Scene XVI - Knowledge and Hunger.
Takes place in: Month I - Day 19.
Alastor would be lying if he said the little adventures of these mortals were growing stale. There was a lot of drama going around! Why, yesterday Rosie had killed someone in front of them at last! Pity about the trio, truly. They were indeed daring and could've been fun. But his dear friend only killed one of them.
The old soldier's instincts had borne fruit, albeit it would've been his last if he hadn't had any blessed ammo left and if he had grown rustier. But that one Alastor hadn't really expected to fail. Cannibals are sturdy and fast, but not sturdier than a holy bullet and not faster than a father's determination. Paternal rage at your child's captors was expected and invigorating, but boring. Still entertaining considering it was a mere human very much past his prime, and he could've fought at least one of them in good terms hand to hand! Oh Alastor would've loved to see old man Manuel decking a bloodthirsty demon. It would've been a lark for sure.
But no, no that hadn't happened. What he had seen was much more promising. The young, inexperienced man stabbing a well practiced Cannibal about to kill his grandfather or his mother? Through the mouth no less? Oh, that was a nice sight. Shame it hadn't been as detailed as he wanted it to. His shadows did not like that damn Tower's magic. But he saw enough.
There were times he wished Rosie hadn't allowed him such freedom in her territory. Many boring sights, many ungodly things that not even Alastor could stomach (though all of them were of a carnal nature, to be honest), and not exactly little ground to cover whenever he sought something out. But this little Tower? The place had a lot of drama to go yet, and many curiosities for him to see. Even now, at night, the mortals kept him entertained in some way.
Like the little darling and her darkling.
"Hello, mister Alastor. How are you this fine night?"
It still put him off how welcome the humans were of him. Well, not all of them. But there was something there that he didn't quite like: A lack of fear. A disconnect with the pecking order of Hell, even Earth. The lot of them just didn't see him as a danger.
He couldn't help it, it was his nature. Although he was sure this had to do with his friendship with Rosie and their own natural disregard of a 'mere' Sinner as a problem. Even those without the proper blood had been around their more abnormal kind to be affected and resist Hell and its horrors better than most mortals should. And, honestly, this friendliness had its uses, much like their lack of fear.
It made them… easy to access.
Besides, that didn't mean he was going to be rude when welcomed in such a friendly way. "Well hello, my there, dear. I am doing good as you can see, just curious. It seems Rosie wasn't exaggerating. You do seem to enjoy your night walks and solitude."
"Of course. More now, with my little Thor." Marcela took a red piece of something from a bowl and fed it to the monstrous cat. Thin, small and looking harmless and eyeless as always… until his mouth opened wide, with its insides like a blender, to take the thing in.
It was flesh, and Marcela's hands were covered in black blood. There was a particular, sadistic glee in the teenager's barely noticeable smile. Alastor knew why. He knew where the flesh came from. It was a testimony that, while still weak, the family would fit perfectly within the Cannibal Colony when it came to sadistic pleasures and defilement to one's enemies. It made Alastor appreciate the young girl a little more.
The teenager didn't seem to mind or notice his scrutiny. She also seemed far too welcome to the monster sitting on her lap as she petted him with a smile on her face.
If you were to press him, Alastor could perhaps admit that he found this disturbing, if only a little. Few knew that Alastor found much more pleasure in the idea of men falling to their deepest vices, and punishing or hunting them. He saw women as much more delicate creatures. An old way of seeing things, perhaps, but that was how he was.
"I have been wondering though." Alastor grew closer to the gazebo the teenager was sitting at, as she always did almost every night. "How is that a Darkling got attached to you, young one?"
Marcela shrugged. "I don't know. He came to me the first night I was walking around. I felt drawn to him and he seemed to like me well enough." The dark clad teen allowed her pet monster to clean her hand with a small myriad of tendril-like tongues. "I know little about his species. But he seems more closely related to Lovercraftian entities than most other demons. Many in the Colony seem to find him disturbing, or scary." Her smile only widened as the 'cat' let out a very particular mew akin to glass shattering after her now clean had began to scritch him under his chin. A set of spines grew from his back as a shiver ran down the thing's whole body. "I think he is cute."
Alastor hummed. Was this what happened when you got The Order to leave closely related members out of their training and mental reinforcement? That was a curious question for a curious mind. Considering how broken they were, he thought he was right.
No normal person would be this calm with a Primordial Demon this close to them. Those things were even below animalistic levels; they were all driven by need and emotion, not even instincts, just desire. Even feral Cannibals weren't that close to a mindless and true monster. Only older entities had a 'sex', not that they usually reproduced that way. Some even got a personality. And Darklings? They were the most 'basic' TRUE demons from the far reaches of Hell. They could adopt many forms, though once they grew to 'be', not just to exist, they were fixated on one particular body (though their shapeshifting went unmolested to be used when needed). This, of course, took a very long time. Which meant this 'Thor' likely had from decades to hundreds, if not thousands of years to his name.
Alastor wouldn't bring that up. The teen could become even more enamored with the 'animal'.
"What about you?"
Her question caught Alastor off guard, but also returned him to the present.
"What now, my dear?"
"The Wendigo." Marcela didn't miss a beat. "We all can see it."
