𝐇𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐏𝐞𝐭

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: 𝐀 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥

           ∘₊✧─────────✧₊∘

Watching Alastor was like watching DaVinci, which Lucifer had actually done before. The Last Supper, a most notable work. When DaVinci was commissioned to paint the piece, Lucifer was feeling especially rageful towards his old man up in Heaven. Not necessarily due to anything in particular outside of the sudden influx in sinners devout to God. It was all very annoying, one must understand, to be a King whose people just wouldn’t quit yammering about how they could possibly be in Hell? They worshiped God like good little Christians. And then Lucifer had to be this bearer of bad news that they either worshiped wrong or that their God just didn't care because, really, that's just how his father was. Truly indifferent to the fate of his created souls, mortal and immortal alike.

Nonetheless, Lucifer had intended on destroying that painting during its creation. Plotted countless ways to do it, wanting to make sure he only gave it his very best and, hopefully, most noticeable effort. At one point he considered transforming into a feline and walking across it with paint splattered across his beans. Annoyingly, before he enacted any of his ideas, he noticed just how beautifully DaVinci painted, watched the brushstrokes on the canvas with rapt attention, and couldn't bring himself to do it. Was this not his vision? He gave this blessing (or curse, if one were to ask his brethren) to mankind, and he simply couldn't bear to destroy it.

Now, though, even after seeing a master such as DaVinci, he found himself more awestruck by Alastor's command. Lucifer wasn't entirely sure what the killer was doing at first, until he paid closer attention to just how he sliced and diced the corpse. He looked so at peace with himself as he did it, too. Alastor’s smile was genuine, small and cute, and his eyes were honed in. He hummed a gentle tune as he fileted meat from the bones, setting it aside onto a nearby porcelain serving platter. Lucifer's original confusion at the careful dismemberment of the late Mr. Wilhelm had long since dissipated, but there was still the lingering wonder for how the sinner fell so far from light and into such a wondrous abyss of pure darkness. So deep into the pits of wickedness that he’d developed a taste for man. He slithered towards the edge of the shelf he was resting on to get a better look.

With a quick glance up, Alastor noticed him. His words came out so gently for someone mutilating a corpse. “I hope that spot is comfortable. I'd set you on the ground to free roam, but I fear I may lose track of you. And I would be most disheartened to find you beneath my shoe.” Lucifer supposed that was fair, nor did he mind his spot on the shelf for that matter. It had a significantly better view than the floor would.

Alastor paused his work to stare directly at Lucifer. Deep brown, almost red tinged eyes bored through Lucifer’s own beady ones. That feeling of being exposed returned and the King felt the urge to cover himself with hands this form didn't have. But Alastor’s eyes were thoughtful, the knife in his hands pointed as a gesture not a threat. “You know, you'll be needing a name if you intend to stay with me, little guy.” A hesitant, almost saddened voice poked out. “You will be staying, won't you?”

Would he?

He hadn't actually thought very far ahead. After all, he was a King with kingly responsibilities and subjects dependent on him. Could he realistically stay with Alastor for any lengthy period of time? His current actions were already a major breach in an unwritten protocol he'd followed for the better part of his eternal life.

However, the look Alastor wore was so expectant, and the way his hair was flopping over his widened-with-mania eyes in such a cute way… well… It made it hard for Lucifer to imagine departing any time soon.

Perhaps he could stay for a little while. Like a month or so. Learn more about this thrilling variety of sinner and then return to leading Hell with the same vigor as always (which was not with nearly as much vigor as Lucifer liked to make it seem).