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Chapter Text

     "Please, my Lord, please bless our first born with your spawn. This ritual is a show of our devotion, our readiness to commit to raising your Earth-born children." Murmurs hummed throughout the dark room, almost a chant without harmonious it had been going for the past twenty minutes. A mortal form, barely gracing their adult life with more than a handful of years, was blinded and forced mute, head bowed in a symbolic pose of prayer. There were candles strewn about on specific points where the pentagram met of their points, red and black flames interchangeable to make a pattern, just as the ritual commanded. It was late into the night, a bloody moon raising in the sky to instill paranoia and weariness to those who caught the sight outside of their windows. It was the perfect time to fulfill a promise this family had made millennia ago, for they finally birthed someone with the capability to bare children, one who held the true blood line in their veins. Now it was time to bring satisfaction on their end of the deal to the devil, to give their Lord a legacy on Earth to finally spread his influence and corruption on to the world--all while this family got the perks of hosting the spawn, raising them to their hellish potential.

      Their first born child had developed into a fine adult, albeit a bit of a independent one, the family had worked meticulously to ensure that although the child-now-adult can handle themselves in the outside world, the commitment to the family was above and beyond anything else. This was a project with strenuous investment, due to most of the family being more devoted to their purpose and their gatherings under the teaching of Satan; yet this child showed much more... modern ideations, even from an early age. They wanted to go stay with friends, try out for extra curricular activities, and try visiting summer camps. It wasn't that they didn't want their child to experience life, it was just a burden to indulge their child without allowing them to become so independent, that they withdrew from the family and made this whole ritual more difficult than it needed to be.

     "You are doing well," the patriarch commented, to which the sacrifice nodded, their shoulders tense with fear of the unknown, but their body relaxed as if there was no danger to be expected. From the age of their first cycle, they had been informed of their purpose, that they were needed desperately to assist in a debt. Not one to question their family about matters that involve their dealings, they had simply accepted the information, and lived their life, knowing that one day, their parents, their whole living family members, would offer their first born's body to be a host to a parasite. It didn't matter if they wanted to or not, because what mattered was that their family retained their power and influence in the world, to make everyone happy and comfortable.

     The needs of the many outweigh the few.

     A sudden flame bursted from the floorboards, roaring with power and malevolence, and the family had to scramble back to avoid the burn promised by the heat. Their child was in the middle of said occurrence, but they did not wail or cry from pain. A figure rose slowly, a black shadow that seemed to manifest from the very pentagram. There was a glow at the top of their head, looping around the protruding horns, resembling a halo, but the glow came from a snake, bathed in golden hues and broadcasting light onto the Dark Lord who answered the summoning.

     The stature before the family was... unexpected. Rather short, and not imposing at all, save for the glowing bloody eyes and their equally hued horns. Six wings flapped once, twice, dispersing the flames into flickering embers that faded after drifting mere inches away. The many humans gawked in awe, not daring to be the first one to speak up, for although he wasn't terrifying by any means--he was absolutely divine. The quaffed blonde strands framed his pale face in a way that couldn't be replicated by any model, and even though he was shorter than anticipated, he still stood with proper posture, hands resting in front of him to rest upon a staff. The eyes of Lucifer himself turned to look around him, observing each family member before targeting the sacrifice behind him, taking several spare moments to wait on a reaction, but even the blinded human sat still, not phased by the occurrence before them. Lucifer knelt before the human, raising a gloved hand to finger at the clothe folded around their head, obscuring their view. "That cannot be comfortable, little one," he spoke, his layered demonic voice finally invoking a sharp inhale. He quirked a half-smile, removing the blindfold with tender movements. He could see before him wasn't a sinful soul, but someone who was pushed to do sinful things. The spirit within them was white, with almost mold-like patches of gray and black, displaying that the seed had been planted there. Once more glance over his shoulder proved that the family's mostly black souls were the cause.

      Charlie's heart would break at the sight of them.

     "We... we made sure she was pure of heart, to be able to not disrupt or change the path of your child, my Lord," the mother had called out, her voice wavering under the appearance of Lucifer's gaze. Pure of heart, but corrupted of soul--such a sad combination. If the poor human were to pass at this rate, even though the specks of tainting were no larger than the pad of his thumb, Heaven would reject them, and they would end up right in the middle of Hell. Maybe the poor thing would be able to make it to the Hotel, or maybe they would continue to become more and more like their family until they had adjusted to Hell, or--

     The sound of a lightbulb flickering on was heard as Lucifer realized his previous set of thoughts were... in a correct-ish direction. His sweet Char-Char would adore to have this soul to rehabilitate. She needed a pick-me-up, especially after the whole turmoil with the now-deceased Adam that occurred just three mere weeks before. Lucifer pondered this as he faced the hunched body of the sacrifice, murmuring to ask for their name. "What can I call you, duckling?" The nickname seemed to have given the cult-people pause, and that told Lucifer all he needed to know; they knew nothing about him, just the depictions and stereotypes formed over several, several years. If he had truly earned a sacrifice through means of a surrogate, then he probably dealt with the bloodline far, far back in time, before even Charlie was born. Before they even knew Lillith could conceive.

      The answered name alerted Lucifer of the current happenings around him, giving him pause and once again sweeping the room with his sharp gaze. A few have resorted to kneeling, their faces and hands splayed on the ground in a praising bow, or a pathetic display of groveling; whichever one it was, Lucifer had no interest in any of their intentions. He needed no spawn, he was a changed man in many ways now, and his dearest daughter had influenced much of that throughout his time as her father. "This sacrifice is sufficient, but not as a host. They seem to have a chance, a very important one. I cannot have it ruined by further interference of the likes of you all." His wings casted out, causing the standing members to fall upon their backsides, moaning and crying out for understanding, for his words to be explained. He ignored them for now, offering his gloved hand to the captive. Their eyes bled uncertainty, searching his face for an inkling of an answer. "I can take you to a more befitting place to help you; it is your choice. I still believe in free will, after all," he chuckled, using his other hand to summon his cane at his side after dismissing it earlier. It gave him peace, something to grip and ground his mind on his goal. "I won't lie; it might be scary at first, but I believe you have a great chance at flourishing your potential there. I have a daughter, and she would very, very much like to meet you. I promise no harm will come to you under my watch, and in turn, you can make your life better, deal?" He observed how the human raised their hand, their appendages shaking. Their soul was shivering with anxiety, but Lucifer could guess that they have been brain washed to some extent--it wasn't much of a wonder since they have yet to react nearly as much as their family has to his presence. The atmosphere was tense, for the family hadn't wanted to speak out against the Devil, but they also didn't anticipate Lucifer to do this. The sacrificial human let their hand drop into Lucifer's gloved palm, and the deal was set.

