After reading a comic got a scene stuck in my head
Been reading some comics by @elsa-fogen specifcally after reading this page of said comic and a scene formed in my head wouldn't leave till i wrote it.
Since this is Hazbin Hotel warnings of adult content and the like. and brief mentions of Spousal and sexual abuse.
Alastor keeps holding Vox’s head, his shadow claws lightly tapping on his screen.
A brief flash of light appears in Vox’s room, and before Vox can start to panic at the new presence, Alastor says, I hear the shuffling of angels’ feet, and My My do I smell sanctomony? No, this is genuine piety. Strange. You're in the wrong room. No one here wishes to be saved, Revrend.
The angel says, I am not an evangelist, Mr. Desrosiers. I am called Cassiel, the Angel of Whispers. I work for the Celestial Intelligence Agency under the archangel Uriel.
Vox startled says, What the fuck? CIA? Heaven has spooks? Fuck you’re here to exterminate me arnt you?
Cassiel says, No. Mr. Whittmen. Truth be told, I didn’t even know you would be here. I am here to speak with the Radio Demon.
Alastor places Vox down as he turns to face the angel, saying, If it’s a fight you want. I will not go quietly into oblivion.
Alastor calls his still tremendous power to him, even through the wound made by Adam’s stupid axe and the pain of the burns from the Might of Lilith. Cassiel simply raises a hand and says, Peace. I am not here to fight but to aid.
Alastor: I don’t want Heaven’s fucking pity!
Cassiel: it’s not pity. Its… call of your shadows and let’s talk. Vincent you have any whiskey you’d be willing to share?
Vox says from his place on the seat yeah, minibar 15 feet to your left by the door. Wait. How the fuck do you know my live name?
Cassiel doesn't answer right away. He waits till Alastor calls off his power; he calmly finds the mini bar and a bottle of Wraith Whiskey and pours three fingers' worth on ice in three glasses. He offers one to Alastor first, then one with a straw for vox then sits down with the third.
Casiel: I know both of your live names because I can see them, perk of the job i guess. And, Alastor, what I am offering isnt pity its compensation for services rendered.
Alastor: Funny. I dont remember helping any little old ladies cross the street recently. Nor have I built a nunnery. May need to jog my memory.
Cassiel takes a sip of the whiskey and frowns at the burn, then says, Fine, firstly, besides aiding in stopping Vin-Vox’s penis companstation from taking out half of the Pride ring. You pushed Emily out of the way of that blast. Injuring yourself to save her.
Vox huffs, I wasn’t compensating.
Alastor says, Drink your whiskey Vox. Adults are talking. There’s more to this than just a reflex and trying to protect my own hide.
Cassiel says, and you’d be right. While those two deeds could be, as you said, just a reflex and self-preservation. Tell me, do you remember Thaddius Thibodeaux?
Alastor takes a very long sip of his whiskey before he remembers a drunk in 1923 that he’d pass running errands for his father’s haberdashery. Just before his father’s heart gave out. A drunk who was almost proud to tell folks how he hit his wife, and Alastor remembers hearing said drunk mutter one night to himself that if his wife wouldn’t put out, that his girl was old enough. The drunk never saw Alastor pick up the loose brick and wind up to strike him with it, and before the drunk could react, Alastor had his hands around his throat and crushed his windpipe.
Alastor: Ah. didn’t even learn his name till the papers the next day. Mugging gone wrong was the theory, even though I never even looked for money. Just not a fan of those who threaten and abuse the fairer sex. And why do you care about what i did to that waste of oxygen?
Cassiel: Thaddius Thibodeaux didn’t just have a wife, Miriam and 14-year-old daughter, Celeste. He also had a 14-year-old son, Theodore. Who tragically tried to protect his mother and sister a few nights prior, only for his father to grab the back of Theodore’s head and smash his face on a table. Said action sent the cartilage of his nose into his brain, killing him.
Alastor: I see. Metaphorically, at least. You are Theodore.
Cassiel nods before remembering Alastor is missing his eyes and says, Yes I am. You did what I couldn’t, and I want to repay that debt.
Alastor taps his chin with his cane before saying, and what if i dont want it? Would you just leave?
Cassiel: Yes.
Cassiel: Yes. choice. Free will must be honored and protected; that is literally my job, and what I’ve done since earning my wings.
Alastor: and how would you fix me? Some of that celestial brass I saw Adam’s right hand have?
Cassiel: If this were a sanctioned mission. Maybe. But I was thinking more of treating the residual divine energy clinging to your wounds so they may actually heal in time, and maybe take your eye over in that glass and give it back to you.
Vox startled says, hey thats my tro-. The words die as Theodore levels a glare that makes his circuits freeze and his face pixelate.
Cassiel: You've made plenty of deals with down below. Care to try one from on high?
Alastor finishes his whiskey, thinking. Thinking of all the pity he keeps getting despite still having multiple overlords' souls and many more demons’ still trapped in his broadcast.
Alastor: you drive a hard bargain Mr. Thibodeaux. But let's shake and make it happen.
Cassiel smiles as he finishes his own drink and grabs Alastor’s eye and monocle from Vox’s bedside table, and before taking Alastor’s outstretched hand, Cassiel warns, This will hurt a lot.
Alastor: My Dear Boy. Pain and I are practically lovers at this point. Do your worst or best as the case may be.
Cassiel grips Alastor’s right hand, and Vox feels the energy coming off the angel and overlord, the pain both men are keeping in with clenched teeth. When the lights die down and Vox can see again he sees first the angel looking haggard. As if he hadn’t slept or ate much in months and sees golden blood dripping from his eyes, nose, ears and the corners of his mouth. Alastor rolls his shoulders, cracks his neck, and picks up and puts on his monocle with mechanical efficiency, and when Alastor’s one eye falls on Vox. Vox sees not the ever-present grin but disdain and disgust, Alastor’s mouth was actually a frown.
As Alastor is rubbing his jaw and enjoying the feeling of not having so many nerves constantly on fire. Vox stammers, Al. You're not smiling.
Alastor: Dont be silly Vox sadly its physically impossible… for… me.. The words die as Alastor sees his reflection in Vox’s screen. He wasn’t smiling. He was so taken aback that he almost didn’t notice how his other wounds didn’t look new. How they now looked like they were healing or scarring.
Alastor: Boy do you know what you have done? My smile was a link in the chain of my deal.
Cassiel: Oops. I thought it was nerve damage. I’m a field agent, not a doctor.
Alastor: And yet you felt the need to play at being one. Ah well. I’ve been smiling for nearly a century down here now, and only a drop of power to keep myself smiling but now I can turn it off. You have given me options. So what now?
Cassiel: When my heart stops racing, I will return to Heaven and probably passout. Then you can do whatever you wish to do.
Alastor: No hidden strings or fine print? I don’t need to host a radio church service every Sunday?
Cassiel: No. Bargains with Heaven run on a different system than deals down here. Your will is your own, just as what you do with it.
And with that, Cassiel was gone.
dededos
origamiaround
janainaart
turnnoffyourmind
dailybridgerton
kaledo-art
prguitarman
romaincrisis
