someone besides Charlie. Even Charlie was careful not to let herself get too vulnerable around Alastor. He hadn't felt like that quite since he was a living man, and no one knew his misdeeds - yet here Lucifer was, sincere in saying it even after a lengthy conversation about relishing in violence and cannibalism.
"You've given me quite a treat - seeing that the King of Hell isn't just some energetic polka dancer, but is also a fearsome predator lying in wait."
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But Lucifer had gone quiet. A treat, huh...?
"...Say..."
Oh boy, how should he go about this?
"I don't entirely have any exchange in mind just yet, but perhaps what you've accomplished so far has rather earned something, would it not?"
Lucifer Morningstar, let's not beat around the damned bush. But talk had been planting a seed in his brain that had begun rapidly growing into a curiosity!
"You've had Exorcist, yes, but surely... seraphim... must be better?"
no subject
And yet here he was, offering it as a treat.
"Really now! You'd offer me your body for a reward? Even in part? Fascinating," he mused, pinching Lucifer's arm like he was gauging the meat on the bone. "And quite funny - I would indulge but alas, I think Charlie would be quite cross with me if her father came home from Cannibal Town missing any appendages," he bemused, 'affectionately' patting Lucifer's head.
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But the King grinned. "Now, now...! I like my appendages, thank you very much, and you would be right. Charlie has enough to worry about. How-e-ver..."
With a flourish of a wrist, a roll of his fingers, his haul had drawn back a sleeve to reveal a smoky wrist, its odd gradient before its gradual fade to marble white.
"What's a little blood between friends, eh? Color me curious on if mine's different from the likes of these blood-thirsty harpies that pestered my realm like a cloud of gnats each year, led by that bloated windbag! I mean, it must, right?"
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