     Immediately, the sound of a key turning into a lock snapped aloud, and the golden light from Lucifer's halo shone brighter, a piece of light breaking off, shooting straight towards his new ward. They had flinched in surprise, the golden light forming a collar around their throat, chain immediately tumbling into reality to connect them together. The Devil smiled brightly, taking hold of the end of the leash, and raising to a stand; his human followed obediently, silent and ever the observant one. "Don't worry, little duckling, I got you, just close your eyes," he stated smoothly, guiding them closer to himself, an embrace forming between the two.

     A snap echoed throughout the room, and the audience gasped in horror.

--

     Hell wasn't as terrifying as most explained, or at least, not in the eyes of the recently deceased human. Their eyes glanced over the streets below, observing from Lucifer's window as the gentleman claimed to be fetching his daughter. Their fingers played idly in a nervous habit, peering back at their surroundings with idle curiosity. The room was apparently Lucifer's "wing" in his daughter's hotel, and it was decorated with the enthusiasm of someone who came straight from the circus--and who dearly treasured rubber ducks. The duckling nickname made more sense now, but who were they to argue against the reference their master decided to use? They were bound now, after all. Lucifer said the deal was easy to achieve, but they didn't hold their breath. This was Lucifer, the almighty Devil himself, who their parents had trained them to believe was a malevolent, merciless creature who demanded payment and made good on his deals, but when they were favorable for himself.

     This man, although parading around with the name... didn't match that description.

     He had chatted lively during their descent into Hell, running through his daughter's personality and her dream in being someone who can redeem sinners. Apparently, that includes the very human that had listened to his spiel. Essentially, he wanted an experiment for his daughter--Charlie. Her name was Charlie, they reminded themself, peeking up when the door in the far corner opened. Lucifer was the first to enter, but a taller, almost copy and paste of himself as a woman walked through soon after. She was bright eyed, buzzing with excitement, and had the same disposition as her father.

     Standing straighter the human--well, the used-to-be-human, offered a gentle smile, not speaking a word yet to ensure no offense would come to pass. After all, this is completely new to them, and while they did their best to be so fiercely independent as to not fear the unknown... this was a complete "as above, so below" situation. "You're here! Oh wow, you smell fresh! Er, that's not to say you smell bad or anything, just, when humans die, it takes a few weeks to fit in with the other sinners' decaying musks. You almost smell alive, but that can't be, right? Cuz--I mean, well, you don't LOOK human, you know?" She also spoke a lot like her father. It was sweet to see, and reminded the sacrificed human of their own father, who wasn't nearly as committed to a normal parent/child relationship. He was far too busy, and too interested in his offspring becoming the perfect host for Satan's spawn. A hint of envy bubbled to the surface of their mind, but they waved it away with a shake of their head. No reason to feel that way; it was just how things were, and it wasn't as if they ever were left wanting with other things.

     "Master Lucifer has said my appearance would change, I haven't had a chance to look at myself yet, but I hope it is acceptable to you," they replied, bowing as they have been taught. Charlie seemed to sputter at the behavior, and turned immediately to her father.

      "You weren't kidding! Now I get why you wanted me to meet them first without the others. So, a sacrificial lamb for you to... have a hell spawn for Earth? That's... an interesting circumstance. Wait... why did they call you Master? Dad! Did you make a deal again?" Charlie's voice went from sympathetic and kind, to scolding in an instant. Lucifer smiled sheepishly, curling in a tad at his daughter's berating. "You can't just go around and make deals when it's convenient for you! Especially if it brings souls down here, that's making my work harder, you know."

     "Charlie," Lucifer began, raising a hand to rest on his daughter's shoulder. "I made a contract with them so that way I could bring them here, yes, but they are already corrupted. Their soul was bleeding with sin, and I feared that if I hadn't brought them, that their parents would send them down themselves, and then where would they end up? This was the most efficient thing to do, and not to mention, the deal with me prevents anyone else from tricking them into one that would hinder any progress we would hope to make! You see? I thought it through!" He smiled brightly towards his offspring, who huffed, but returned the grin.

     "We will figure it all out. Human--er, actually that was rude, um, what can we refer to you as?" Charlie folded their hands together, smiling brightly and more welcoming than before. Blinking helplessly, the deceased being glanced from one to the other, noticing how Lucifer was giving an encouraging nod towards his offspring, while maintaining eye contact with the helpless one. It seemed that was the signal for a response, and so, a name was given, though as soon as the name was spoken, the glow of their now-manifested collar shone brightly. Lucifer looked rather proud at his daughter's puzzled expression. "Dad?"

     "See Charlie! I even have their name protected in our deal. No demon can take hold of it and control them now, I made sure of it. Our deal was actually way more beneficial for them than myself!" He boasted, leaning on his cane as he had a cheeky expression towards his daughter.

     "Hmm, that would be helpful, but... I think with them being a recent addition in Hell, we might need to think of an alias, just in case. I doubt anyone can find a loophole with your dealings, dad, but I have a nagging feeling that we need to take this extra precaution." Lucifer poured as his daughter commented, but he made a waving motion anyways, as if bestowing a great service to her. She giggled, turning towards their new hotel guest. Her hand reached out, palms open and up as she welcomed you to the Hazbin Hotel, and asked what alias you would consider going by for now.

     "How about...."

Chapter Text

     There were rules Charlie had instilled upon the new hotel guest before they even stepped foot out of Lucifer's tower, and they had to commit them to memory before even daring to venture into the hotel. Their alias was simple, sweet, to the point ; Priam. It was a bit on the nose, but it was a perfect precaution for those who tried to ask too many questions, for according to Charlie and Lucifer--many, many residents of Hell would try anything to gain an advantage of any sort, and until they have time to adjust and learn how to divert the attentions and tricks of the other demons, Priam simply had to follow the guidance of Lucifer and Charlie; though it was not like they hadn't been trained to do so up until this point, the only outlier was Charlie, but she seemed sweet enough to qualify. "Okay Priam, let's get you officially checked in! My girlfriend Vaggie will be just down the hall, so you'll be meeting her first; I'll introduce the others as we come across them--Vaggie, though, she's great--a bit rough around the edges, but she means well. I think you two will get along great in time!" Charlie explained with a strong air of enthusiasm. Lucifer nodded along, though his eyes seemed to have lost their attentive sheen to them. He was most likely just going along with his daughter's motions, though with him being the literal King of Hell, it left Priam a bit flabbergasted.  His personality was definitely not what they have been trained to know, but it wasn't unwelcome. Just... perplexing, in its own way.

