Alastor was getting quite tired of all of this 'Love' nonsense. It was popping up everywhere now and from all angles. In poetry, in names, in fairytales, in conversations. If Alastor didn't know any better, he might think that they were all related to his wound. But how could that be? What might love have to do with the Mark of Judgment?
Charlie thought otherwise. She was already scribbling notes and connections in her notebook. She wrote down everything he had shared about his conversation with Zestial and what little he uncovered from the books he had discovered in the library. Most of which he still had to dig through.
She redrew the diagram of himself, furiously coloring in the parts of his body now covered by the mark. Doing some quick maths over the course of the progress of the mark, if it continued as is…well, she didn't give it anymore thought, it was already a sobering deduction as it is, but she gave it little stock, as the mark hadn't been consistent in any of its development.
Once she had finally finished with her notetaking, there was still one point he had yet to bring up, sure that it had nothing to do with the mark at all.
Alastor retrieved the old book of poetry and flipped through it. She watched him, her facial expression betraying no emotion as he did so. Once he got to the desired page, he turned it towards her, indicating the poem she bookmarked. The one starting with "Bonded by the Soul!"
Before he had even inhaled to speak, Charlie had turned a dark shade of puce, her eyes wide. Her round, searching eyes looked from the book to him, and back again, awaiting whatever it is that he wanted to say. But her reaction gave him a minute of pause and he glanced at her, confused.
"What is it, my dear? I was meaning to ask you the importance of this poem. Why did you bookmark it?"
"Umm," she began, struggling to find an excuse. "I- I thought it was interesting," she stammered.
Alastor wasn't convinced. His perceptive gaze pierced right through her. "Just interesting? There must be more to it than that. Explain it to me."
Charlie cursed Niffty and Husk for putting strange thoughts into her head. When she had bookmarked the poem it was because it resonated with her deeply on some level. She found it lovely and sweet. The vision it conjured in her mind gave way to an unexpected image:
The thing without a name that she always struggled to describe her relationship with Alastor.
Bonded by the Soul!
Four halves that make a whole.
Fate shall shake you at the core,
And from the deepest depth you'll bore…
A balm to soothe the heart,
Your perfect counterpart.
No sacred vows, no Earthly writ
But even Lovers bow to it!
Alastor read it aloud softly, trying to glean some meaning from it as he waited for Charlie's answer. But still she hesitated, her tongue in knots.
"What do you think it means by 'Four halves that make a whole'?" he asked instead, genuinely curious of her interpretation. "Why isn't it two halves?"
Charlie could answer that at least. "I thought it meant rather than one half of each person making a whole… that it means that each person is whole on their own. And together as complete people they form that bond."
"How precious," Alastor mused, his fingers gliding over the page. He looked at her still pained expression and softened, deciding to offer her an out instead. Clearly she was uncomfortable talking about this with him. "It reminded you of Vagatha, did it not?"
"Huh?"
"This poem, it's why you saved it. You and your lady love share something akin to this." Alastor said it without a question. He knew what little he did of a woman's heart. They didn't like having it on display. And it was clear enough by Charlie's reluctance to speak, that they were entering private territory. Reserved for lovers.
"Umm, n-not exactly…" the demoness spoke, voice shaky.
Alastor waved her off, closing the small book of poetry. He regretted bringing it up in the first place, forever reminded of his place with the hotelier. He wasn't sure why it bothered him so much, this knowledge. But there was a small part of him, a closed off part, that had imagined the poem was about the two of them. And he wanted to hear that from the blonde's black lips. But that was an absurd thought now, why in Hell would it have anything to do with the two of them?
He stood then, returning to work at his console. He couldn't magic away the damage he had done to it in a previous fit of frustrated rage, its delicate controls demanding a more specific touch. He had been fixing it for the sole purpose of broadcasting about the hotel, as he had promised his demon belle.
But now the Radio Demon felt a sliver of stupidity coursing through his veins. And how he hated to feel like a fool, banking on something as silly as a poem. On this undisclosed connection of theirs. All the talking, analyzing of his death mark, and physical proximity didn't necessarily mean a thing when one half of this 'partnership' was already taken.
Feeling vexed, Alastor ran long claws through his hair, wondering what was keeping Charlie from just leaving at this point. What even tied her to this place by his side?
When he turned around to finally look at her, to see what was holding her captive in her own silence, he saw she was staring at him with intensity. A silent war raged behind her eyes and she bit her lip to hold back the words threatening to pour out.
