Adam's revenge // swap

Part 10

Adam's pov:

A wave of relief washed over Adam, so powerful it nearly buckled his knees. Lute was alive... some twisted version of alive, but alive nonetheless. Her golden eyes, once vibrant and full of life, were now dull and lifeless, reflecting the flickering flames that danced across the infernal landscape. Fury surged through him, hot and acrid. "Lute!" he roared, his voice echoing through the cavernous space. "You had a way out! Why?!"

Lute flinched at the sound of his voice, her gaze flickering between him and the ever-grinning Alastor. Her lips trembled as she spoke, her voice barely a whisper, "I... I couldn't let you die, Adam." For once, she hadn't used Sir.

Alastor's smile, if possible, widened further. This unexpected turn of events seemed to delight him to no end. "Truly fascinating," he purred, his voice dripping with amusement. "A selfless act, defying the very nature of this place. How quaint."

In the corner of his vision, Adam could see Vaggie stiffen. Her gaze darted between Lute and Alastor, confusion and a flicker of something akin to fear clouding her features. 

Adam forced himself to tear his gaze away from Vaggie, shoving his own turmoil aside for the moment. He couldn't afford distractions, not now. His focus snapped back to Lute, his voice thick with a mixture of anger and concern, "You shouldn't have done that, Lute. You had a chance to escape this hellhole!"

"I couldn't just not save you, Si-adam.." The old nicname haunted her voice.

Alastor's smile faltered for a brief, almost imperceptible moment. His eyes darted towards Nifty's lifeless form slumped against the wall, only now registering her absence. The realisation seemed to strike him like a physical blow, a flicker of something like pain crossing his features before he slammed it back down under a mask of amusement.

"Nifty," he drawled, his voice devoid of its usual cheer. A faint tremor ran through his hand, the first hint of the devastation he was so desperately trying to suppress.

Alastor's pov------

Alastor's smile, for a fraction of a second, faltered. It was a flicker so subtle, so fleeting, it would have gone unnoticed by anyone less attuned to the intricacies of performance than himself. Nifty's demise, unplanned, sent a tremor through his meticulously crafted facade.

 Nifty, for all her irritating cheer and boundless energy, had been...predictable. A pawn, albeit an enthusiastic one, easily manipulated. Her absence left a void, a disruption in the rhythm he'd so meticulously established.

He forced his smile back into place, wider, sharper. "My, my," he chuckled, a hint of something akin to surprise lacing his voice, "seems the little demon has finally met her match. A most unexpected turn of events, wouldn't you agree, Adam?"

His gaze, however, remained fixed on the spot where Nifty had stood just moments ago. Alastor wasn't one for sentimentality, but Nifty's blind devotion had, in its own way, been amusing. He'd enjoyed molding her into his little instrument of chaos. Now, that instrument was broken, silenced.

But Alastor was nothing if not adaptable. He pivoted, his attention drawn to the far more intriguing dynamic unfolding before him. The reunion of the star-crossed exorcist and his fallen angel, the simmering tension between them.

A slow, predatory grin stretched across his face. This little performance was just getting started, and Alastor, ever the showman, couldn't wait to see how the next act would play out. The demise of a pawn might be inconvenient, but the unexpected arrival of Adam himself? Now, that was truly delightful.

Lute pov:

Lute winced, the harsh syllables of her true name scraping against her like rusted metal. "Adam," she corrected quickly, her voice barely a whisper. The weight of Vaggie's stare was a physical thing, a burning brand on her back.