Being guided wasn't new to Priam, but the atmosphere was far different than anything the newly deceased had experienced, and so while following timidly behind Charlie, they glanced all about the environment, taking in the bright colors, the various shades of red, black, white, and yellow, all with occasional accents of other complimentary shades. Lucifer, surprisingly, was kept close to their side, smiling and watching them attentively. Priam tried not to bring it up, but... "My Lord?" They questioned, their eyes meeting his with a mere tilt downward of their head. A new grin formed on his face, enthusiastic at being spoken to, to receive an attentive audience. He tilted his head into a shrug, a bit bashful despite his usual confidant bravado.

"Figured that since we came in together, we might as well stick by one-another, yeah? It can be scary seeing an unfamiliar place without a friend to rely on--and hey, wait, just call me Lucifer, no need for all the formal-shmormal shtuff," he said with a wave of his hand, dismissing the chance of even a protest. To call one's dark master by their name--it was disrespectful, was it not? However, he requested it, so it was alright to abide by... or was it a test? Priam pondered the possibilities as they gave Lucifer a smile and nod, complying with his chatter. Charlie was looking back, amusement on her face as she watched over the two awkward-seeming beings. Even though this being was supposed to be a sacrifice for the horrific burden of being a host for what would've been a vicious spawn, they seemed to be a delightful company for her father, who had more than his own fair share of empty-nest-syndrome. From the looks of them, the poor dear was hardly aged enough to truly experienced life, and especially not so if they had been raised in a cult devout to making them into a submissive lamb.

Charlie turned forward, eyes brightening as she noticed her girlfriend impatiently pacing by the set of doors that lead into the upper balcony of the hotel; a place where her father often got to over look the business, the few sinners that decided to chance upon redemption; though it wasn't too many, it was definitely plenty more than just Angel Dust. "Vaggie! I have someone I want you to meet," she squealed, her stride turning into a skip-run, which resulted in Vaggie turning sharply to witness her beloved's approach. Her soft smile and enamored gaze was cut short by the sight of the approaching duo behind the Devil's daughter.

"Oh, so he did actually find a sinner willing?" She asked, suspicious as always, but open to the idea as she peered towards the new comer, though her nose did wrinkle, and eyebrows lift in mock-surprise. "Oh." Charlie giggled awkwardly, whispering to Vaggie that she would explain more later in private, for she knew that the smell of a freshly deceased person would be so potent for a little while; though if they truly started to spend time around Lucifer like Charlie predicts, his own musk would coat their own rather swiftly. Higher level demon scents always spread and clung more effectively than the others--it was assumed due to their confidence and the many souls that fuel their own influence.

Priam stood in front of the couple with an air of nerves. Vaggie appeared to be the more stern out of the trio thus far, and her glare was rather cutting. They floundered with their fingers, twitching with anxiety under her never ending judgement. "Hello... Vaggie. I'm Priam. It's nice to meet you," they said, glancing to Lucifer, and in slight surprise, they found him once again staring enduringly their way. He nodded in approval, and so Priam offered a peaceful expression to counter Vaggie's hostile energy.

"Likewise. Look, since you're new here, to like, Hell and all, I need you to not trust a single demon down there. You can socialize, but if you truly want to redeem yourself, then you'll do best to not make close friends with them," she seethed, which caused Charlie to tsk after her girlfriend, a hushed warning spoken in her direction. Priam found the interaction sweet, but the anxiety of being in actual Hell with actual demons that could harm them set in once more, so much so, that they couldn't help but reach out to grasp Lucifer's sleeve, stepping back to gain some distance away from the set of doors.

"Vaggie!" Charlie admonished, while Lucifer looped his arm with Priam's, a smooth transition that had the other blinking in bewilderment. He gave a comforting expression, urging them both to step forward together. His previous words repeated in Priam's mind; might as well stick together. He had intentions on investing some time on them, therefore, there was truly nothing to fear--right? The Dark Lord of Hell took them into his care, he offered a better alternative than spending months being pregnant with his parasitic spawn; truly that meant something, right? Not to mention that deal, the limitations it set was for their own safety, and so, even though all of this was new, and terrifying, Priam accepted Lucifer's lead, nodding in understanding towards Vaggie. "I'm so sorry Priam--what Vaggie means is--these sinners have been in Hell for some time, and, because of that, they have a longer way to go to change the ways they've learned how to live down here. Hell is a bit... nastier with their freedom than what I've heard of above-ground. Old habits die hard, so to say, and we'd hate for any of them to take advantage, or mislead you," she explained while wringing her hands. Priam understood this and voiced as such, relieving both Charlie and Vaggie.

"Not to worry, girls. I plan on making sure no harm comes to them. The ties of our deal help them out a lot; not to mention, it'd be good to see first hand how this whole redemption business happens!" Charlie giggles at her dad's wonderment, while Vaggie just sighs in exasperation, but there's a fond expression thetr, and Priam knew then that the solem girl has a softer spot for the royal duo, even though she tried hard to not advertise it.

"Well..." Priam spoke, their fingers squeezing Luficer's bicep in an attempt to earn his attention. "I can't stay hidden here if I want to work towards Redemption, so, let's go ahead and get this started." They observed as Charlie's eyes became glistened with unshed tears, moved by the first determined soul who clearly wanted to do right; it was so heart warming! She hopes that they adjust well, and that her father gets a true glimpse into the real deal that Charlie has been committing to for so long now.

"Well, let me go ahead and welcome you," Charlie says, racing to grab the handles that lead to the upper balcony of the hotel. "I, Charlie Magne, officially welcome you to the Hazbin Hotel!" Her boast was accompanied by the opening of the set of doors, and much, much more background noises becoming apparent. Lucifer once again lead Priam's way, his host-personal clearly doing wonders. "Just take a look down at the hobby, you'll love it," Charlie commented, moving to grasp Vaggie's hand to follow suit.

It truly was a magnificent sight.

