Chapter 15: A Change Of Perspective

[A/N warning for self harm]

(Alastor's POV)

I tug at my hair as I pace the room I had claimed in the hotel.

I don't know what is wrong with me. Why is her presence so distracting? Her scent comforting? We seem to gravitate towards each other.

I can't afford a distraction, a weakness.

My hand twitches, remembering how it felt to hold her. My body had moved on it's own to catch her as she stumbled, but unlike the touch from others, hers did not leave my skin crawling unpleasantly. It felt rather pleasant, soft, warm.

I feel like I'm losing my mind.

...

After spending quite some time arranging my personal quarters to my liking, I was feeling restless, and decided a stroll around the hotel might help sooth the tension building between my shoulders. The acid rain, and distant screams of the damned in the background, making for a wonderful ambiance.

The hotel was quiet, the other residents having gone to bed hours before. The only light in the place coming from a crack between the doors to the library, accompanied by the sound of crackling of the fire roaring in the fireplace.

Curious as to who else would be awake at such an odd hour, I pushed open the door gently, and looked around the room.

And on the window seat across from the fireplace that glowed with blue flames, was the object of my recent attentions. Leaning against wall, pillows softening the hard surface, her icey blue eyes closed in sleep. A book lay open across her chest, her hands still holding it to her, and her movements filled with restlessness, as her breathing picked up, then evened out. Only to repeat the cycle.

I don't know how long I stood there frozen, unable to look away, this unfamiliar uncomfortable feeling brewing in my chest. My shadow, quickly becoming restless, at her obvious distress.

When she started crying softly in her sleep, her breathing picking up more and more, as she fought against her monsters. Soft white fur standing on end.

That uncomfortable feeling in me, was only growing stronger the more panicked she grew. My shadow struggling against his bonds.

It wasn't until I reached out to brush her hair from her face, that I realized just how close I had gotten.

Pulling my hand back, I had no time to react as she gasped loudly, eyes popping open, and sitting up quickly. Her breath was coming out in pants, as she shook, her eyes darting wildly around the room before finding mine.

Before I could melt into the shadows, she grabbed my hand tightly. "Stay... Please." She gasped out, slowly calming her breathing.

I nod, not wanting to make her condition worse. That uncomfortable feeling letting up a little as I sat down next to her, taking her hand in both of mine. My shadow finally settling down.

We sat there in silence for a while, waiting for her to calm, my hands absentmindedly playing with her fingers. And once she was ready she took back her hand, leaving mine feeling irritatingly empty and cold.

"Thank you..." She spoke softly, trailing off like she wanted to say more.

"Think nothing of it, my dear. Being plagued by ones memories, is a common affliction in Hell." I say, trying to brush off the rest of that unknown feeling that had grown in me.

She nods in agreement, picking up the book that had fallen, and standing up. "It seems I won't be getting anymore sleep, I suppose I'll go back to reading. Do you want to join me?" She gestures to the sofa by the fire.

"I suppose that company would be more preferable than not."

She giggled. "In other words, yes, you'll join me."

I tilt my head at her reaction. "Your reactions are always peculiar. Most would have felt more unsettled in my presence, yet you seem comforted."

She paused in her walk to the sofa, turning to face me. "Alastor, you may be a demon, but you are not one of the demons that plague me. My demons have yet to die, and join us in hell." She continued around the sofa to sit softly on a corner cushion, her back to me.

I join her, sitting on the opposite corner of the sofa. Summoning my latest book, and a radio, flicking through the radio stations until I found something decent. Settling on a soft classical piano.

She surprised me once again by humming to the notes. "Clair de lune, a wonderful piece. I wonder if they will play 'Dark Night Of The Soul' on this station, it's a newer piece by Philip Wesley."

"You appreciate the classics as well? You are simply full of pleasant surprise."

She smiled at me. "You as well, judging from the way your fingers twitch to the music, you also play piano."

"I do."

"Interesting." She hummed to herself, focusing back on her book.

I opened mine as well, and together we sat in a comfortable silence. Music playing softly from the radio I had summoned.

...

Once it was late enough in the day to start breakfast, she closed her book, snapping it away as she stood. She informed me of her destination, telling me she would be in the kitchen if she was needed, and that I was welcome to come grab a cup of coffee.

My shadow grew more restless the farther she got from me, so out of curiosity, I gave in, releasing him. Leaving him to his own devices, and watched as he quickly followed the little fox to the kitchen without any hesitation.

I waited a while before following as well, wanting my cup of coffee, and the morning paper.

I could hear her soft humming as I approached the door. The pleasant sound, broken by giggles every so often, only to pick up where it left off.

The scent of coffee, seafood, and creole spices filling the air.

