𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 • 𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 (𝐡.𝐡.)

-ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴘʀᴇᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

chapter 3.) interpretation

"How did you become acquainted with her?"

"I've gotta eat somehow, don't I?"

—————

Reina had spent her night in the library, reading silently well into the morning. She didn't cease for a while, not until she began to hear the muffled noises of activity coming from the nearby hotel lobby.

She sighed softly to herself, closing the book and placing it back upon the shelf which she had found it. She manifested her cane into her hand, gently tapping it against the floor as she used her other hand to open the wooden doors.

Upon her arrival into the lobby, the first thing Reina had noticed was Charlie, zipping around eagerly as if attempting to clean up the hotel. She tilted her head slightly, ambling over to sit on a bar stool, nodding her head once to Husk as a greeting.

"And what exactly has Charlie in such a rush this morning?" she questioned lightly, feigning innocent curiosity as she drummed her fingers against the countertop with her unoccupied hand.

Husk shrugged in reply, wings flicking slightly as he chugged a bottle of the cheap booze he had resting in his hand. "Beats me," he grumbled. "Her father's comin' to visit or whatever—but she's got major daddy issues, so I think she's tryna make this place look a hell of a lot more presentable than it actually is."

Reina let out a little hum, glancing off to the side as she contemplated his words. "Oh, is he now?"

She knew Lucifer, of course—she would've had to have been an idiot to not recognize the name of the literal king of Hell. She hadn't met the demon in person, though, and she wasn't entirely sure of what to expect.

Daddy issues, huh?

Been there, Charlie, been there.

Eyes darting around the room, Reina had noticed the absence of Alastor's presence. Her mind flashed back to the previous nights events, lips curling up into a small smile as she let her gaze drift down to the floor. She was a little surprised that he wasn't down here—expected, but still surprised nonetheless—considering Alastor had always been an early riser.

Although yesterday's ordeal was certainly a valid excuse for him to break from such a schedule. Reina couldn't entirely blame him, but some desperate, anxious part of her simply longed for him to be close once more. Longed for him to grab her hand, assure her that he was there and that he wasn't leaving, so that the paranoid voices constantly screaming in her mind would shut up; he needed to be there, so she was certain his existence wasn't all just more torment and anguish in the form of lucid dreaming.

It wasn't, she told herself, maintaining her indurate exterior despite the thoughts racing through her mind. He's here, he's fine, I just need to be patient. I've waited 91 years, what's a few more minutes? He's fine.

Her mind was her most valuable asset and her greatest adversary at the same time. Irrational worries constantly scattered throughout her thoughts, internal voices screaming over anything and everything. Nothing ever silenced them—nothing save the bloodshed of others, and Alastor. The latter was certainly her preferred method of reprieve.