Chapter Text

     The lobby down below wasn't necessarily bustling, but there were a few demons here and there, not seeming to be doing too much. A small, darting figure first caught everyone's eyes from the balcony. "Oh, Nifty is deep cleaning again," Charlie commented, followed by Vaggie's sigh, but she didn't seem too bothered if her relaxed posture had anything to say. Lucifer made an off hand comment about how it was typical to see the tiny demon zipping about, always with a feather duster, or a broom. "At least it looks like Husker is keeping an eye on her, he's not behind the counter for once," the demon princess continued, making sure to point out each one with a simple gesture of her index finger. Said demon that she referred to was a winged cat of some sort, with a top hat and way too complex of an appearance for anyone's eyes to adjust to on first appearance. He was grumpily shuffling a deck of playing cards as his ears swiveled to follow the sound of the skittering demon, his eyes occasionally peeking up to check his surroundings, though he was safely leaned with his back facing a bar, which was oddly enchanted with shades of green and teal, very different from the rest of the hotel's color scheme.

     "That fellow makes a mean appletini. One of the better bartenders in Hell, albeit a rather unwelcoming one, but it's part of his charm," Lucifer says with a flourish, releasing the grasp on the new comer to excitingly summon his cane, giving it a tap--and promptly vanished. This startled the three others, but looking down answered the unasked question. The spot previously unoccupied by Husker at the bar was now filled with a chatty King of Hell, causing Husker to startle at the sudden appearance; cards fluttering around them and his fur standing on end. Lucifer didn't seem to mind in the least, gesturing towards the alcohol lined on the shelves while speaking. The interaction had Priam softly and quietly laughing to themselves, shoulders shaking at the attempt to hide the amusement they felt.

     Charlie began to laugh along, though much louder and freely, her hand coming up to wrap around Vaggie's shoulders. "He can't help himself, can he? It's great he's keeping himself busy and involved," she states, looking to Vaggie as her partner nods along.

     "He's very charming," Priam notes, keen amusement riddling her tone. They then lean a bit further over the railing, noticing how there were a few more bodies toddling around the hotel. One was a hellfire-toned creature, with ringed horns spotting their forehead, and a wire-like tail whipping behind them in a manner that reminded Priam of a popping fire cracker. Their hair was half shaven, and they dressed ambiguously, but modern. It seems like they were writing in a journal of some sort, overlooking the lounge across from the bar. Following their gaze line proved to discover another residence, one that had a blonde-pink dye job going on, one large eye staring pointedly at the older style television on a mahogany entertainment system. A radio sat silently beside it in one of the open cubbies, silent and dark. "Hey, Charlie? What is the purpose of so many different items from different periods of time? Is it all for the comfort of whomever?" Their eyes peered to the Princess of Hell, who nodded before beginning to expound more on her answer.

     "Yes, exactly! We have various sections in Hell that accommodate all manners of sinners, and since there can be quite a variety, we decided to begin brining in different styles of devices so everyone can have some enjoyment; although we can't go too modern, for the sake of the Hotelier's comfort," she prattled, gesturing with her free hand as she spoke. At the mention of the other person, Vaggie's eyes rolled, but Priam felt that it was probably a common reaction for Vaggie to make about anyone, really. "Oh, speaking of him--oh, I don't see Alastor. He must be out again. He's been going out a lot more lately, huh, Vaggie?" Charlie says, to which her partner simply snorts.

     "It's suspicious, but it's not like we can keep tabs on him. He'll show up eventually--although are we sure we want to introduce the two right now? They still--" Charlie made a sudden noise of exclamation, cutting off the mono-toned woman almost instantly.

     "Oh right, right! I'm sure it would be fine, though. Alastor is a gentleman, and he can control himself, I'm confident in that!" At Charlie's comment, Vaggie muttered otherwise under her breath, but it was unheard, or ignored, by the Princess. "Priam, let's get you down there; some of our guests aren't here at the moment, but you can meet quite a few here now! There's an elevator just over here that we can take; although you should know, only certain people have access to come back up this high--dad's rule and all, but I'm sure he'd be more than willing to give you access due to the circumstances. I'll have to mention it sometime." She chattered rather excitingly, though Priam was almost certain that she didn't know how to speak otherwise; Charlie was the most optimistic Princess-like girl they have ever met, though their social circle wasn't as large as some, so it wasn't a stretch to make that claim anyway.

     The elevator ride down was filled only with Charlie's speaking, and Vaggie actually sharing a slightly-sympathetic glance with Priam; it seems that the other has noticed the newcomer's overwhelmed state... and there was so much more to come. Priam hoped that they would get to keep it together until they settled into their room, because a first impression of a meltdown wouldn't be the best, especially not with the hellish audience before them. "Oh hey! There you ladies are; here, I got Husk to make some refreshments for us!" Lucifer beamed as he presented two pretty glasses, one obviously a martini style with a slice of apple clinging to its rim, and the other being a slim flute. The champagne glass was handed to Charlie, while the other was offered towards Priam, who floundered at the kind gesture. "Don't worry, I asked for this to be no alcoholic; wouldn't want to ruin your streak before you began, huh?" He said with a wink, nudging the rim of the glass to Priam's bottom lip. "Just a small taste, I promise it's delicious."

     "Dad, you're tempting," Charlie spoke, holding her beverage with grace. It was assumed Vaggie didn't indulge, since she didn't have any drink to speak of, and she didn't seemed bothered by it.

     "I am not! How can you tempt without sin? It's clean," he insists, watching as Priam took a curious sip, their fingers grasping the neck of the glass from Lucifer's, the leather of his gloves feeling expensive and well taken care of. He smiled, murmuring a "very good, little one", and it felt warm, caring. "How's it taste, mm?" He questioned, leaning heavily on his cane as he produced his own from thin air, though this one was richer in color, a golden hue that resembled the scalera of his eyes. Priam licked their lips, eyes fluttering as they took in the hints of honey, a sweet tang of classic syrup, and of course, the sharp bite of a green apple. A smile curled their lips, voicing their delight with bright praise. "Hear that, barkeep? Another satisfied customer," Lucifer called over his shoulder, and that's when Priam noticed that the cat-man had been peering at the direction this whole time. He scoffed at the words, his clawed paws waving dismissals towards the group. "Husker, don't be shy, come say hello to Priam." Lucifer spoke with a friendly authority to his tone, as if he was giving direction without offense.

     "Yeah, yeah, your highness. Man, you're fresh aren't you, kid? I smelt you as soon as the elevator hit our floor. Name's Husker, most people just default to Husk, though." The feline said, his overall disposition speaking with the swagger of someone who came from an experienced background. From the motif he carried, Priam presumed him to be from a casino, noticing just how many symbols that littered the cat's wings and facial features. His lemon tinted irises stood out the most, though, and they were dotted with a pin-pricked pupil that darted all across Priam's physical form, dissecting the appearance, no doubt a habit formed from a gambling background. Priam's head bounced in a nod at his comment, politely sipping from their beverage as they mulled the words over.

