He snickered a bit as Vaggie departed, and he remained rooted for the time behind to note how... quiet... it is.
Made sense. People didn't really buy this whole thing. He wondered how many were here for the free room and board. Waste of resources, if they weren't actually going to try. Hilarious, if you asked him, but he was part of a Deal and that was far, far bigger than how much he wanted to piss himself laughing at the idea of sinners actually getting a second shot.
Like... him?? No way in HELL he was going up. What would you even DO for him? Alastor??? How would he get a hot ticket to the pearly gates? Laughable!
He whirled on a heel and quietly moved back the way he came. No, he was gonna do a little helpful snooping. He hadn't been lying when he said he had concerns with the state of the room. Goetia magic had permanence. Sinner magic...? Limits. Too many limits. Proximity was one of them.
A ping rang between his antennae and he lifted his head a bit. He grinned.
She thought about it pretty hard for a minute, at least! I should have made a wager on how soon she'd whip that thing out.
Surely she made herself your shadow for a time, too! Persistent, hilarious. She's the easiest to stress out if you seem just a bit too scheming and nefarious.
A chuckle. Alastor was stirring at the roux, getting the gumbo started up now so all of the flavors had plenty of time to settle in by dinnertime - he'd have those Vees enamored with his cooking. It'd be funny to see Vox feel vexed about how easily Alastor could win them over.
At least Charlie knows to be cautious even with her ridiculous optimism. What a LAUGH her ridiculous exercises are!
Vox paused to check around. Don't mind him, just looking to pop into the freaky swamp room. Maybe Vaggie was honest on what was inside, but hey- it neeever hurt to be sure.
The guests are doing me a favor right now keeping the ladies occupied. I'm just seeing what I'm working with, here.
God, one could practically hear Alastor laughing, even if he didn't broadcast it.
I told you so. Good luck!
Blissfully ignorant that Vox was intending to snoop on his room. Following Alastor's signal was a tiny blip of one.
Forwarded her little parroting, she's noticed we're chatting.
Enjoy the room - it's swampy, the wall that once held the fireplace and mantel is gone now that Alastor moved it to his current room... but there still remains a few collections. Bones, sewing kits, dolls... the vanity where he kept most things. A vintage whiskey and some glasses. The little roach crown that Niffty made him.
He deeefinitely had a laugh there. Vox could feel it in his wires. Despite the flat, unimpressed stare, he worked the door open and stepped inside.
Creepy stuff, creepy stuff, more creepy stuff... heh, dolls. Did he make any of the Hotel resi--
Wow... there really was just a whole entire fucking swamp in here. Cautiously, he ran two cables down to the floor to tap the borderline between floor and grass. Huh. The power was... stable. Even the lines didn't have so much as a wobble, like two worlds swaying and meshing together.
Alastor was powerful, but Vox knew that Rosie was to thank for it. Again, the media demon had to wonder: What the fuck ARE you, Rosie...???
He stepped further, into grass. He hadn't felt that underfoot in... a long time. Arms crossed behind his back, he had himself a look around. How far does it go-
There was a blip. Vox's head snapped higher, and his arms fell slack as his eyes widened.
Hi!!!
It was immediate, unfiltered: Motes of joy, curiosity, an underlying current of fondness coloring an almost uncharacteristically perky message.
...A perkiness that was soundly interrupted when he felt something cold and wet suck up to his right ankle. "Jesus- fuck--"
He looked down. The lapse of attention had earned him a step into a rather squashy patch of moss and muddy earth, sodden with swamp water and muck. Swearing vehemently under his breath, he stumbled back a step or two, his right shoe giving a nice little squish with each. The first inch or two of his pant leg was mucked.
"Oh come the fuck ON, are you KIDDING ME--" SIGHHHH. He hopped to a stump to have a sit, and started yanking off that shoe, hiked up that pant leg to work the sock garter undone. Maybe he can find some clean water here and give both the sock and shoe a dunk, just deal with the squishies for a while... until he could get Ethan to run up a replacement pair of socks and shoes, anyway--
...
The fuck was a vanity doing way out here...?
...Wait...
With one shoe-covered foot and a bare, he stood and tread instead to the strange vanity.
Sure enough, it was kept - free of dust, even if unplugged, the wires neatly wound and tied with a thread to keep from tangling. The same old wires from the day he received it. The same old note that Vox had written on the bottom for him.
Tucked away, deep in the marsh in a room that no one else would dare barge their way through (usually).
A lock box, an ash tray - most of what was on the top, Alastor likely got for himself. But in the drawers were other little trophies and gifts... things collected from time with Mimzy, time with Vox, time with Niffty - even given their decades long spat, Alastor never let go of the past they shared.
Vox couldn't help himself, feeling a little twist in his chest. Lockboxes were such simple matters for a creature of his make, and there was where he found photographs.
So many photographs.
It was enough that his hands shook a bit by the time he closed it up again. Set it down again. Nudged it into the place it precisely was before. His reflection in the mirror struck him: His screen had gone to snow, eyes wide as saucers, and the display was struggling to refresh.
