𝓋𝒾. || "𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯"

182 18 104
                                    

chapter 6.) "restoration"

Talia had never had any specific reason to dislike modern technology; she simply had never held any interest in it

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

Talia had never had any specific reason to dislike modern technology; she simply had never held any interest in it. Yet as she exited the tailor with Alastor, only to glance across the street and watch the very face of such advancements degrade and berate the very individual beside her, her opinion on those trivialities shifted from impartial to downright critical.

But why is he singing out his insults—why does everyone seem so adamant on singing things? Charlie would be happy at that...

Alastor had noticed, too, averting his narrowed gaze in distaste for the events occurring before him. After a moment, he glanced over to Talia, his gloved hand outstretched in her direction. "Grab my hand, dear—this'll be quick."

Confused, Talia did as he asked, finding the world for the slightest instant to be nothing but dark—when her vision returned to its normal state, the pair were now standing in what she knew to be his radio tower, the familiar red of the walls helping to ground her slightly.

She blinked, thrown off by the sudden wave of dizziness which she experienced, Alastor squinting down at her with no small amount of amusement. "It's rather disorienting at first; I forget most aren't used to the shadow warping. Apologies."

Talia watched as he sat down at his desk, fiddling with a few items on his desk with his staff resting idly in one hand. "Okay, so, uh...what are we doing?"

"Showing that pompous, good-for-nothing piece of shit just exactly why he's going to wish he never opened his non-existent mouth."

Talia recoiled, eyes slightly widened as surprise overtook her. To see his ever-composed demeanor falter, it startled her slightly; granted, she would've been offended, too, had someone publicly insulted her in front of an innumerable amount of individuals. It was still unprecedented, regardless, to hear the way the radio-encased filter of his voice crackling and snap with static-filled distortion as he swore under his breath.

"And...how exactly are we going to do that...?" she questioned, nervous that her query would redirect his ire at her. The very nature of his sudden shift in attitude made her ears droop downward against her head, the tension in the room nearly palpable.

"You'll see, my dear—do try and keep up."

What occurred next was somewhat mesmerizing to witness. The very room around her seemed to flicker before sparking to life, a vibrant "on-air" sign shining its crimson glow onto the rest of the room. Alastor tightened his grip on his cane, claws flexing almost subconsciously as his grin widened to unrealistic proportions.

𝙖𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙘𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙞𝙣 • 𝙖𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧 (𝙝.𝙝.) Where stories live. Discover now