     "Husk--Husky--like your voice, which I like by the way. I am new, quite new, actually. I really like cats, um, how... is it rude to ask how cat-like you are? Like, does it end in appearance, or is there somethings that stick to your personality, too?" Their question was innocent, a bit guarded in case of offense. Husk noted their level of awareness, and how they tried to buffer any negative outcomes with nudging the boarder. He gave a lopsided smile and a half shrug.

     "You know what they say about curiosity and the cat. Maybe I'll show you sometime, kid," he answered, avoiding the topic completely, but not being unfriendly about it, who made Priam not feel rejected; instead, they anticipated their next interaction with barely-concealed giddy.

Chapter Text

     "AHA!" Cried the small, darting girl from before, stabbing what looked like a rather large sewing needle into the floor rapidly, taking a few lives of some small roaches. Priam stepped back once in alarm, while the others seemed unbothered, their gazes pinning Nifty down in expectancy. The small girl rose onto her feet, cackling manically. "I GOT THEM! Finally, hehe!" Her glee was heightened when Husk patted the top of her head in praise, but then he plucked the needle from her hand, momentarily distracting her from the victory.

     "Nifty, say hello to Priam," he encouraged, using his free hand to gesture towards the mentioned one. Nifty's large eye rolled over to Priam, taking them in for a few moments, but then she immediately went to climb up Priam's body, holding on to their clothing for leverage, all while Priam helplessly threw their hands up, not sure whether to smack the energetic person, or leave it be. Lucifer began to laugh under his breath, so the other figured that Nifty did this a lot. Her globe of an eye invaded the vision of the newly deceased being, intense and observing in her own way. "She's harmless... mostly," Husk's voice claimed, but Priam could see nothing but the hyperactive girl in front of her.

     "Hi, I'm Nifty! Why do you smell like that--not that it's icky, it's not, it's delicious! Oh--you are new, silly me, but hey, you're cute, but not a bad boy type of cute. Just cute. Say, do you like roaches? I just got some for crafts, and I need to measure your head for something, you look like an average sized head--hmmm, how to you feel about tiaras? Pshhh, what am I kidding, everyone loves tiaras!" She rambled on as her clamored from Priam's chest to their shoulders, then around their back until she finally sat atop of their head, spidery fingers ruffling through their hair as she continued her chatter. The other thought it weird that as Nifty touched about, their ears were flicking about, but they couldn't dwell on that for long, instead looking for help from the others. Husk had already stepped away at the shouted request from the lounge, while Vaggie seemed to have disappeared as well, a panicked glance told Priam that she was interrogating the journaling demon from before, while Charlie and Lucifer were amusingly watching their cleaning demon harass the newcomer.

     "Um. I think tiaras are neat. It's nice to meet you Nifty," they said uncertainly, allowing Charlie to get into their personal space to retrieve Nifty, holding her with care as they both stepped away, though Nifty was wriggling a bit with a Cheshire smile on her face. "Sorry, Charlie? Is it okay if I... check in? I know I don't have any luggage or anything, but I'd like to take a few moments to breathe," Priam mentioned with slight anxiety, causing the two royals to pause their reading of Nifty, peering at their newest guest with barely concealed concern. The guilt followed in Priam, but they were incredibly overwhelmed now, and meeting another person was just a step closer to a meltdown. They knew their limits, and it was rapidly reaching that edge, especially with all of the non consensual touching and the never-ending conversation.

      "Oh, of course! Here, Nifty, why don't you make sure there are fresh linings for our guest?" At the mention of a task, Nifty broke free from Charlie's grip and raced off, leaving the three to quietly move towards the desk towards the extravagant double doors that no doubt led to the outside world of Hell. The stained glass had motifs of apples and snakes, a nod to Lucifer, and there was a glaring red tone coming by from behind the doors. The check in station was old fashioned, a homage to the early 1900s with how classy, but simplistic it was. Priam admired the wood work, and how organized everything seemed to be behind the desk. Charlie shuffled behind it, searching for something while Lucifer stood at his seemingly new favorite spot--right beside Priam. Oddly enough, they didn't necessarily mind the company, but it was mostly due to their almost blind obligation to the King of Hell, plus, he was nice. "Here we are," Charlie sang, producing a large, deep maroon book, one that slammed with great volume when being set down. "I just need to write down your details, and then I can get you your key! Every room is enchanted with a protective spell, so no one can enter your room without your consent. The other thing is, the consent rule is recycled at night, so KeeKee will revoke any consent given from the previous day, so no one can enter your place at any time, because surprise visits are the worst," she groaned, flipping open the book and turning a few pages, all while her other hand grasped at a waiting quilled pen.

     "Oh. That's smart, but who's KeeKee?" Priam asked.

     "KeeKee is my creation," Lucifer said with glee, gesturing towards the hotel with a flourish. "She's the manifestation of this hotel, and she takes the form of a black and white cat with one eye. If you see her around, don't hesitate to give her a snuggle; she loves attention." Priam smiled, noticing how Lucifer seems to love creating. He was an artistic type, and that spoke deeply to Priam's hidden passions.

     "I'll do that," they replied softly, moving closer to Charlie and taking the pen offered. "Hmm... my name, age, and my sins? Like, every single one?" They peered at Charlie as the young woman turned the book towards them. Their fingers were gentle, but certain as they began scrawling their information, albeit the alias used instead of their given name.

     "It's a formality, so we know what we have to work with for your goal of redemption! If you have a multitude of sin, then simply categorize them and we can work on the trauma and specifics in our exercises!" Charlie clapped with eagerness as Priam hummed, listing a few suspected ones that Heaven most definitely wouldn't welcome if their recent descent to Hell had been under other circumstances.

     A sudden unease filled Priam's gut, so they dropped the pen promptly at their sudden sense of dread. Lucifer tilted his head, trying to peer at the other as Charlie quietly took the pen, and then closed the book. "I'm sorry, it's often hard to face the wrongs we have done in our life. We will change it, I promise," Charlie whispered, seeing the haunted look setting into Priam's gaze. Lucifer offered his elbow, giving a comforting expression as the silent one looped their arm with his.

