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Alastor was a man of many traits; above all else, he prided himself in being brutally honest. And as he loomed in the corner of the hotel's parlor, there was one statement that swirled throughout his mind repeatedly; the dull, monotonous buzz of sheer apathy.
He was bored.
And such a notion, to his mind, was nothing short of a tragedy of utmost sorrow. His presence had been required by that bumbling princess, the very thought resurfacing the annoyance that he had so previously repressed.
Why did he even bother to stay?
Almost subconsciously, his gaze flickered over to the bar where most of the residents currently reside; he narrowed his focus on Talia, a soft smile on her face as she socialized, a glass of what appeared to be water in her clawed hand.
Such a virtuous little doe, he mused silently, smile curling upward. One of the few times in which consuming copious amounts of alcohol isn't prohibited, and yet she hadn't jumped on the opportunity to indulge; unlike the demons she had surrounded herself with.
Although he had come to notice that the individuals which she fraternized with hadn't paid her much mind; he watched on multiple occasions a she attempted to throw in her opinion on a topic, only to be barely acknowledged. Obnoxious spider, the thought flickered through his mind with irritation attached. A foreign feeling of sympathy knotted in his chest, knotted for that damned deer, a cluster which he quickly worked to untie.
What was it with her? The thought flashed through his subconscious, one which he decided to further mull on as he stood and observed nothing in particular. Her individuality had been what had initially drawn him to her; she did not belong, for the sanctitude which she possessed evident in an instant — she was untainted, she was pure, and such a bright soul did not belong confined to the dismal chambers of Hell.
He had wondered if her true nature would be exposed if given enough time to manifest; however, such a theory would be proven false. The mask never slipped, all genuine smiles and soft words; he had eventually come to wonder if it was even a mask at all — surely it was, no? For if it was authentic, then why was she there?
Those were the questions that plagued his mind interminably — where were her flaws?
In Alastor's eyes, the weeks that they spent together had further solidified the notion that she was nothing short of perfect. Polite, considerate, empathetic, modest — she was everything that a demon was not. And it was electrifying.
