Alcor arrived on the scene a moment too late.
Ashir had put up a fight, that much was obvious- the concrete ground of the narrow alleyway was covered with blood, and the two strangers who remained there, though still standing, looked worse for wear. But it evidently hadn't been enough, because Ashir was sprawled out on the ground, his clothes soaked with blood, and he wasn't moving, he wasn't breathing oh God he wasn't breathing-
And Alcor could feel from their connection that Ashir hadn't passed on just yet, but that was little comfort given his condition. How long would it take? Minutes? Seconds? He wasn't ready to lose another Mizar, not now, he was so young-
Alcor faced the two men who stood next to Ashir- or rather, next to his all-too-still body- and bared his fangs as he entered the physical plane.
The two responded not by running or begging for mercy, but by snarling and opening their mouths, revealing gleaming fangs of their own. He wasn't sure if their decision to stay and fight was borne of ignorance of the nature of their foe, or just of an unthinking cockiness that made the two willing to try their luck against the world's most infamous demon.
Regardless of the thought process behind it, the end result was the same; Alcor quickly ensured that Ashir's attackers paid for their crimes, ensured that this poorly-chosen victim would be their last. The bites and scratches that resulted from their struggles were nothing to him, mere flesh wounds rendered unto one who had not been composed of flesh for millennia now; once he had taken care of them, once the remains of those who had dared to lay a finger on his Mizar were rendered into minuscule bits strewn across the alleyway, it was no trouble at all for the demon to return his physical form to its usual uninjured state, to make it look like nothing at all had happened...
Except that Ashir was still on the ground, not moving, not breathing.
And yet... and yet he wasn't dead. His soul was still in there (miraculously still there, though his heart had ceased beating, his body was all but lifeless) and if Alcor acted fast, maybe there was something he could do- the kid was only seventeen, human lifespans were short enough without accidents rushing them towards death all the sooner...
Ashir's eyes fluttered open.
It took one second for Alcor to sprint to Ashir's side and crouch down next to him, watching for further signs of movement, his mind racing as he tried and failed to think of what he could do to make Ashir well once more, or at least to keep him alive (there was so much blood). It took another second for Alcor to realize, upon taking a closer look at those now-open eyes, that there was something different about their appearance, something ever so slightly off.
Ashir's heart still wasn't beating as he turned his head to look at Alcor.
"W-what happened?" Ashir shook his head, but the gesture did nothing to erase the confusion in the boy's eyes.
Alcor hesitated, not quite sure how to respond, how much he wanted to give away and how much his Mizar- Ashir, he had a name- should learn for himself.
Finally, he found the courage to string together a few words. "You survived, that's what happened."
After a long, silent minute, Alcor added, "Are you okay? How do you feel?"
"I feel..." Ashir closed his eyes for a moment before responding. "Well... I'm kinda cold. Aching a bit, but not all that bad, really, . And I'm hungry. I don't know why I'm sho hungry, I jusht ate- wait, why does my voice shound funny?" He opened his mouth and ran his tongue along his teeth, their dull and flat form now accompanied by a pair of long, sharp fangs, which he immediately retracted. "Wait, does this mean- no, no, that can't be what just happened, there has to be some other explanation, this isn't happening, I can't have just- well, you know, just-"
Alcor tried to keep his tone of voice as calm as possible as he responded. "I'd like to tell you otherwise, but there's only one possible explanation, and you seem to have figured that one out already..."
Ashir sat up, groaning as he pushed his torso off of the ground, and then buried his head in his blood-stained hands. "Oh god. This is- this is ridiculous. I can't believe- I mean, I know this sort of thing happens to people from time to time, but I never thought that it'd be me, that I'd be the one turned into... into... well, this. I thought I was safe."
"I'm so sorry, I came as soon as I could-"
"No, no, don't blame yourself, it's not your fault, it's all because of those jerks-" Ashir rested his hands back at his side and glanced around him before continuing. "They're gone, then, I assume? Did they just run off after... well, after, or...?"
"No, no, nothing like that." Alcor let loose a hollow laugh. "I took care of them." The demon bared his teeth, revealing his own set of fangs, the implications of his statement all too clear.
"Oh yeah, right, that makes sense. Well... thanks for that, I guess."
Alcor shook his head. "It was my pleasure."
Ashir shakily pushed himself off of the ground, gently nudging away Alcor's hand when the demon wordlessly offered his assistance. The two stared at one another, neither one sure what words could be used to fill the void between them, what could possibly make things better after what had just happened.
Ashir was the one to finally break the silence, his words as shaky as his movements as they pierced the warm evening air.
"Man, I probably look like a hot mess right now, don't I?" Ashir's laugh was soft and hollow.
"Don't worry about that right now. I've seen worse. Much worse."
