A/N: this is a songfic. The song is: Crywolf ft. Charity Lane - Neverland Attention! Deviations from the canon are in this oneshot!
"Hmm ... Curious, curious ..." the reindeer-like demon intriguedly moves his ears and casts a spell. According to the description, it was created to open a portal to the world of the living. Portal enough for one.
An arch-like portal appears helpfully before Alastor and the incomparable depth of light and space is visible in it. But who does not take risks, he does not drink champagne, so Radio Demon steps into the sparkling space and ...
He flies, flies through the rotation of all conceivable and inconceivable colors, through many sounds, feeling the pulsation, as if it beats the heart of everything. He penetrates through him, but this flight cleanses him of his shadows ...
An exit is visible ahead, in front of which a pendulum swings, at the end of which a clock with Roman numerals is suspended. The only thing that seems funny to the inhabitant of Hell is the return stroke of this huge device, as if it were trying not to let in, shoot down, break an unexpected guest into ten thousand glasses...
Alastor safely flies out of the "tunnel" into the fresh emerald green grass. Taking a breath, he looks around and realizes that there, where fate brought him, is a deep night.
The guest of the new world gets up and goes onto a cliff, from which a view of the vast plain covered with twilight fog opens. He rises to the very edge and opens his arms, feeling absolute, limitless freedom from dismantling, aspirations, positions and...himself. The wind ruffled his hair, ears, palms and a red suit, wrapped his arms and legs around him, caressing and as if clothed in the mantle of immense elements, as if recognizing his brother and friend. It was impossible to look with a glance at the cup of Heaven that had tipped over the magician, the very one that Al simply did not have time to look at, Heaven without a scarlet haze, without fragments and clouds torn by them... Heaven, about which he could only read in one of the books from his a private library, Heaven, which, oddly enough, was not during his lifetime...
Heavenly velvet with its scattering of semi-obscure stars seemed to seek to give water to a deer-like, turn his head, drop it back into the grass and soak into every cell of his body.
Here he could become, no matter what he wants: an eternal traveler, and a settled inhabitant of the fields, and a great magician. The infinite nature has already begun to absorb him, already whispering in his ear, how many possibilities will open to him if he abandons Hell... How much he will be free in his aspirations, how much he will be happy. Every night he would look into the inexpressible eyes of this vast, independent and already so dear Heaven, each time trying to thank Fate, Rock or Providence for such an priceless gift...
Alastor falls into such ecstasy that he does not notice a small creature near him. Someone nodded in understanding and silently joined the unbroken feast of the soul, raising his head and breathing in the scent of an enchanting, free night. The latter throws soft hands, and from them the fragrant half-nooks of the after-twilight sounds slip off onto two travelers: the soft rustle of grass, the quiet singing of the nightingale and the inaudible but tangible music of the stars. The charm is getting stronger and, if the wanderers knew how to fly, they would have fluttered like bonfire to the sky, into the boundless Sky...
Radio Demon falls on his back in the grass and only then notices his companion. He fits next and exhales. A guest from the Underworld himself understands that he will not remember the breathing process. He is a little discouraged by the silence of the stranger and his devotion to the process of contemplation, but an alien from another world is only happy about this. If there is someone with whom you can revel in drunkenness with a cool, but so invigorating Sky, without unnecessary words and negative emotions, then you should not give up the chance to spend time with an random companion...They lie for a long time, watching the movement of stars and again forgetting about themselves. Heaven finally takes possession of their hearts, souls, minds, whatever belongs to both of them yet. The grasses swaying around them cradle the travelers, whisper something to them. The stranger falls asleep earlier, but Alastor, infinitely let in the night, listens for a long time to rustles, tunes, overflows, crystal and subtle chimes ...