      "There ya go. Let's get you to your room, hmm?" Lucifer cooed like a doting mother, reaching his head out for the key. Charlie exclaimed in remembrance, moving to grasp a key and handing it to her father without fuss. "I got them, Charlie. Don't worry," he says, tapping his cane after summoning it once more. Charlie waved at the two, sympathetic as her father's familiar golden magic swirled around the two. He transported them instead of walking, making Charlie realize just how pushy she had been yet again. The poor thing was way overstimulated, and Charlie put a lot on them within their first few moments in Hell. They still probably haven't processed their death! Yet, she pushed for them to meet others, take in their new home--oh no. The princess groaned as she covered her face.

     "My dear Charlie, what is that smell?" A static-filled voice spoke, making Charlie lift her head.

     "Oh, Alastor. I wish you had been here earlier, I just totally flubbed a new guest's introduction to the hotel! Ugh, I'm such a loser," she bemoaned. Alastor's never faltering grin formed along with his body, materializing from the shadow that slithered under the doors. He peered at the lobby, taking in the dripping scent that brought something awake in him.

     "Why don't you tell me all about it," he hummed, scarlet eyes pointedly staring at the hall that led towards the bar and lounge. "I'd love to hear all about this guest."

      Lucifer brought them to a floor above the ground, which was appreciated, as Priam still knew that safety was never found on the first floor--even the second. Their fingers mindlessly pet at Lucifer's arm, following his lead as he mumbled. The key didn't have a number in sight, but Priam assumed that it was engraved, or had some magical enchantment that didn't obviously give away the room detail. Safety and precaution was taken seriously here, it seemed, but they approved of the actions taken. "Is this okay, by the way? Not afraid of heights, are you?" He said with a teasing tone.

     "I am..." They said, much to Lucifer's horrified expression, "but, I just won't look down from here. The balcony had very sturdy railing--and I'm sure these do too, but... yeah, I won't risk it," they laughed, relieving Lucifer a tad as he chuckled along, but more nervous than amused.

     "Well, if you have an issue with it, don't hesitate to let Charlie know; she would have no problem swapping your room. Ah, here we are. Just a few down from the elevator. Which.... um..." he turned shy in mere moments, peering through his lashes as he stared into Priam's eyes. He then sighed, holding his hand open. Magic formed, and a shape took hold--that being, a rubber duck. It had a small top hat like Lucifer's, with an apple resting in its beak. It was rather adorable, and Priam took it with a fond expression. "Look. If you ever want to... you know, visit, or, say, 'hang out' like the kids say... I give you permission to come to my floor, anytime. Gotta stick together, right?" He radiated nervous energy, but had a soft, sweet, hopeful look in his eyes, one Priam knew too well when they tried to make friends growing up. They thought that they'd be assigned to a solitary life, one where their parents controlled their every decision, where they only got hours of freedom in disguise as tributes to Lucifer. It seems that the work, in some way, might have payed off. Perhaps Lucifer and them had more in common than they realized. He must be lonely, too.

     "I'd love to, my lo--" He cringed at the title that was fixing to leave their lips, and so Priam corrected themself. "Yes, Lucifer. I'd like that. Will I see you later today?" They asked timidly, seeing him just beam from the outcome.

      "Of course! I help out with the dinner service occasionally--speaking of which, you must need something! I'll have Nifty drop off some snacks, okay? Any dietary restrictions?" His smile was nurturing, and it gave Priam a feeling of being well looked after; their parents did well with choosing the deity to commit Priam to. He handed over the key, and the room number's flashed along the neck, but only for a split second. Priam was amazed.

     "Just no pork or heavy lactose," they replied, to which Lucifer hummed, tapping his temple a few times... like he was committing it to memory.

     "Got it. Rest well, Priam. I'm glad to have come by you like this," he said warmly, but in the blink of an eye, he was gone yet again, leaving Priam speechless. He really was one for flair. They breathlessly laughed at the ridiculousness of it all, still not quite believing that all of this was real. They opened the door to their room and stepped inside, ensuring to lock the door once they were inside.

     The room was cozy, simple, but there was almost a sense of something not being... complete. Priam wondered if everyone's room was this way, or if the themes changed depending on the guest. "I should ask for a way to get clothing when I see Charlie next," they murmured, heading towards the center of the room. When they stepped passed the shoe-deposit area, they noticed a mirror on the wall adjacent to them, and upon first glance, they froze.

     What the hell happened to them?!

Chapter Text

     "What... what? What!?" Priam's panicked breathing accompanied their sharp, fear-filled words, their fingers trembling as they palmed all over their own frame, eyes locked on to the mirror. Each step forward was filled with hesitation, planting firmly into the carpet, rocking their body to push themselves further. They kept muttering, eyes frantically moving across their body. Their skin had taken on a deep indigo undertone, a familiar tone to those that had been dead for a bit of time. Their eyes, or at least the scaleras, were now tinted yellow, but it wasn't as alarming as their pupil, which had shifted from a normal, round kind to a side-sitting rectangular shape.

     They blinked, fingers touching their newly formed lips, which were stained black and had sharp points to their Cupid's bow, making the full petals look rather cute. Their ears twitched again, and they were now in sight, shuddering breathing filling the air as they noticed their ears... were not human ones anymore. They were fluffy, soft, a small set of lamb ears--the irony was a bit cruel, Priam had shifted into a slight chimera; a deceased human with traits of a lamb. They shifted with anxiety, peering over their shoulder. "Oh... oh no," they bemoaned, a wiggle of a cotton tail setting at their lower back, giving indication of their current mindset.

     "I... I mean, realistically," they began to reason, their eyes unable to strip away from their new formed body. "I just met a cat man... and a girl with one large eye. The Princess and King of literal Hell look like those tragedy and comedy masks. This isn't something unusual here. Maybe, maybe sinner's take on the appearance of how they died? I've been raised to be a metaphorical, but at the same time literally, sacrificial lamb to summon Lucifer... but why a lamb?! I look helpless! I look cute; I cannot hold any sort of intimidation looking like this in Hell!" they rambled aloud to themselves, finding it rather hard to regulate their breathing as they shook their head, turning to stumble towards their bed.

     They collapsed onto the top of the plush material, trying to even their breaths as they clutched their shirt in front of their chest, closing their eyes to shield themselves from reality for a tad bit longer. They thought about their comforts, trying to manifest the peace in their mind. Silk pillow cases, a weighted, lavish blanket, sunlight pouring through the windows that had blackout curtains for their sleeping times. A new room was beginning to take shape in their mind, one filled with familiar things and creature comforts, with constellations on their ceiling when it's dark, and flooring that felt as if they were walking through warm, clean ocean water, with clear white sand that didn't stick to their feet, or some ticklish strands of grass that danced in the soft breeze. A true breath of fresh hair, an oasis to escape from the depths of the new every-day life Priam found to be too much.