"Char-"
"Al-"
"Don't hurt yourself, dear," Alastor said, his bitter emotions of moments ago shaping into stoicism, his mask slipping back into place.
"Al, listen…" she said, her clenched fists summoning what courage she had to continue.
He spared a glance over his shoulder as his body remained centered on his work. He'd let her say what she needed to, but a part of him refused to face it head-on. A haze of perfumed black rose from his chest and surrounded him. His mark shimmered expectedly, but he ignored it with force, not even noticing the air around him had grown dense like a fog.
"It reminded me of us," came the soft admission.
Alastor turned his full body now, looking down at the demoness. Her head was bowed, an attempt to hide the full-extent of her blood red cheeks.
"I beg your pardon?" he asked, not fully sure he heard her correctly and wanting to be absolutely certain. His eyes glowed, powered by some unseen emotion.
She tilted her head back up, her own eyes ablaze with a yellow fire, red horns peeking. "It reminded me of us, Alastor. The poem. That's why I saved it."
It was all he needed to hear.
He marched back up to her and placed his hands under her arms, lifting her from her seat. She squawked in surprise as he twirled her in the air like a weightless doll. A smile sprung upon her face, in both shock and amazement. He looked so… relieved.
"Al! What're you–"
He placed her upon the edge of the table and immediately invaded her space, entering the spot he favored between her knees. He put two gloved palms against her thighs and drew them up to her hips to push her further onto the table. She yelped at the sudden touch, caught completely off guard. He moved too fast for her to even react.
"What defines us, my darling?" he whispered into her ear, his hands grasping at her jacket, threatening to tear it right off of her. He couldn't see what he was doing, only act. His body controlled like a puppet on a string. But he didn't fight it, just allowed himself to be carried.
She shivered at his breath, still reeling from the complete change in atmosphere. She panted slightly, winded. Her mind a cacophony of unfinished business. Her partner's reaction was as far away from the realm of possibility as she could've imagined. He seemed so much happier, so overwhelmed with energy. She squirmed at his touch, feeling more and more aware of their proximity this time, unshaded by the haze of alcohol. Too sober.
"That's just it–" her voice shuddered, feeling a claw clip at her undershirt. "I don't have the words! We're like best friends–"
He squeezed her waist, shutting her up. His voice dropped low, staticky and thick. "Do you let all your best friends touch you like this?" he hissed. His hand slipped beneath her jacket and snaked around to the small of her back. He pressed her forward until she was forced to lean against him, her hands coming to rest at his shoulders, their cheeks side by side. His other hand came around and gently skimmed her bottom.
"Al!" she gasped. There were some lines that still went acknowledged. And even if he was messing with her, this was a jest that went beyond what she was equipped to handle. Her face exploded into warmth. "What's gotten into you?" she murmured, her voice stolen away.
He didn't have an answer, his eyes lidded and glazed, drunk on something besides alcohol.
His teeth sharpened, and his antlers grew, his eyes forming into circled dials. A silent battle coursed through him as he fought whatever passion controlled him now.
"The Mark…" he wheezed out between clenched canines. The deer demon pushed off of her then, chest pounding. He doubled over and attempted to reel back his impulsivity. Every fiber of his being longed to reach out and touch her again, hold her against him. To say whatever he wanted to say.
Charlie watched him, concern masking her surprise. "Does it hurt?" she asked, placing a light palm against him.
A shiver went down his back and he corrected himself, drawing his body back into normalcy. His breathing slowed and his crooked spine realigned. Alastor didn't know how much of that was the mark on his chest and how much of it was just the heightened version of what he already felt.
He really had to get a hold of himself before something happened that he really couldn't control. It scared him, how much he couldn't trust his own body, as someone who once commanded his movements with ease.
The deer demon turned back to his companion, fully composed. He straightened his collar, a picture of calm. "Apologies, my dear. I was overwhelmed for a moment."
Charlie raised a brow, not entirely upset (though she figured she should've been.) She just laughed it off, a nervous chuckle. Her confession regarding the blasted poem came and went a lot easier than she expected, happy with the reaction of her partner, despite how unexpected it was.
A part of her hesitated though, wishing she could have responded in a more coherent way… a more reciprocal way. Her face warmed again and she turned her attention back to him, asking after his well being.
"I'm fine, ma chérie," he coughed out, his mood significantly dimmed from a moment ago.
She pouted and reached out after him, disliking the melancholy that tinged his tone. She wanted that joy back, that side of him that already felt so rare and privileged.