Alastor's static began to hum.
"Excuse me?"
"Me and my brother. My father. Those of us with that 'blood'." Marcela was clearly unbothered about the sound, so was her cat as she fed him another flesh cube. They either didn't understand the danger or felt none from the man. Alastor wasn't happy about it. "There is something clinging about your person. I think I am the one that sees it better than most."
"Do you now?" Alastor rested his hands on his cane as he narrowed his eyes. The humm was there, but it had lessened. "Then what can you tell me about it?"
Marcela didn't seem to miss a beat here. "It is hungry. Always. Feral. Uncaring." The teen allowed her pet to clean the blood once more. "You come from a hard time, don't you? History is one of my things. The dark parts especially, as well as its myths. Racism, the Dust Bowl. Misery. Desperation. Blood and Hunger."
Alastor's eyes became radio dials despite his attempts at remaining calm. This topic was not something he enjoyed and all those that had brought it up were the few friends he had, or people that were no longer around.
His self restraint was noted. All the while Marcela kept talking.
"I do not understand your situation, not fully. Hunger? No. Pain? Likely not. The feeling of being seen as lesser for things out of your control? The mental and physical abuse? Yes." That made Alastor slow down a bit as Marcela got the bowl closer to her cat for him to feed on what little remained there. Perhaps it was her sincerity, or the fact that the teen was, in the end, just a teen. Alastor could let it go. Marcela clearly meant no disrespect or insult. "Desperation makes us do things."
The Radio Demon let out another humm. "And you were ready to do something yourself, young lady?"
"Not with my brother to support me." Marcela admitted as she saw Thor empty the bowl in seconds. "But I have a small collection of knives. I usually carry one around. Only my brother knows about this." The teen faced Alastor with a small, thin lipped smile. "It is never smart to go around undefended, right?"
That made Alastor's own grin far more sincere, and predatory. "Why, yes indeed! One should always be ready." He chuckled as he rested his side against the gazebo. "You never know what might happen."
Truly, she didn't. Alastor didn't either, despite his best attempts at it. There were things that could surprise you in Hell, no matter how long you had been living there.
Things that could do far too much bad for anyone to let it go unchecked, or unpunished.
"Speaking of being prepared." Alastor dismissed his cane as he watched over the teen as she played with the 'cat' with far less care than anyone should, considering what it was. "It seems you are very capable when it comes to the occult, for your age. Rosie spoke about your talents, and it seems she was not exaggerating. Such knowledge and interest will breed quite the ability if you nurture it."
"Death brings things out." Marcela didn't seem too bothered about what she just said. "Losing a sister before she was born made me… think."
Alastor hummed. He couldn't relate, but he understood. Death had a pull to it. "So I gather this fascination has a deep hold on you?"
"Very."
Finally Thor had enough of the attention. The lovecraftian cat demon stretched, let out every single eye he could create all over its body so they could pierce the world around him with their gaze, created a maw fit for a horror movie, and then just jumped away without a care.
The teen only seemed sad that the monster drifted away from her lap.
"But why do you ask?" And Marcela seemed wholly unperturbed as she got up, bloody bowl (or what little blood Thor left behind) in hand.
"Well my dear. It should be obvious! You have a deep interest in the occult and I have much knowledge about it myself." Alastor's smirk widened. This was an opportunity of the many he had at his disposal, so why not start going for it? "I am far more interested in magic and many other means to grow stronger, young lady. There is a vested desire I have to remain… free." He wouldn't expand on it. The teen needed not know. "But knowledge is power. There are… facets of Hell I am just less predisposed to. Far too many things to do, too many problems to tackle, you understand."
Marcela seemed to get what the Radio Demon was about. "You'd like me to learn about certain things then?"
"And then relay that info to me in a more digestible manner. More tidbits of dark knowledge for you that I will gladly supply, more time for me to get my affairs in order as you bring the important parts to light. How does that sound?" Alastor wasn't going to offer a Deal. But a simple, normal transaction? That wouldn't bother Rosie, he knew that much. Besides, this was a 'win-win' for the teen.
And Marcela seemed to be thinking it over. Though she arrived at a decision faster than Alastor thought she would. "Sounds good to me." Because curiosity was all but assured in her family. "If you can satisfy my desire to know about a topic, right now, please?"
Well, why not? Alastor was delighted that the young teen at least had the manners to ask as one should. "Of course my dear. What is it that you are curious about?" At least so long as she wasn't going to ask about HIM. Alastor was sure her questions would be a bit too invasive for his liking.
It looked like Marcela was uncomfortable about THIS of all things. When she spoke it quickly made sense to the Radio Demon.
"Can you tell me about Primeval Humans? And The Order?"
Alastor's smirk became even sharper. Why, of course he could. Not only was this an amusing request, it served his purposes well enough. Besides, it even made his old, dead heart beat once more, for he knew why the young girl wanted to learn.
You have to know about your enemies, after all.
In fact, Alastor thought of an interesting little trinket to give the little girl for showing such drive. One time use, unless properly recharged. A good way to bring her back if she found it satisfactory, along with the knowledge she craved. Perhaps it would help her if she went into the waters back home? The Radio Demon had felt strange things lurking beneath the waves as of late.