     They squeezed a tear or two by clenching their eyes, a sniffle following suit as the sensations just became too much. They grasped a pillow, hugging the plush silk to their face, curling into a comfortable fetal position. It was safe, familiar. They could practically feel their mother's hands stroking their locks of hair lovingly, hear their father humming along to the old record player he treasured so dearly. Although their teachings were unconventional, misguided, they had still been decent parents. They kept a roof over their head, never left them wanting--except for freedom, of course. They had a great education, were fed anything they craved... and they missed them, even if they just raised a human for sacrifice, at least the fantasy was good while it lasted. Priam took a shuttering breath, taking some comfort in murmuring their real name to themselves. This was something they had from their living world, and it was something they'll treasure while they navigate this crazy place.

     "Now, Now," Priam's mother chastised their child, calling their given name with a tone only a moment would emulate; one full of loving disappointment. That very same tone had always made Priam stop in their tracks, turning to face their mother fully, just as they had always been taught. "This is all very silly, child. How can you think of risking your body like that? Parkour, and laser tag, and all of those hectic things your school friends are into is a hazard to your health! What if you broke an arm, or got a concussion?" Priam's head dipped low in submission, an argument or protest leaving their lips. Mother and father always knew best, they have hardly ever been wrong, but still....

     "But, mom--" Priam began, exasperated at always having to negotiate for their right to experience life of a young human being. "I always take extra measures to make sure that I don't get hurt, just like I always promise! I'm just going to try hiking. It's not even a hard trail, and there's no rock climbing involved. Isn't getting in touch with this land important? How do we even know what He would want--?" they ranted, freezing after the words left their mouth.

     Their mother fumed silently, crossing her arms in an all too familiar gesture. "Mom, wait, I'm sorry. You're right, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have questioned what He..." their voice faded as their mother sighed heavily, her shoulders drooping to display her dismay. A pit began to form in Priam's stomach, hating how they always disappointed the very same parents who did everything to look after them, to make them prepared for a good life ahead. "Mom...? When.... when He does come for me... will I get to do some of those things? Once I've completed the deal for the family?"

     "That is something you'll have to take up with Him. Until then, I wouldn't be testing how far His grace will extend, child. I just worry that if anything were to happen to you, sweetie, that not only will He be upset, but you could suffer consequences you're not even aware or prepared for. Why don't you skip the hike, hmm? Isn't that baking competition coming up in a month or so? Why don't we both go into the kitchen, I want you to help me master this cake, so I can beat you this year!" Their mother teased with joy in her voice, as if the back and forth they had earlier never happened.

     Relieved to have earned her forgiveness, Priam agreed to all terms, a peaceful smile on their face as they lead their mother into the hall, their laughter bouncing off the walls as everything seemed to fade out.

     Time had passed in what seemed like a blink of an eye, but also a snails pace. Priam's eyes fluttered open at one point, realizing they had fallen asleep during their grounding techniques. Slowly, they rose to a sitting position, noticing in their peripheral vision that their reflection was still there, and still, unfortunately, the same hell-influenced alterations that they had noticed earlier. So it wasn't some dream, or fantasy. Their parents really had sold their soul to the Devil, who was actually a kind-seeming man that took mercy upon them and brought them to Hell. To be redeemed, and go to Heaven. Everything had been so... unreal, and so fast. What on Earth had Priam gotten themself into? They slapped their face with a whine, shaking their head in loss. Why hadn't they just ran? Why didn't they search for something else? They were dead now, and it was either redemption and going to Heaven--where who knows what will occur, or... Hell, which wasn't seeming so bad, as long as it was with Charlie and Lucifer, but they seemed bent on redemption.

     What did Priam actually even want? Were they allowed to pursue something that they chose for themself? Or were they truly bound to Lucifer's command of becoming his daughter's charity project?

     They reached up, gulping as their fingers grazed their throat. They couldn't feel the bound there, not the chain that had appeared earlier, nor the collar; however, they could feel a sort of... tether. "Lucifer?" They called out meekly, just curious if he could feel their bond, how deep their contract went. After several moments, there was silence, and Priam sighed heavily in reflection. Truly, to be bonded to the Devil himself was a whiplash of an experience.

     A knock on their door startled Priam, their ears flicking to pin-point any further information they could perhaps collect from the noise alone. Surprisingly, they could hear the shuffling of feet, and a clearing of a throat--it was on the gentler side, so most likely someone they have already acquainted with. As if a newborn fawn taking their first steps, Priam made their way towards the door, their anxiety beginning to boil under the surface of their skin the closer they got to the door. "Um... yes?" Priam spoke out, an uncertain waver to their voice that was on par with a melody that missed some notes during a performance. Unstable. Dubious. Their hand captured the knob within their palm, fingers curling around the handle while their body pressed against the door, curling in to brace themselves. "Hello?" They said after a few moments, now cautious at the lack of an answer.

     "Priam, do you feel up to eating? Dinner will be served soon, and Charlie wanted to invite you to eat with us," Vaggie said, sounding uncomfortable. Priam breathed out a swift gust of relief, then straightened their back, opening with door with a grin.

     "Yes! Thank you so much!" They exclaimed.

Chapter Text

     "Priam! Hey, there you are!" Charlie stood from her seat at the dining table, her eagerness quite transparent. Vaggie shrugged at Priam's side, smiling towards the lamb-sinner, who was nervously fidgeting their fingers as they took in the people sat at the table. There was Lucifer at the head, petting who was assumed to be KeeKee, cooing and doting on the cat gently. Charlie had been to his left, but there seemed to be no one else seated, which helped alleviate the apprehension Priam was dealing with. "We were just wondering if you'd join us," Charlie said, approaching the two with a giddy expression. Priam smiled tentatively back, clapping their hands together to avoid showing off their nerves.

     "Of course! Thanks for inviting me," they answered, following the long strides Charlie took to lead them towards their seats. Vaggie was seated by Charlie, but the empty spot of Lucifer's other side was where Priam was pointed to, although that wasn't particularly a problem, especially since Lucifer had momentarily looked up, his expression thrilled as he patted the empty cushion. "Thank you," they murmured, sitting themself down in the offered chair, making sure to tuck themself in and setting their hands in their lap.