Charlie gripped his sleeve and pulled, the deer demon stumbling back over without a fight. She wrapped a cautious arm around him and searched his expression. His crimson eyes glowed, an unsureness tinging the edges; A reluctance. She made all the decisions for him then. She placed her other arm around him, pressing a palm over his head and pulled him into her neck. She stroked his hair, a comforting gesture. A gesture of thanks. A gesture to soothe.
His arms folded around Charlie's back in response and he crushed her to him. Red eyes blinking closed as he breathed her in, the clarity of her presence banishing any and all uneasiness away.
They remained like that for a long time. Enclosed in each others' arms, pressing and entangling themselves as close as they could get. It was a desperate hug without words or explanation, much like the connection that entwined them now. Nameless and unspoken.
…
Upon returning to his bedroom, the Radio Demon fell against his door, drained. His emotions have been on a live-wire lately, his feelings turned up to their maximum setting. He wasn't sure if he could keep it up at this rate, his wound working him into a fervor every time he spent even a minute in the presence of the Princess of Hell.
He tugged at his clothes, sick of the way the sticky fabric stuck to his now massive stain. It irked him the way the Mark would just decide to interfere out of nowhere, to press into him some fiery need to reach out and touch or to feel. He made those decisions just fine on his own, thank you very much.
And tonight was no exception. The second those words left his companion's black lips, the tenderness of her admission entering his brain and swirling throughout his mind, Alastor acted. Practically on some animal instinct, he lunged for his demon belle and placed his hands all over her, wherever he could touch. He was lucky she was so caught off guard and mildly receptive, otherwise that ordeal could have ended a lot more unpleasant for the both of them.
Instead, it ended sweetly. Their bond being sealed with a hug and a newfound title in which to refer to their connection. 'By the soul,' he thought, playing with the words in his mind. It still surprised him to know she might feel any such way towards the beast that he was. To know that she felt a link beyond mere partnership.
But it was this damn Mark that was making him act up, spurning him towards ungentlemanly behavior. Trouble was awaiting him any day now, or at least a much needed slap in the face.
His shadow appeared then, making itself known by wrapping its form around his bedpost. It grinned down at him, a blue-streaked smile.
"You can't blame the Mark for everything. Your actions are yours alone."
Alastor flopped a claw in its direction, annoyed. "Begone. Let me have this," he groaned. Not even a moment's peace… he couldn't even lie to himself without something calling him out.
He dragged himself to his bed, knowing an unsound sleep would await him despite his exhaustion. His dreams would be plagued by her now, as they have been, a constant reminder of what eluded him still.
…
It was another Redemption Activity Day and Charlie was pumped and ready. Well, as pumped and ready as she could be while constantly imagining the black mark worming its way down Alastor's arms.
She wasn't even sure what to do anymore, a part of her still wondering if redemption was the answer to his problem. There was so much random information now, so much conflicting noise. So much she couldn't control while the Radio Demon was out there doing anything in his power not to reign himself in.
She made him promise to cool it on the committing acts of violence for at least a week and he reluctantly agreed, positive that the opportunities to do so were limited anyway. As empty as a promise of his might seem, she hoped it was enough to stay his hand for now while she continued to mull over ideas.
It was still early in the morning and Charlie found herself walking towards the kitchen, hoping to catch the hotel and its guests waking up and seeking out a spot for breakfast. The hotelier often missed this part of the day, being so busy running around elsewhere. It was nice to be able to wander in and see what an early Hazbin Hotel morning might look like.
In the kitchen, it was still quiet save for the sounds of pots and pans scraping against the stove top, followed by a whoosh of flame. She had beaten most of the hotel and the only people present were the duo of Alastor and Niffty, concocting some new dishes for the morning meal, as well as Angel, half-asleep on his phone. It looked like he hadn't even been to bed yet, judging by his attire.
Charlie and the Radio Demon locked eyes, the demoness throwing up a bright but shy smile.
"Good morning!" Charlie said, marching towards the pair. "What're you making?"
Alastor twirled a spoon through a large wok, flipping it a few times. "Some breakfast fried rice for the delinquents this morning." He lifted a steaming spoonful and offered it to the shining half angel, his crimson eyes sparkling. "Care to try?"
Feeling particularly amped up by the promise of the day, Charlie nodded, her eyes wide with anticipation.
"Open up," he purred.
Two eyebrows flew straight into her hairline but she obliged all the same, unable to resist. She opened her mouth with an audible "ahhh" as he popped it onto her waiting tongue. The spoon stayed put for a second as he drew it out with deliberate slowness.
