nomoreroom | An Alastor RP Catchall

"Sit somewhere for eighty five years, you learn to tolerate it pretty well!" That and what with being one of the scariest assholes in Hell, one was usually afforded a more tolerable experience.

"What's wrong, feathers, had a rough commute?"

Tolerate being the keyword. It would be impossible to enjoy such a place in the healer's opinion.

Oh, this game again? Very well.

"Your people aren't the most enjoyable to be around, Little Fawn. Thankfully since you're my plus one we can take the elevator instead."

He gave a three taps with his staff and a bright blue circle went around them.

This game for the next one hundred years or until one of them breaks! It's absolutely a power move, he can't just sit around taking orders from an angel and not be openly irreverent.

One ear flicks, but his expression doesn't change, perhaps just pleased enough to know that, for a short time, he'd be somewhere else other than Hell.

"Well, isn't that fancy? Plan on telling me any details on the way up or do I have to wait?"

Wonderful.

Raphael did look at Alastor curiously at his next sentence as they began to rise up.

"If you'd like I'm willing to tell. I figured you wouldn't care one way or another so long as you got to rip into people. And eat them if the files are correct."

"Gotta know who I'm looking for!" No he didn't care what the person did, didn't care how old or young, didn't care if they were rich or poor or had the saddest backstory in the world.

"What do they look like? Or do you just plan on dropping me right into their house? Not much of a trip up top if I'm just in and out but hey, no skin off my nose."

"Let's see how well you do first." Raphael didn't want to get ahead if himself making these long trips if Alastor was just going to go on a rampage anyway.

He drew a photograph of a young man out of his satchel to give to Alastor. The young man had to be in his mid twenties, clean cut, with a trusting face.

"He works at a convalescent home. Likes to have it with the coma patients. He's already been caught once so he's clearly immune to earthly punishment. Speaking of punishment,"

Raphael turned to look back at the Radio Demon, "You're willingness to leave Hell wouldn't happen to have anything to do with this Vox character everyone's murmuring about would it?"

"Oh I get it, a healthy amount of distrust!" Well... hey, he was kind of right. He had no way of knowing if Alastor would just attempt to take full advantage of his time on earth, deal or no deal.

He snagged the picture, head tilting as he scrutinized the drawing.

"What, can't find anyone awake? What ever happened to necrophilia, almost no one complained about necrophilia!" Well... back in the thirties, anyway. "Consider him past tense." Never much cared for sex offenders anyway.

"What, that shitbox?" There was a laugh, laden with static, the vaguest crackle of that crackling snow eating at the very corners of reality for half a second.

"Not a chance. Entirely personal." What, like he'd have said anything else? Even if he was genuinely concerned about the screen-faced demon, he wouldn't ever say it.

Oh God now he had necrophilia on his mind. The healer squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think about literally anything else.

"Word is your friend's on his way to becoming the new Satan. Personally I doubt any mortal soul can beat Lucifer but he's been amassing enough power for Michael to take notice."

"It sounds like he has an excellent PR team!" Not worried. Not even slightly.

Not concerned. Not jumping ship. This isn't the smile of someone who's concerned about their welfare.

"He's of course welcome to enjoy his time in the spotlight! He doesn't have any kind of lasting power, and I fully expect him to crack before our hundred years is up."

Raphael shrugged, "Well you're on the ground here so you'd know better."

This would be a perfect time to mention the 'video killed the radio star' joke but since Alastor is from the thirties Raph doubts he'd get the joke. As they went up Raphael looked down at the whole vast region of Hell.

"I'm not going to lie to you." He told Alastor, "I'm looking forward to when we're going to wipe this place out of exsistence. It's something we should've done a while ago."

Edited (grammer bad) 2019-05-05 23:09 (UTC)

"Sure do!" And that was the end of that. The less said about Vox, it seemed, the better.

The joke would have gone sailing over his head of course, the very first actual television hadn't even been invented until a scant few years before his death. Had he lived, he'd have still happily coasted along until his retirement years as a radio host to be sure.

Sure would be a lot more dead people though.

"What's the good of having free will if you can't mess it all up and go to Hell for it? Wipe out Hell from the very beginning, may as well not even bother with that free will stuff!"

Seemed like a nerve was touched. Maybe Vox had rubbed Al's fur the wrong way at one point?

"Perhaps." Raphael conceded with a nod of his head, "But now it's just a pain. We had no idea the ammount of sinners this place was to recieve and now we have to deal with the spillover. The majority of sinners on earth don't believe in Hell anyway. It would be more effiencent to just wipe everyone here and have the sinners erased from existence when they die and just keep the blessed."

"Half the reason Hell's even here is to give some of the ungrateful masses a second chance at being less terrible!

Why do you think purgatory exists?" He wasn't among those who would have been so lucky to be considered 'redeemable' but still.

"Where would your niece even go? Are angel's well known for churning out kids, or is that just a demon thing?

Again, no skin off my nose, Hell exists whether you like it or not."

"Purgatory isn't the same as Hell. Those are two separate places." The angel pointed out, "Hell for us is more of storage unit. As for Charlie, we already have a contingency plan in place for her."

It occured to the angel it might not be wise to discuss the state of Charlie's soul with Alastor. Who knows what the deer demon might end up doing with that information.

"So, it wouldn't matter to you then? So long as you were spared you wouldn't care about wiping everything and everyone below you out of exsistence?" He asked dryly already having a good idea what Alastor's answer would be.

