The Evening Street : RADIODUST

3: Willow Trees - Floral

June 14th Evening

Alastor licked his lips. He was starving and desperately needed to use the restroom. Plays can be excruciatingly long. Alastor thought to himself.

Of course, he should have known better to deal with his business earlier, but unfortunately, Alastor was not a city boy. Picture shows were rare, and performance theatres were non-existant. All that Alastor had as a child was a radio and the big great bayou.

Alastor walked down through the halls of the theatre. Burgundy red carpet, and walls covered in light orange floral wallpaper was the design of this specific theatre. Music began to echo around the theatre. The intermission had ended, and Alastor must hurry if he wanted to miss not one second of the show.

Even though this was his second show to Broadway, Alastor could agree that New York's Broadway was indeed a theatrical wonder. The theatres were pieces of art with enticing stories and brilliant actors hidden inside. When the production of these plays, musicals, begin, it is as if the audience is swallowed into a completely new world. Alastor loved it. He could imagine why Angel would want to stand in that stage under the light performing.

He walked down the hallway and followed the signs to the restroom.

Alastor descended down a few more steps. The hallway ahead of him is were the restrooms were located. Two signs hung on the wall, on the left, male and on the right, female.

There was a metallic smell, sharp and familiar. Beside that smell was a cotton candy stench, strong and leaking from the women's restroom... and strangely, a tiny smidge of jasmine and saffron.

Odd.

Alastor could practically taste the metallic scent in the air. As he walked closer to the restroom, the smell was thicker, stronger.

Perfume and Blood

Alastor's head turned to the girl's restroom. The smell grew stronger every time he took a step closer.

Sometimes there was the smell of blood from the female's room but it was not as dense nor raw as this. No, this was as strong as the smell of blood from a newly opened deer with its organs hanging out and dripping.

Alastor heard rapid breathing and a sharp intake of a breath. Alastor tilted his head and walked closer. He stood beside the door of the female restroom and waited. There were squeaker sneakers shuffling against the floor. Then a girl emerged. Her skin was tan with two dyed velvet pigtails. Her dress was frilly and pink. Two cat ears poked out from her hair.

The girl held a knife, pink and bloody. Hm. How Curious.

Blood, Cotton Candy, Jasmine and Saffron, Alastor listed the smells on her. He wrinkled his nose, oh, and sweat. Did she feel aroused from murder, or was it excitement?

"Hello lady, did you hear those noises?" Alastor interrupted her. The girl jumped, and turned to snarl at him. Her knife immediately stuffed into those hidden pockets on that frilly dress.

"What the fuck bro!" She squeaked.

Alastor examined her makeup, dark eyeshadow, strange contact lenses and black lipstick. Alastor might have mistaken her for a hooligan, but the girls' movements were practiced and clean. He was a killer, and he could recognize another one in the act.

"You can't scare me like that ffs," the girl said. Her eyes narrowed at him and at his shadow.

"There's-" Alastor began.