Her cheeks puffed in awe at the savory flavor. "It's sooo delicious!"
Angel watched this whole scene with a mixture of shock and envy. He slammed his phone down and shoved forward, opening his mouth as well, his tongue sticking out way too far for sense. "How about little ol' me?" he said.
Alastor's smile quirked into an evil grin. "Ah, I do believe this dish might be a tad spicy for your delicate palate." The deer demon made a show of waving the spoon tantalizingly in front of Angel's face before tossing it over his shoulder. A cat's screech was heard in the distance.
"Aw, come on! You know I can handle a bit of heat." Angel smiled seductively, unfurling his tongue in a teasing manner.
Niffty shoved a spoonful in his mouth. "Here!" she declared happily.
Angel spluttered, choking on the hot morsels. "Christ, Niffty! You almost killed me!" His expression changed as he chewed. "Damn, that is good!"
"Delighted to hear it," said Alastor, pleasant.
Charlie sat back, chuckling to herself at the lively scene. She enjoyed the camaraderie of her peers more than anything, a reminder of the lengths they've made since their journey began. As well as the funny little family they have grown into.
The deer demon silently spooned some rice into a bowl and served it to the blonde hotelier. The pair exchanged a knowing look, acknowledging each other without words. They both sensed that the air between them had shifted since last night.
"Are you two going to eye-fuck all morning or can I get some too?" Angel interrupted with a mischievous wink. He knew what he was doing.
"Angel!" Charlie exclaimed, turning away to hide her pink cheeks.
"Help yourself," sneered Alastor, refusing to serve the lout.
By now, the rest of the hotel was filtering in, including the new guests, who have become a lot more comfortable with the idea of the hotel. In fact, they took to it quite well, eagerness shining off of them. They'd see how long that would last.
Overwhelmed, Charlie sat back and watched them interact with each other, pleased as punch with the fullness of her crew. She wanted more guests! More and more until they couldn't all fit in this little kitchen. When was Vox going to launch his campaign, she wondered. And when would their mystery guest arrive?
Lastly, Vaggie sauntered in, world weary. She brightened upon seeing Charlie and moved to grab the seat next to her. It was a brand new morning and the former angel was determined to start the day with her girlfriend on proper footing.
"Morning, hon," she said, planting a lingering kiss upon the hotelier's cheek. She snuck a peek at the deer demon.
He sipped at his coffee mug, eyes looking decidedly elsewhere.
"Morning, Vaggie!" Charlie beamed, happy to see her in better spirits. "Have some fried rice! Alastor and Niffty made it."
"He didn't put anything weird in it, did he?" she asked on the sly, but loud enough for him to hear.
"Only the finest ingredients," chimed in Alastor, eyes narrowed. "Suited to those of your particular standing, Vagatha."
"And what standing is that?"
"-As our amazing hotel co-manager!" Charlie interrupted, jumping in before the pair could cross verbal blades. The morning had been peaceful, so far. She wanted it to stay that way.
With an audible 'hmph', Vaggie asked Niffty if she could fix her up some untainted plain eggs instead.
Alastor drank a large gulp from his coffee, more irritated than usual at the prodding. Often, Vaggie's retorts would roll off of him like water off a raincoat, but today he came off particularly peeved. And Charlie undoubtedly noticed. She was used to Vaggie being annoyed at the red demon, but Alastor?
But she couldn't ask him about it now, not while she was supposedly eating breakfast with her girlfriend, and Alastor was clear across the room. In fact, he walked out of the kitchen soon after, words dying on her tongue.
"Vaggie…" began Charlie, her face a mask of worry. "You shouldn't pick fights with him like that."
"Are you kidding?" scoffed the former exorcist. "You should hear some of the shit he says to me when you're not around!"
"Like what?" asked the half angel, genuinely interested.
The whole of the kitchen was listening in as well, and failing to look like they weren't.
"We'll talk later," said Vaggie with a sigh. She attempted to bring back a smile. "Let's just forget it for now."
Charlie nodded, uncertain, her eyes darting between Vaggie and the kitchen door.
...
AN: Oooh I was really excited to post this chapter... they're just getting closer and closer... if you're curious, I got the Bonded by the Soul term from one of my favorite video games of all time! Legend of Mana. There is a song of the same title in the soundtrack. That whole soundtrack is genius and perfect and I love that game so much lol.
Hope you all had a good holiday weekend if you were celebrating anything! And thanks for reading!