Trap? ...No... not in Al's personal chambers.
I chose you.
It hurt.
His stomach hurt.
He turned, and even holding a muddied shoe and sock, he made a beeline for the door out. He would shut it all tight, lock it up.
Then, he would lean a hand on the wall in the hall. He needed a minute. Or several.
None the wiser, Alastor was still home - still cooking as he simmered the chopped vegetables and browned the slices of sausage. Humming, pondering to himself how funny it would be seeing Vox coming home either groaning in annoyance or all too haughty that he totally has this.
A blip. Then another, and another - almost like babbling signal, trying to replicate the words their parents were exchanging.
She's turning out to be even chattier than you. Not even born and she'll be keeping us awake all night, I'm sure.
Were he not given the information he held, it would have been a deeper shock, a titanic confusion of why that rejection happened decades ago. Instead, as his guts swirled with turmoil, he began to begrudgingly accept that he would indeed have tried to march into Cannibal Town to kill Rosie himself. Small, weak, pathetic Vincent with his CRT head, still so green, would have been crushed without a thought.
But today, and over and over since the day Alastor had moved in, all Vox wanted to do was pool absolutely every resource he had and completely crush the bitch. It was her fault. She'd instilled an apprehension, a fear in the man he'd grown to admire, enough to deprive them both of something they wanted. Well... perhaps he didn't want a partnership, but Vox was certain that Al didn't want to torpedo good companionship.
The first blip made his stomach clench further, but he latched onto the signal. Vox took a breath, pushed away from the wall, and slowly rolled his fingers. Steady... steady, now...
He had a job to do, one that could be the answer to everything. If he faltered, then that was the ball game.
If he failed and let people down, he'd be no better than his own old man.
Another breath.
Well, you know me- I keep all-nighters all the time. Besides, there's your sign they're mine. No strong silent types here!
A little bit of a pause, there, before Vox's response. Enough to make Alastor's eyebrow quirk - but assume he must be juggling Vaggie or the guests already.
She'll probably pick up spanish from your little friend brilliantly. I'll have to brush up, myself - it'd be pretty funny to keep secrets from you right in front of your face~
Maybe he could provoke Vox to lose his composure in front of a guest - hilarious! Ahh, if only he was there to see the fruits of his bullying...
What, you think I can't pick up Spanish?? I thought my French was pretty good, too!
Let's just send a message to Ethan here... new shoes, a pair of socks. It wasn't unusual- sometimes an acid rain sneaked up on you or he'd tread in a puddle that was a little deeper than anticipated. ...Or some vomit.
...Or a used condom...
God, Hell was disgusting.
Hell, why don't I come up with an encrypted channel that'll take you ages to crack while I give the pup the worst jokes to ambush you with...?
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sugaronthecream) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
divinetree2025-10-07 08:11 pm
no subject
"She'll be right with you, pal...! Swing on downstairs in an hour or so if you're feeling peckish."
no subject
God, the place is quiet and dull for being brand new and having guests. Then again, who really wants a hotel that's hard to sleep in?
At least it makes receiving a transmission a lot easier.
So, did Vagatha brandish her spear immediately in suspicion? She did, didn't she?
no subject
Made sense. People didn't really buy this whole thing. He wondered how many were here for the free room and board. Waste of resources, if they weren't actually going to try. Hilarious, if you asked him, but he was part of a Deal and that was far, far bigger than how much he wanted to piss himself laughing at the idea of sinners actually getting a second shot.
Like... him?? No way in HELL he was going up. What would you even DO for him? Alastor??? How would he get a hot ticket to the pearly gates? Laughable!
He whirled on a heel and quietly moved back the way he came. No, he was gonna do a little helpful snooping. He hadn't been lying when he said he had concerns with the state of the room. Goetia magic had permanence. Sinner magic...? Limits. Too many limits. Proximity was one of them.
A ping rang between his antennae and he lifted his head a bit. He grinned.
She thought about it pretty hard for a minute, at least! I should have made a wager on how soon she'd whip that thing out.
no subject
A chuckle. Alastor was stirring at the roux, getting the gumbo started up now so all of the flavors had plenty of time to settle in by dinnertime - he'd have those Vees enamored with his cooking. It'd be funny to see Vox feel vexed about how easily Alastor could win them over.
At least Charlie knows to be cautious even with her ridiculous optimism. What a LAUGH her ridiculous exercises are!
no subject
Vox paused to check around. Don't mind him, just looking to pop into the freaky swamp room. Maybe Vaggie was honest on what was inside, but hey- it neeever hurt to be sure.
The guests are doing me a favor right now keeping the ladies occupied. I'm just seeing what I'm working with, here.
And yes, they mentioned the... toilets...
no subject
I told you so. Good luck!
Blissfully ignorant that Vox was intending to snoop on his room. Following Alastor's signal was a tiny blip of one.
Forwarded her little parroting, she's noticed we're chatting.
Enjoy the room - it's swampy, the wall that once held the fireplace and mantel is gone now that Alastor moved it to his current room... but there still remains a few collections. Bones, sewing kits, dolls... the vanity where he kept most things. A vintage whiskey and some glasses. The little roach crown that Niffty made him.
