Soul Switched

iii. вad gυy

Charlie woke up with a long, relaxing stretch the following morning. When she opened her eyes, she forgot where she was until she felt the bandage over her left cheek. The blonde damsel scanned the beautifully decorated walls of the palace bedroom. It was rich in all shades of red with gold trimmings and dark mahogany furnishing.

She threw off her covers and stood up with a sigh as she wandered the bedroom on her pale, bare feet. Charlie stopped at a set of ten foot French doors that were on the other side of the chamber, parallel from the entry to the hallway. She pressed her fingers to the glass panes on them as she studied an intricately carved stone balcony on the other side. For a moment, she wondered if all of the guest rooms were this magnificent until a wonderful smell wafted beneath her nostrils. The young blonde became aware of how hungry she was and wondered what time it was.

The sky outside possessed its usual red hue as it did the day before, for there was no sun there.

Charlie skittered about the room until she located a massive, wooden wardrobe. Once she swung it open, she found exquisite clothing and garments lined up on a single rack. The mere thought of keeping anyone waiting in a palace such as this left her uneasy, so she simply chose an outfit without a thought before rushing to the bathroom. The damsel ended up picking a scoop suspender dress in dark violet, paired with a frilled, white, button up blouse to go underneath.

After hastily doing her wavy, blonde bedhead into a loose French braid, Charlie let it rest on her shoulder and hurried to her doorway. The sight she was met with after swinging open her door would have gave any poor soul one hell of a fright. The radio demon stopped in his tracks when he heard her frightened gasp at his bloody attire.

In all truthfulness, at first glance, one might have not noticed the gore coloring his daily red suit. Alastor observed her new look of the day with her utterly appalled expression. His same bright smile was stretched across his face as he straightened his staff beside him. Well, it was only a fitting way for Charlie to start her first morning in Hell. There could have easily been far, far worse sights for her to catch him in.

The King of Hell was the first to speak. "Ah! Good morning! Didn't expect you to be up so early after your arrival yesterday. Breakfast was put on the table not too long ago. Sadly, I won't be joining you. I had some affairs I had to take care of," he chimed, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

'Maybe it's for the best...' Charlie thought with a slight grimace. It was all she could do to awkwardly smile as she hesitantly nodded. The stag tapped his chin. "As for later, I'll fetch you, so we can discuss the upcoming future in the parlor," he informed in a chipper tone. This had immediately caught her interest. It was about damn time. "I'll see you later, then, my dear." Alastor twisted away from her and proceeded his stride to his room while humming a tune to himself that Charlie did not know.

Her stroll through the corridor after that was a cold one, as she had been reminded who she was truly staying with. Charlie folded her arms, and she suppressed a shiver from crawling her spine. She tried not to think about who Alastor was wearing.

'Maybe it was someone who deserved it...?'

After all, when Alastor had performed his gruesome display of terror in that alleyway, it was strictly to rescue her. He had begun to morph into something much uglier, much darker, and much scarier... The recollection sent a wave of goosebumps across her skin. Charlie had covered her eyes in the nick of time—something told her she would have never been able to unsee anything if she had not.

Nevertheless, the sounds of bodies and limbs being torn apart was enough to scar her alone. She expected to be greeted with nightmares the previous night, but oddly enough, she did not remember any of her dreams. She prayed it would stay that way.