MUN SPEAKING: The concept of woefully forever undiagnosed MurderMedia but their mental difficulties play off of each other in a way that feeds them both and keeps them addicted to each other
[the color coding of the characters beneath this do not play into the characterization using color on this blog! I just like how it looks...]
Alastor being surprisingly good at managing his cocktail of undiagnosed Schizotypal Personality Disorder with traits aligning with both BPD + ASPD, half-thanks to his casual functional alcoholism. Literally no one can tell but he takes a shot every morning before he brushes his teeth. He sees it as a logical way to make himself appear more like everyone else and lower his stress levels. It 'works for him' and he tells no one so that no one tries to stop him. He drowns in cigarettes and booze and thinks about [deleting] himself fairly often but not in a planning way- moreso in a... curious way. He dances between life and death. He [0D's] once by accident as a young man [opium] and avoids it afterward for fear of loss of control, but he is also, in a way, chasing that feeling forever. The Nothingness. Because he is nothingness, and he feels at home in the fold. He thinks of things in ways that no one else understands and eventually he comes to be at peace with that, comfortable being alone with himself in a world full of people.
Vincent being an absolute fiend within his undiagnosed NPD + BPD combo, and getting even worse when he hits 23 and Bipolar I smashes into him like a truck. He presents as mania-heavy but no one notices because Vincent Loves Cocaine and he had a god complex before he started to have his prolonged manic episodes. He's rough around the edges but just smart enough to know how to polish himself perfectly in situations that matter. This is a man who can sit in a meeting manic, hallucinating, coked up, and drunk, and make himself look and sound like an ideal employee. His self image is perfectly curated and underneath it hides a wild animal. When the lows hit, it's harder for him, because he's so much more comfortable in the highs, and he feels like that's HIM. His self image is tied extremely close to his fizzing brain, and after BP1 develops, it is directly tied to his mania. He's horrific while depressed, forcing himself to maintain his public image while actively crumbling on the inside every second of every day. He refuses to seek out treatment because he finds it foolish, or thinks of it as a sign of weakness; all while he sits at his desk and casually imagines hurting or [deleting] himself just to try to conjure up some kind of momentary relief in the fantasy. When his manic periods return, he feels like a god, and practically spits on the version of himself that exists when he's depressed.
They meet and cavort and mingle and grow close, slowly, inch by inch, and every inch only gives way to them both becoming more and more fixated on the other.
Alastor is grounded. Vincent is lofty.
Vincent loves fast, hard games, flashing lights, pinball. Alastor loves the slow drag, drawn out words, chess.
Alastor is a poet. Vincent is a visualizer.
Vincent is present to a cutthroat degree. Alastor's mind is always half in this world, half somewhere else.
Alastor is a gambler. Vincent is a gameshow host.
Vincent feels everything always all at once, and that's something he can't control. Alastor feels very little, nearly every moment of every day, and that is on purpose.
Alastor is methodical, a long-go planner. Vincent is a think-and-do.
Vincent wants to be a god. Alastor wants to kill a god.
They wind around each other, ying and yang. Neither of them know why. Alastor keeps Vincent just close enough to the ground... Vincent lifts Alastor up, places him his shoulders. The butcher finds a sheep-God that he's too fond of to slaughter, and the sheep-God finds a butcher that buckles him at the knees, and he likes it. They both like it. Neither of them understand it. Vincent sparks obsession over this while Alastor sparks both disgust and intrigue. They're reacting to the exact same experience.
Two sides, one coin. Always touching, but forever unable to properly look each other in the eye.