"Not the same, but it doesn't stop it from being attached." Mid-ground, sure, but it was still closer.

"Is that so? Makes sense, you don't choose where you're born, now do you? She's still a demon, though, just like everyone else down here."

The smile Raphael got was a lazily confident one. "Now do I really have to answer that question, tiger?"

For once Raphael smiled, a small smile but still a smile, back at Alastor, "Do I have point out the obvious about Charlie's soul?"

"Now I'm not going to assume anything here, hit me." Busy peering upwards at the moment, trying to see how much longer it'd be until they reached the surface.

"You're a smart fawn." Raphael replied as they passed up into the surface, "You'll figure it out."

Phasing through the rock onto the surface of earth took away the smell of sulfur in the air. It was night time on earth and they were near an weathered down house that connected to an old road leading back to a distant city. The gentle warm wind rocked the leave of the spanish moss trees.

"Thanks be to God." Raphael muttered under his breath letting the stink of Hell fade away from his senses.

"I didn't even give you a pet name that time." Uncalled for.

He was eager to step out, the sight before him sparking old, dusty memories of a time long, long since dead.

Also, it'd be just great to get some space between him and Raphael, he'd be thrilled for that.

"Now isn't this a sight for sore eyes? Takes me back, are we near Louisiana? I want to check a few things while I'm up."

Fair enough although he did call him 'tiger' earlier. Raphael gave a slight tap on his staff and the circle dissipated.

"Okay, here are the ground rules." Raphael told him chosing not to tell him the location for now and walking towards an old stone wall, "Go into that house and kill the man inside. Don't open the laundry room door, that's where the dog is. Leave it be, I'll take care of him.

Now you could try to fuck me over on this but keep in mind two things: no matter where you run, where you hide I can snap my fingers and you're back in the pit. The second thing is I'm not too crazy to return to hell too soon so if you keep this short and sweet-"

The angel took a deep sigh as he sat down on the wall. He knew he was going to regret this decision, "then we'll take that beat up old pick up and waste time until the sun comes up. As for me I'm going to wait here for twenty minutes. You see one slaughtered human, you've seen them all."

This was an obvious test. If Alastor fucked with him then Raphael would do everything in his power to keep him on a short leash. That last thing he wanted to do was spend a hundred years playing helicopter boss on him.

Well, Alastor wasn't too keen on having a babysitter the entire time he spent doing this one hundred year day job. Barring anything unforeseen, the angel could at least expect him to listen to the rules.

.... The dog though, he was heavily tempted to just light the whole house on fire from here and call it a night. Just the mention of a dog had his nose wrinkling, the grin becoming just a touch sharper, perhaps a little more uncomfortably rigid in its appearance.

"... Dog's in the laundry room, got it." Don't go near the dog. Fine.

"If you're going to sweeten the pot with a little downtime though, I don't see any reason not to play ball." One dead human, coming right up, the demon promptly appearing to... click out of existence with a sharp snap of static, right dead smack into the house. He's listening, where's his medal.

Earthly metal medals meant little to him but if there was one that Raphael could bestow on the human race it would be one for cooking. Mankind had a beautiful gift for taking ordinary substances and enhancing their flavors in a beautiful arrangement.

That's why the angel was mentally scrying the best places to pick up something to eat near them. He took a silver flask from around his neck and took a quick sip.

It wasn't going to be terribly long. While the promise of an actual death was very tempting, and lord knew it had been over eight decades since he'd gotten to enjoy the genuine emotional climax of a good, bloody murder... The offer of being able to spend the night out on the town, outside of Hell, won out in the end. He could indulge in old, bad habits later, if the angel was just going to offer him a night out now.

It'd be just a few minutes before the screaming would start, and then barely a few seconds after, it'd come to a sharp, if somewhat moist sounding end, the visceral sound of a few wet pops suggesting the violent snapping of several important, deep set, meaty bones.

The stench of blood would follow him out of the house, along with the baying of the dog still trapped in the laundry room, idly and casually picking his teeth with a pearly bone shard with one hand, while the other brushed off a stringy, still quivering line of viscera clinging to his coat like a particularly slimy caterpillar.

Seemed like despite the time limit here, he'd made some time to enjoy himself, at least a little bit.

"Now, I wouldn't expect such a quick job every time, a man's gotta have a little fun on the job every now and again, I don't want this to become totally thankless."

God the screaming. You think after all these centuries Raphael would be used to it but he wasn't like his triplet Michael. He had been made for healing, not battle. Mentally he reminded himself that the victim was a monster. He swallowed a deeper swig of his flask before closing it back around his neck again.

"As you wish." Raphael nodded and the sound of the dog howling gave him the confirmation he needed. The angel got up from his spot on the wall and snapped his fingers although it seemed like nothing happened.

"Do they have beignets in Hell?" He asked him casually as he got up to open the truck door.

Alastor, of course, didn't even act like he heard it, flicking off what looked suspiciously like gray matter from the top of his cane before tossing the used bone splinter off to the side. No he doesn't care about any crime scene investigators, he's already dead. What are they going to do? Dig down to Hell and double execute him?

If they were going into town though, no doubt to be seen by others... it might be a good idea to look a little less like a horrifying deer-man abomination. He's giving his options a good think, as Raphael asked his question.

"Of course they do! It's Hell, so they aren't any good, but they have them! Why do you ask?" There's... a vague threat in that tone, way, way in the back of it.

This road trip better not be ending immediately back in the Pentagram, he followed those rules and he expects proper payment for them.

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