Eery, was the door as it creaked open; that dim amber glow briefly illuminating the room inside before digit flicks the switch up. On turns the light, betrothed with an ivory polish, the room was lit ablaze in pale luminosity. In he saunters, procuring the box of Marlboro Reds and giving the bottom a stern flick, he'd catch it betwixt his lips and azure heat engulfs the tip, allowing the embers to burn cherry. Past a gentle part, he'd filter the smoke through, slumping into that of a black upholstered chair.
“Long day?”
He regaled himself with the events, specifically, making a deal with Lucifer for his mortality. It stung that he needed to go to such lengths, but that bastard oh he knew he'd soon be freed. This was his last option of procuring a safe haven for his mother's soul, his final shot and when those vocals raspily chined in, would Aster freeze dead in his tracks. Like a deer caught in the headlights of a truck.
❝You aren't real. Not yet.❞
Aster would remind himself, fatigue wreaking havoc throughout his system which brought forth bouts of paranoia. That voice, so chilling that when it rakes along your spine, you'll never forget it. It was his own; his inner demon reveling as the victor through his ears. His promise fulfilled, mortality had split man in twain, leaving him alone in the now flickering room. His head was drawn down, body languidly maneuvering across his apartment and towards the mirror, he saw himself—no, he saw h i m.