"Given the sort of things you've seen over the years, that's not really all that reassuring."
Alcor chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Alright, you got me. But if you want my honest assessment of your appearance right now?" He looked Ashir over up and down, pausing for a moment before responding. "Given... well... what you've just gone through, it could be a lot worse. I mean, that shirt's probably not salvageable, but I think the worst of it..." Alcor looked at the blood-stained concrete that surrounded them, at the droplets weaving their way down the cracked walls and spilling onto the dirty ground below. "...went elsewhere."
Ashir laughed again, another laugh speaking more to nervousness than humor. "That's good at least. Well then, I guess I should head home- I was on my way back anyway, and I don't exactly feel like a night on the town after this- though maybe sneaking back in through the bedroom window isn't the best idea, I mean, I'd probably get blood all over, and then there's the whole deal with-"
"You're right, don't sneak through the window again." Alcor wrapped his arm around Ashir's neck and rested his hand on Ashir's shoulder.
He tried not to think about how good the blood dripping off that lime-green shirt smelled, how under different circumstances he would gladly feast upon the gore and guts that surrounded him.
He tried not to think about how Ashir must be enticed by the scent too now, how the bloodshed that he had tried to shield Ashir from while growing up would have to become a part of the newly-turned Mizar's everyday life. Ashir was his Mizar, his anchor to humanity, the one who was always there to remind him of the world that he had been born into so long ago, a world that was more than just the violence that kept him going... and now...?
No, he couldn't think about any of that. None of that mattered right now. What mattered was their next move.
"If I were you, I'd try just... ringing the doorbell." Alcor shrugged. "It's probably your best bet, curfew or no curfew. Somehow I doubt they'll be too hard on you for that anyway."
Ashir gave Alcor a weak grin. "I suppose it's worth a shot. Would you, uh, mind saving me the walk back, then?"
"Not a problem."
Alcor extended his hand, and Ashir reached out to it, his grip strong (and cold and clammy and pulseless) as their hands made contact.
And in the blink of an eye, their surroundings shifted, the two leaving behind the dark alley and arriving at the brightly-lit sidewalk outside of Ashir's home, where gum and cigarette butts littered the half-dead grass, where one sidewalk square still held the imprint of a young Ashir's hand and thin sketches of the letters AZ underneath, the sidewalk marked as his even before he could write his name.
"Well. Here we are, then."
"Here we are." Alcor dully echoed.
The two walked side by side up to the doorstep, where Ashir hesitated, then turned to Alcor.
"So... um... don't take this the wrong way or anything, but can you, well, clear out while I'm talking to them? I'm- you know, I'm not the greatest talker anyway, and while I know it's because you care, I worry you'd be- well, you might distract me, and anyway I don't know if-"
"That's fine." Alcor gave Ashir a thin smile. "Take your time. Just get in touch when you're done."
"Yeah, I will." Ashir returned Alcor's smile with one of his own, the two equally weak. "I'll give you all the details then, don't worry. Unless you already know thanks to that whole knowing everything thing you have going on..."
"No, no. I'll want the full scoop."
Ashir nodded tersely, his finger hovering over the doorbell, before glancing back at Alcor and gesturing with the other hand to shoo him away.
"Oh. Right. ...I'll go, but as soon as you can, give me a call, okay? As soon as everything gets worked out, I want to know."
"Okay, Mom." Ashir rolled his eyes.
"Hey!" Alcor put his hands on his hips in an show of mock offense. "I am a wonderful parent, I will have you know."
"Tell me about it later, okay? I don't need to be out here 'til sunrise."
Six hours, thirty-eight minutes, and twenty seconds until sunrise now. That would have to be quite the conversation... "I'll be waiting."
And with that, Alcor escaped into the mindscape.
The demon entered the mindscape's version of the Shack, a massive monument built up over the course of millennia, in which he had wiled away years upon years of free time... and now, when he only needed- an hour? two hours? how long could the conversation be?- none of it seemed worth examining. The keepsakes that he had amassed throughout lifetimes held little interest for him; the thousands of books that lined the shelves of his library could not serve as a suitable distraction. He ended up in the field with his Nightmares, absent-mindedly petting the head of Groknar the Destroyer and trying not to over-analyse every minor twinge of emotion that he felt by proxy from the one whose soul he owned.
But while he was able to more or less tune out the quick flashes of fear or hope or anger, he couldn't ignore the burning pain that followed.
He wasn't going to delay this time, Ashir's privacy be damned, not when his last moment of hesitation had cost Ashir his... well, had caused this whole situation in the first place. In the blink of an eye, Alcor went from the sprawling gray fields of the mindscape back to the physical realm, to where his Mizar- to where Ashir was waiting for him.
