Hell en Pointe | Alastor ✓

chapter 10

It had been a week since your confrontation with Alastor in the hallway. You had been sitting by yourself at the bar of the hotel, making mindless conversation with Husker. You opted not to drink, but Husk had convinced you. You sighed and sipped your moonshine, one of your favorites on the occasion that you did drink.

"What's on your mind, Miss?" said Husk, pouring himself a drink. He added multiple different drinks do it, making some sort of concoction. "You look.."

"Stressed?" you finished for him. You then barked a bitter laugh. "Yeah. I really am, sugar." You chugged the rest of your moonshine, hardly making a face.

"What's wrong, may I ask?"

"You sold your soul right?" you asked Husk abruptly.

He looked taken aback. "Not sure how you know that... but yeah."

"I know all sorts of things." You waved him off. "Anyhow, let's say the Overlord that owned your soul gave you the opportunity to get it back — a very rare opportunity. All he asks for are some favors, but you have no idea what those favors may be. Would you do what he asked to get your soul back?"

Husk thought about your proposal deeply for a moment, and then said with confidence. "Honestly? I would." He then looked saddened, his ears dropping slightly. "I would do anything to have rights over myself again. The worst thing about it, I sold my soul to a psychopath." He raised a hand as a gesture. "And now I'm in this fucking shithole..."

He made you laugh, your voice melodic and soft. "Oh, Husk, honey. You have no idea how much better that makes me feel."

Truth be told, you were about ninety-nine percent sure you were willing to do whatever Alastor asked to get your soul back, to get to your full potential as an Overlord in Hell. But you just needed somebody to confirm it was the right decision. Of course, doing favors for the Radio Demon sounds worse than Hell itself, but he usually keeps his word. After all, when you first sold your soul to him, you got exactly what you wanted.

Then again, you died so fast, hardly getting to completely live out your fame... karma? Or just coincidence? Surely Alastor didn't have the power to kill you while you were on Earth... You suppose it will forever be a mystery.

"Why ya askin'?" questioned Husk suddenly.

You smiled, a little offended by the question. As much as you loved Husker and all of your other friends at the hotel, they were a little too comfortable with you. Had they no idea of who you were? What you were capable of?

You giggled, bringing a delicate and clawed hand to your mouth. Your teeth were razor sharp and threatening as you laughed. Your eyes glowed and your ears lengthened. Your gaze snapped to Husk and your voice became very distorted. "That's for me to know and you to... dot, dot, dot."

You were fucking hilarious, if you do say so yourself.

Husk froze. The drink he was pouring overflowed. He snapped out of his daze and scrambled to clean it, very clearly frighten. "Uh, yes. Forgive me. Sorry."

You reverted back to your original form. "No worries!" But a sinister smile still remained on your face as he cleaned up. You then stood up. "Well, dear Husker, I must head out. See ya!"

"S-See ya.." he stammered without a smile. You turned away from him with your hands crossed behind your back.

You were going to head down to the studio to dance a little bit. You had eventually gotten to ask Angel where a local one was, and he told you. When you first got there, they demanded payment. All you had to do was threaten them a little bit and they let you have a room in the studio all to yourself out of sheer terror. Plus, the studio was open 24/7 just to you and you only. Let's just say you scared them shitless.

After taking a casual stroll through town, you had finally arrived. You pushed open the door to the studio and the bell jingled. It was late at night and nobody was here aside from the desk manager, who was rushing to pack up her stuff. Her glasses slipped down her face and she rushed to push them back up when she saw you enter, ensuring that she had saw the right person.

"Good evening M-Miss Kitty," she stammered, almost falling over as she scrambled out the door after you had acknowledged her with a nod. So rude, these Sinners were at times. Sure, you had stricken fear into the entirety of the dance studio's staff, but they could at least pretend that they didn't hate you.

You suppose, however, that it did bring you the slightest bit of joy to know that you were so feared. Especially in a part of Hell you didn't even own many souls in — this was Alastor's turf, and the longer you stayed in it, the more people knew your name and feared you just as much as him if not more. It brought a triumphant grin to your face.

Once you had made it to your room in the studio, you decided to leave the lights off as you entered. You shut the door softly behind you, the room alit by the Hellish maroon moonlight pouring in from the large window to your right. It was covered by blinds, but it allowed enough light in the room to see what you were doing.

There was a sleek black grand piano in the back corner of the room, along with many cords connecting to speakers attached at the very top of the walls on each corner of the space. For playing music, of course.

You plopped down on the floor, removing your arm and leg warmers and slipping on your black pointe shoes. With a sigh, you removed your hair ribbons and used them instead to tie your hair into one tight bun on the top of your head — your hair wasn't perfect, but that's what made it beautiful, your dark brunette locks cascading like streams of water down your face and neck, framing your sharp and feline features.

After stretching, you decided to simply dance to no tune at all. It was always funner when you made it up anyway. It helped you to do solely the movements that emitted the amount of energy you wanted to let out, that allowed you to be as emotional as you wanted to with only your arms, legs, back, and core. Oh, how you loved dance. You hadn't cried at all since you arrived in Hell, and you had dancing to thank for that. It solved pretty much all your problems for you.

You did a sequence, a few small turns into a calypso leap, then onto the floor and making a large, graceful movement with your arms. You did some floor work gracefully and then managed back up on your feet, prepping into some fouettés.

That's when you heard a loud ass sound that make you fall on your ass.