𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐄 ★Alastor x fem! reader★🥀

Ch. XL ✡A Little Chat✡

40 chapters! Hot damn this has been a long journey! But we are now officially over halfway done!

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ONE WEEK LATER...
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FOR WHAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A MODEST STROLL through Pentagram city streets, turned out in the end to be a little spontaneous visit at the number one place a sinner wouldn't be caught dead going to just for fun.

Carmine's facility.
The home where all angelic weapons are created, only to be sold, traded, or dealt to the greedy hands of sinner demons who use and play with them like children's toys.

And yet, none of it is an interest to Alastor. The only real interest, and what has captured his immediate attention when he saw Carmine's symbol, was the fact that within those steel walls, is familiar company.

Or rather, a secret worth exposing.

Humming a soft old timey tune under his breath, all the while raising a hand to knock not once, but three times, on the door, Alastor stands and waits to be allowed entry.

His crimson eyes dart up to the security cameras on each side of him, his smile turning to a small smirk as the cameras begin to crackle and smoke, breaking from Alastor's little silent command.

This face was made for radio...not for silly frilly television.

The sound of gears shifting from within the facility catch Alastor's attention, and the door opens, revealing the dimly lit inside which smells of metal and...hmm, perhaps spice?

Someone must be consuming cinnamon in either a drink or a dessert. Perhaps the host or hostess will be kind enough to spare whatever is left over.

Alastor walks inside, continuing his static humming, not even flinching or jumping from the sudden door slamming behind him.

Or the sudden angelic blade pointing at the center of his face.

In the dark, a pair of crimson eyes stare at Alastor in a threatening manner. As if the weapon in there hand wasn't proof enough that Alastor's spontaneous visit was...unexpected, and unwanted.

It is of course Carmilla wielding the weapon. Who else would it be? Certainly not her daughters or whatever spineless sinner demon she's paying to be a bodyguard over her precious guns.

It's the very she-wolf herself. But honestly, how rude, not even a kind hello, just straight to the damn point? Even Alastor has more of a gentleman's code.

Like mother, like daughter, he thinks to himself. This must be where Y/N gets her...straightforwardness. From her lovely, yet oh-so-bitchy-mother.

Alastor raises both hands in peace.

"Relax, Carmilla. I'm not here to stir the pot, I simply was in the neighborhood and thought I'd check in with Hell's finest weapon's dealer," he remarks, "put your toy down, that way we can have a civil conversation without blood spilling. Unless you want blood to spill," his eyes glow, "I'll gladly partake in such fun."

"What...are you doing here?" Carmilla growls, her grip only tightening around the hilt of the angelic blade she holds at Alastor's face.

It's one thing to see Alastor and his masquerade smile at the Overlord meetings, or even passing by on the sidewalk. But for him to formally invite himself to HER domain? 

It's both like/unlike him. And Carmilla isn't in the mood for negotiations or small talk with this strawberry bastard.

Innocently, Alastor tilts his head. "Can't a sinner come by and say hello?"