The demon found himself just outside the closed door to Ashir's house, and a quick glance revealed that Ashir was standing gingerly on the sidewalk leading up to the door. The grimace on Ashir's face looking to be as much from distress as from injury, as he otherwise looked no worse than he had been beforehand.
Alcor floated closer to Ashir, hesitating for a brief moment before asking, "What happened?"
Ashir's arms trembled, his hands clenched into tight fists, and it took him a moment to spit out his response. "It... appears... I am no longer welcome here. My parents said I'm not allowed to enter their house- my own house, it's my place too, lived in it all my life but I can't even walk in there without their permission, apparently- I knew that was a thing, but man, I didn't really think it'd hurt like that-"
Alcor started to extend his hand towards Ashir's shoulder, then thought better of it, his hand dangling in mid-air for a moment before he let it drop back to his side. "Ashir..."
Ashir's eyes were turned away from both Alcor and the house, seemingly focused on a large spiky weed lining the far edge of the yard. "And they wouldn't even let me in to get my stuff, just said they'll send it over when I get settled, but where am I going to 'get settled', I haven't even finished school yet-"
"Ashir?"
"I can't do this there's no way I can't I just can't I don't have anything I can't do anything I'm just gonna die out here on the streets aren't I this is it-"
"You are not going to die on the streets."
Ashir looked back at Alcor, and even if Alcor hadn't just seen the colors of Ashir's aura jump and swirl after the demon's interruption, the wavering in the teenager's eyes made his confusion clear enough.
"You won't." Alcor reiterated. "And you know why?"
"Why?" Ashir's voice was just above a whisper.
"Because I won't let you."
Ashir snorted, the slightest hint of a grin showing itself on his face.
"I mean it. Now take a deep breath, and we'll figure this out together."
Ashir inhaled slowly, closed his eyes for a moment, then exhaled and opened his eyes once again before beginning to pace back and forth on the sidewalk that paralleled the street.
"Well, there's Kiran- wait, no, her new step-parent's a huge pro-nat aren't they, that wouldn't go over so well- and Jarah's got enough going on in zir life, there's no way I could put that on zir plate too- and then I guess there's shelters but so many of them are human-only and I don't know where they are anyway and all my stuff's inside and- wait, you could find a good shelter for me, couldn't you?"
"...I could."
Another idea was forming in Alcor's mind, though, the details plotted out as the stream of Ashir's words flowed on. There was somewhere else they could go, somewhere that Alcor hadn't been in far too long, somewhere that would gladly extend Ashir an open invitation.
"Oh, good, can you just tell me or is this the kind of thing that needs a proper deal, because I'm not sure that I could give you much of anything right now, unless you really want the shirt I'm wearing that's all covered in blood or something but that's kind of ick-"
"Tempting, but no." Alcor raised a finger, and Ashir quieted. "Actually, I know a place. Not a shelter, exactly, but better. Want to go check it out?"
Ashir shrugged weakly. "Sure, why not. Doesn't seem like there's much else I can do."
"Great."
They blipped away, hard concrete and dilapidated homes replaced with tall trees and a single, massive building towering above them.
"What... what is this place?" Ashir asked, his gaze flitting from place to place as he took in the structure before him.
"It's called the Shack- the Wandering Shack. It's huge, and it's got everything, and you are always welcome to enter it."
Ashir approached the door, wrapping his hand around the doorknob, then looking back at Alcor. "When you say I'm always welcome, do you mean that in the sense of, you know, that I can actually- well, enter? All the time? Without having to worry about... you know..." Ashir waved his hand around in the air vaguely, his sentence trailing to a halt. (Ashir didn't have to specify. Alcor knew.)
"Oh yeah. I own the place. Kind of. It's complicated." Alcor wrinkled his nose. "Probably should've started my explanation with that, I suppose. So yeah, go wild."
Ashir nodded tersely, his grip on the doorknob tightening until he wrenched the door open and took a few cautious steps inside.
"Don't worry, it won't bite. Probably." Alcor rested his hand thoughtfully on his chin. "There may be some rugrats running around in here- that does seem to keep happening- and I can't guarantee they won't bite, but otherwise..."
Ashir's pace quickened as he circled the room before finally flopping down on a nearby couch.
"So this is it, then, huh? This is where I get to stay for..." Ashir pulled one of the couch cushions down onto his face. "For forever?"
"Until you find somewhere else. And if you don't, that's fine too."
Ashir rolled over, knocking the cushion that had been covering his head onto the floor, then sat up. "Thank you. Thank you so much."
"It's the least I could do for-"
And suddenly Alcor was trapped in a tight embrace- was Ashir always that strong?- with further babbled thanks whispered straight into his ear.
Despite everything, Alcor felt himself begin to smile.