I opened the door to find a giggling fox demon dusted with flour, and my shadow, dancing around the room, while a pot simmered on the stove, and the smell of warm pastries coming from the oven.

A cup of black coffee waiting for me in my red deer themed cup, sitting on the counter.

That strange feeling in my chest was back, softer this time, more warm. Like when I had witnessed her iteration with the children of Cannibal town.

What is wrong with me? In the near hundred years I've spent in Hell, I've never felt anything like this.

I clear my throat, using that to inform her of my presence.

She spins my direction, and the moment her eyes lock with mine, a soft smile brightens her face. "Al! It's about time you joined us, let me warm up your coffee for you." She reaches out and touches the cup, when she pulls away, the liquid inside was already steaming again.

There's that nickname again. I never liked it when someone would call me that before, it always sounded unpleasant. But somehow, the way it rolls off her tongue is quite endearing.

"Thank you, my dear." My attention is drawn to the pot on the stove, curiosity at the smell of creole spices wafting from whatever was inside. It smelled like something my maman (mom) would have made.

"It's Cajun style, shrimp and grits. Or at least it will be once the grits are added." She pipes up, grabbing a black mug off of the counter with the words 'foxy lady' on the side in blue, and taking a sip. "I thought it would be an ideal to use the shrimp shells. Making the broth only takes a little longer anyway, and it has been a while since I had it. I'm finally able to eat spicy food again, I may as well enjoy it."

"It's been quite some time since I've had this dish as well. I wasn't even aware of how much I'd missed it." It seems crazy. We had only met the day before, yet it felt like I had known her for so much longer.

"I also have the beignets I fried earlier in the oven to keep warm. Shade and I, made quite the team making whipped cream, and slicing fruits to go with them." She had made a true southern breakfast. "I also made a coffee whipped cream, since you mentioned you're not fond of sweets." She continued, adding the grits to the pot and bringing it back up to a simmer.

"Beignets are one of the few sweets, I am fond of. If only for the nostalgia they bring." I sit on a barstool at the counter, sipping my coffee, and snap my fingers to summon the morning paper.

She let's out a small pleased sound as she stirs the pot. "That's good. My back up plan would have been to go out, and bring back some sinner bits and pieces. Though I'm quite sure Charlie and Vaggie, would both disapprove."

My ears twitch at how much thought she put into it. She was one of very few who understood both the Cannibals, and my, dietary needs. And lacked any malice, or disdain towards it. "No. I don't believe they would approve."

"If you do ever need it, I will cook whoever you bring by the kitchen after everyone is asleep. I'm hardly ever asleep, and when I do sleep, it ends with attacks like the one you witnessed thia morning." She looked thoughtful for a moment. "A couple of hours is usually all I can manage."

I hum in acknowledgement, sipping my coffee. It seemed like something we had that in common.

...

Breakfast was an interesting event. The other sinners seemed to be slow to wake, and the poor souls had to deal with the princess's lively chatter.

Angel, was the first to mention how the V's were seething with rage at the obvious challenge, Snow had put forth. Her spectacular performance the night before, had interrupted Vox's regular evening broadcast, when the fox demon, had her little tech demon, hack into his systems. Streaming directly on Vox's very own network, had to have him frying his circuits.

Groans were heard all around, as Charlie set an early time for what she called 'group therapy'. Which Snow, quickly made an excuse to miss.

The fox demon having mumbled something about having used ingredients, she had gotten for other meals this week, and wanting to replace them.

I being the gentleman I am, offered to escort her, only to be waved off. Her response being, that one of us should participate in Charlie's nonsense. Though it was said with that cheeky grin, that suggested she had said it knowing full well I would hate it.

She did however, allow my shadow to accompany her on her trip.

When she came back just before lunch, she had her groceries, and the scent of fresh blood surrounding her as she hurried to the kitchen.

After questioning my shadow, I learned that a pair of demons, had thought it worthwhile to try their luck with the lovely fox demon. Only to end up headless, with their throats ripped out, when they couldn't take no for an answer.

The thought of others touching her, made my blood boil. And the thought of her smiling, covered in their blood, had my bloodlust spiking. That unknown feeling driving it.

On a positive note, she had thought to bring back some prime cuts for me.

The day passed quickly, and try as I might to stay away from her, it never worked. I always found myself looking for her instinctively, craving her presence when apart. It was only once she was close enough for her scent to wash over me, that I would find myself enjoying a moment of calm.

Had I always been this wound up? Or was it just since we met?

When night fell and the other residents went to bed, I found myself in the library, looking for a certain snowy white fox demon, only to find it empty. The dead fireplace, a giveaway that she hadn't been there that night.

