Shattered Souls Make Good Pets

18

MAJOR GORE WARNING

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He hummed to himself, hearing the bustling going on around him. Kids occasionally ran up to ask questions or get attention, and now he was braiding Kansas' hair while making sure Texas and California didn't kill each other.

He noticed Alaska's scarf was hanging from the vents, and was playing rock paper scissors with Maine, at least until Carolina appeared, handing two plates of food to Alaska so that she and Hawaii could eat, and there was some rustling as Alaska crawled to the safeplace, an area in the vents that was bigger than all the others that the two sleep in.

There was some yelling, and Massachusetts came in with York thrown over her shoulder, running her hand through her short hair as he screamed like it was some action movie.

Hampshire started making fun of her triplet brother, Jersey following closely behind, and their mom had to tell them to knock it off and for Massie to put York down.

Chusi slithered up from the floor, her body poofing from snake to human in a few moments so she could lounge in a more comfortable form.

"They got Igor out of the cave," she said, "don't know what to say for him. Ate someone, Samuel's fixin' him up now."

"How badly?"

"Pretty bad," Chusi said, her head suddenly whipping to the door, "and out I am."

Without much thought, she slithered under the couch, probably to hide in it while the kids ran away, Maine standing on Massie's shoulders to fit the vent cap on, before they to ran away, leaving Alfred with Kansas, the girl watching the door while it slammed open, making both of them wince.

"What do you know?" a guard yelled, looking at him.

"About what?" he asked, genuinely confused. He couldn't read minds, although sometimes he wished he could. Probably would be annoying though, with that many voices in your head.

"The monsters!"

"...that's a broad term," he said, tying off his daughters hair as she waved to both of them before walking away.

"THE MONSTERS!"

"... what?"

"Monsters, they're big, got a white head" the guard growled, brandishing his bat.

"The wendigos?"

"I don't fucking know!" the guard yelled, Alfred flinching.

"What do you want to know?"

"Not me, the scientists," he seathed, making Alfred grimace.

"They're a type of woodland and ice demon, and they can eat anything," Alfred replied, "most have no preference, although there have been some known for preferring humans."

"Are they sentient?" the guard asked, scribbling into a notebook.

"Yes, they're a type of demon."

"All demons are sentient?"

"Yes... that's what defines a demon. A sentient mythical being." Alfred said, "Angels are technically demons, they're just a type of demon."

"Are you sentient?"

"... I don't even know how to respond to that," Alfred sighed, shaking his head, "of course I'm sentient, or else I wouldn't be able to comprehend the fact I'm being interrogated."

"Just making sure," the guard said, letting out a little angry noise before muttering under his breath, "fucking sentient things can't be used for slavery..."