A certain pill microphone.
no subject
Creepy stuff, creepy stuff, more creepy stuff... heh, dolls. Did he make any of the Hotel resi--
Wow... there really was just a whole entire fucking swamp in here. Cautiously, he ran two cables down to the floor to tap the borderline between floor and grass. Huh. The power was... stable. Even the lines didn't have so much as a wobble, like two worlds swaying and meshing together.
Alastor was powerful, but Vox knew that Rosie was to thank for it. Again, the media demon had to wonder: What the fuck ARE you, Rosie...???
He stepped further, into grass. He hadn't felt that underfoot in... a long time. Arms crossed behind his back, he had himself a look around. How far does it go-
There was a blip. Vox's head snapped higher, and his arms fell slack as his eyes widened.
Hi!!!
It was immediate, unfiltered: Motes of joy, curiosity, an underlying current of fondness coloring an almost uncharacteristically perky message.
...A perkiness that was soundly interrupted when he felt something cold and wet suck up to his right ankle. "Jesus- fuck--"
He looked down. The lapse of attention had earned him a step into a rather squashy patch of moss and muddy earth, sodden with swamp water and muck. Swearing vehemently under his breath, he stumbled back a step or two, his right shoe giving a nice little squish with each. The first inch or two of his pant leg was mucked.
"Oh come the fuck ON, are you KIDDING ME--" SIGHHHH. He hopped to a stump to have a sit, and started yanking off that shoe, hiked up that pant leg to work the sock garter undone. Maybe he can find some clean water here and give both the sock and shoe a dunk, just deal with the squishies for a while... until he could get Ethan to run up a replacement pair of socks and shoes, anyway--
...
The fuck was a vanity doing way out here...?
...Wait...
With one shoe-covered foot and a bare, he stood and tread instead to the strange vanity.
Stared at it a while.
He... kept it...?
no subject
Tucked away, deep in the marsh in a room that no one else would dare barge their way through (usually).
A lock box, an ash tray - most of what was on the top, Alastor likely got for himself. But in the drawers were other little trophies and gifts... things collected from time with Mimzy, time with Vox, time with Niffty - even given their decades long spat, Alastor never let go of the past they shared.
no subject
Vox couldn't help himself, feeling a little twist in his chest. Lockboxes were such simple matters for a creature of his make, and there was where he found photographs.
So many photographs.
It was enough that his hands shook a bit by the time he closed it up again. Set it down again. Nudged it into the place it precisely was before. His reflection in the mirror struck him: His screen had gone to snow, eyes wide as saucers, and the display was struggling to refresh.
Trap? ...No... not in Al's personal chambers.
I chose you.
It hurt.
His stomach hurt.
He turned, and even holding a muddied shoe and sock, he made a beeline for the door out. He would shut it all tight, lock it up.
Then, he would lean a hand on the wall in the hall. He needed a minute. Or several.
no subject
A blip. Then another, and another - almost like babbling signal, trying to replicate the words their parents were exchanging.
She's turning out to be even chattier than you. Not even born and she'll be keeping us awake all night, I'm sure.
no subject
But today, and over and over since the day Alastor had moved in, all Vox wanted to do was pool absolutely every resource he had and completely crush the bitch. It was her fault. She'd instilled an apprehension, a fear in the man he'd grown to admire, enough to deprive them both of something they wanted. Well... perhaps he didn't want a partnership, but Vox was certain that Al didn't want to torpedo good companionship.
The first blip made his stomach clench further, but he latched onto the signal. Vox took a breath, pushed away from the wall, and slowly rolled his fingers. Steady... steady, now...
He had a job to do, one that could be the answer to everything. If he faltered, then that was the ball game.
If he failed and let people down, he'd be no better than his own old man.
Another breath.
Well, you know me- I keep all-nighters all the time. Besides, there's your sign they're mine. No strong silent types here!
no subject
She'll probably pick up spanish from your little friend brilliantly. I'll have to brush up, myself - it'd be pretty funny to keep secrets from you right in front of your face~
Maybe he could provoke Vox to lose his composure in front of a guest - hilarious! Ahh, if only he was there to see the fruits of his bullying...
no subject
What, you think I can't pick up Spanish?? I thought my French was pretty good, too!
Let's just send a message to Ethan here... new shoes, a pair of socks. It wasn't unusual- sometimes an acid rain sneaked up on you or he'd tread in a puddle that was a little deeper than anticipated. ...Or some vomit.
...Or a used condom...
God, Hell was disgusting.
Hell, why don't I come up with an encrypted channel that'll take you ages to crack while I give the pup the worst jokes to ambush you with...?
no subject
As if you could keep me out forever! Besides, I'm far better at thinking on my feet than you, dear.
Pip, pip--
"Yes, yes. We're having a playful row, don't you fret," Alastor assured, giving his middle a gentle pat.
And the pup will be learning French for certain - the way my Maman and I always spoke it. Do keep up.