My shadows and I, spent the better part of an hour looking through each room (save the occupied ones), searching for the little fox.

I was beginning to think she had left the hotel, when I caught the faint sounds of singing coming from the rooftop.

I shadow travel to the roof, looking around for the source of the singing. Finding her sitting in a small corner part of the roof, hidden away from prying eyes.

My presence went unnoticed as her voice rang out, carrying a familiar pain as she starts the song from the beginning.

"Woke up again in the pouring rain

I feel the windows shake, thunder in my brain

Every thought is like a hurricane

Destroying everything but it leaves no trace"

"Four walls made of skin feeling paper thin

Don't know if they can take what they're holding in

It's death-threat, déjà vu, out for blood again

It's out for blood again (it's out for blood again)"

She runs her fingers through her hair, gripping it in a way that I am all too familiar with, pulling at it.

"I'm a cage, I'm a prison for what no one sees

Ashamed like I'm sleeping with the enemy

No one believes me, but I'm six feet deep

It's a monster made of memories"

"It's alive, like a parasite inside of me

And it feeds of the trauma of what used to be

But there's no shred of evidence 'cause I don't bleed

From this monster made of memories (woah-oh, woah-oh)

Monster made of memories (woah-oh, woah-oh)

Monster made of memories"

She stops tugging at her hair, her hands moving to her arms as her sharp claws sink into her own flesh. The scent of her blood, and that unknown feeling had my body frozen in place.

"My darkest hour made a creature

That feeds on the fear of everything I can't forget

It walks beside me, gun against my head

So I look terrified 'til I've paid the debt"

"Four walls made of skin, feeling paper thin

And I know they can't take what they're holding in

It's death-threat, déjà vu, out for blood again

It's out for blood again (it's out for blood)"

"I'm a cage, I'm a prison for what no one sees

Ashamed like I'm sleeping with the enemy

And no one believes me, but I'm six feet deep

With a monster made of memories"

"It's alive, like a parasite inside of me

And it feeds of the trauma of what used to be

But there's no shred of evidence 'cause I don't bleed

From this monster made of memories"

When I moved, I knelt next to her, taking her hands, pulling her claws from her wounded arms, and bringing the bloodied digits to my lips. She turned her head, looking ashamed to have been caught harming herself. Though she kept singing.

"Up all night 'cause I can't sleep

With a monster made of memories

Keeps me scared, so it can feed

It's a monster made of memories

Up all night 'cause we can't sleep

With a monster made of memories

Keeps us scared, so we won't speak

It's a monster made of memories"

"I'm a cage, I'm a prison for what no one sees

Ashamed like I'm sleeping with the enemy

No one believes me, but I'm six feet deep

With a monster made of memories"

"It's alive, like a parasite inside of me

And it feeds of the trauma of what used to be

But there's no shred of evidence 'cause I don't bleed

From this monster made of memories"

"Up all night 'cause we can't sleep

With a monster made of memories

Keeps us scared, so we won't speak

It's a monster made of memories"

She finished the song, trailing off for a moment before she spoke again, her voice sounding tired. "What are you doing here, Alastor?" Pulling her hands gently from mine.

The truth was, I didn't even know the answer to that myself. The pull that I felt to her was so foreign, but it felt so natural to be in her presence, that I couldn't deny that part of me.

"I heard your singing, and followed the sound." Half truths would have to suffice.

"I'm sorry that you had to witness one of the uglier parts of me." She held her bloodied hands in front of her, looking at them with disdain. "I've never had someone witness that part of me before."

All I heard from that confession, was that she was never caught before. Not that she had never done something like this before. Well, that just won't do.

I sat next to the little fox, stretching out my long legs, and leaning against the large scaffolding holding hotel lettering. "You are not the first demon to harm themselves, nor will you be the last."

She huffs out a morbid chuckle. "Thanks, Al. That makes me feel so much better." Though the small smile that graced her lips, said she was anything but offended. "You make it sound like you know from personal experience, though I'm sure the big bad Radio Demon, is far above that sort of thing."

"You are far too perceptive for your own good, my dear."

"It's normally only those who have a similar experience, that would sit calmly, and not lecture someone for something like this." She responds. "Thank you for just sitting here with me. It's something that I didn't have in life, so who would have thought Hell of all places, would be a place more comfortable than the living world." The little fox continued, staring off in the distance.

We sat there for a long time. The only noises being my static, and a soft jazzy tune.

After some time, I jumped as a soft white head hit my shoulder, her furry ears twitching lightly in sleep. A light snore spilling from her pink lips.

How could she sleep on a predators shoulder more comfortably than on her own? What on earth happened to this interesting creature to develop such habits?

Now I was in a dilemma. Do I stay, and let her sleep? Or do I leave?