     "Dad said you have some restrictions? I hope what we prepared is acceptable!" Charlie hummed as she sat, eyes directing down to the cloches in front of every seated person. "We decided to keep it simple. Alastor offered to cook tonight, but he's often mentioned things that include your restrictions, so dad whipped up some good stuff!" She said, intriguing Priam momentarily about 'Alastor'. He's been mentioned a few times, but he must be a rather busy man.

     "Hah, it's nothing, Charlie! Stop embarrassing your old man," he panicked, replying with a bit of haste as he grinned, waving away her praise. Priam giggled at this, taking a peek at KeeKee, who perked up at the unfamiliar noise. The single eye she held stared directly at Priam, though being a cat, she was a bit harder to read than anyone else at the table. "Oh, does KeeKee want to meet Priam? Huh? Yes she does! You must wait, though, they have to eat," Lucifer crooned, petting the top of the feline's head. He then scooped her up with grace, moving to a stand. "I'm going to set her in the other room; you all please indulge yourselves, don't wait up for me," he said with a chuckle, already making his move towards the door. Not used to that offer, Priam turned to Charlie and Vaggie, who were already removing the cloches, their faces showing nothing but delight as they began to taste their food, humming as if they received the best massage in the world.

      Not one to be left out, or rather, not one to stand out negatively and be perceived wrongly, Priam followed suit, lips quirked as they picked up a fork, moving it onto the plate. They took a generous bite, their eyes widening with realization. This food tasted heavenly! Which, the irony was not lost on Priam with that, but goodness! "His Highness is a great chef," Priam commented from behind the back of their hand, swallowing their food after. Charlie showed her fangs with a simple upturn of her lips, nodding in agreement. Vaggie frowned a tad, pointing her fork in Priam's direction.

     "His Highness? Didn't he say to cut that stuff?" She questioned with a flat tone.

     "Vaggie!" Charlie hissed. Her girlfriend shrugged without much care, eyes locked in on Priam's embarrassed frame. "It's not instantaneous to change how you usually refer to someone! With some, it takes time. I'm sure Priam will get there," she continued, sounding more like a mother than a young woman with fantasy-influenced tendencies.

     "I'm sorry," they murmured, clearing their throat to hopefully dissipate the perceived tension. "I am trying. He told me he hates that stuff, and uh, it's just different... with how--my family--" They tried to explain, but soon shut their mouth at the looks of sympathy. It was uncomfortable how they seemed to know more than what they were told, and Priam couldn't help but wonder if this wasn't the first time this has happened. "Anyways--"

     "Hey! How's everything tasting?" Lucifer asked as he hurried back, promptly shutting the door behind himself. It closed with the hint of force, making everyone pause as they stared after the Devil. "Sorry, sorry, just didn't want to let anything distasteful in," he seethed, clearly having experienced something, or someone, who didn't suit his tastes. Priam offered a kind appearance, pointing to the food with their fork.

     "It's amazing, Lucifer," they said, eyes flicking briefly to Vaggie's, "is cooking one of your hobbies? This tastes phenomenal!" They praised and prodded Lucifer to answers, to which the man kept tight-lipped about the details, but indulged by answering with a few things, both Charlie and Vaggie chiming in with their own comments. According to the couple, Lucifer enjoyed cooking quite a bit, and Charlie recounts a few times her father made her special meals for her birthdays in her younger years. Lucifer seemed to radiate fondness and pride as she spoke, touched by how she remembered a good thing from their shared past.

     Dinner went on like that for some time, plates emptying at a leisurely pace while conversation kept alive, fanned by each contributing their own experiences with cooking or baking. It seemed that both Vaggie and Priam shared a passion for cakes and pastries, while Charlie admitted that she was awful at any sort of kitchen work--except peeling and cutting, she was exceptionally proud that she was always helpful at prepping, but when it came to actually cooking, or baking, she was at a loss. "I still can't boil pasta without it turning into sludge," she bemoaned, comfort immediately following by Vaggie's tender touch to her arm. Priam finished off her meal with a fond expression, setting her fork aside to wipe her mouth with the provided napkin.

     "Allow me," a voice murmured from nowhere, but as a hand reached out, Priam startled, turning to face the person who was standing behind them.

     "Oh, hey there Wesson! You haven't met Priam, have you?" Charlie spoke to the looming, impish person who was smiling charmingly down at Priam, his body curving in to drape himself into the lamb's space. He picked up the plate silently, the polycorias standing out in his eyes as he scanned Priam's appearance, his thick brows raising, and the thin growth of facial hair stretching around a toothy smile. Priam recognized him immediately as the impish creature that was journaling in the lobby.

     "Unfortunately, I haven't. What an oversight, I apologize for that. Can't believe I let a darlin' thang like you slip my radar." He raised a hand to his chest, his country drawl like a spread of honey across sugared toast.  It thickened as his voice dropped, clearly a level of appreciation in his demeanor. "Name's Wesson, sugar. Priam, is that right? I'll commit it to memory." His purrs were accompanied by a low rumbling, one almost too minute to detect, but Priam's ears wiggled at the noise, pinning it to be coming from Lucifer or Charlie. "You finished with your plates as well, Princess? Vaggie? Your Highness?" He was polite as he could be, addressing each one with respect and consideration. Priam looked over to the others, seeing how Lucifer was frowning towards the other man, while Charlie and Vaggie welcomed the assistance from Wesson.

     "It's nice to meet you," Priam spoke out, their words causing a flourishing grin to form on Wesson's face. His gaze fluttered towards Priam again as his swiped up the other plates and clutter, expertise oozing from his fluid movements. Charlie was amused, while Vaggie showed nothing more than her usual passive demeanor.

     "Pleasure's mine to be held, sugar, I assure ya. If y'all fancy some dessert, I'm pretty sure there's leftover cake from the re-openin' celebration," he informed, scooting his way towards the wall facing Lucifer's back, where a door to most likely the kitchen was located. Charlie denied the cake with a promise for next time, to which Wesson took the rejection with professionalism, promising to join everyone after he completes his chores.

     "That's Wesson. He's a sinner who made a deal to become Hell-Born. It's a long story, but he is trying to earn some honest money as kitchen aide here for the hotel. I'm hoping we can talk him into a redemption loophole," Charlie gushed, either ignoring or not noticing how her father huffed beside her. It seemed there was some sort of beef there, or at least, Lucifer didn't see Wesson the same way Charlie did.

     The Princess then began to tease Priam, stating that Wesson wasn't the flirtatious type, and the tension in the air was thick. "Aha, it's just my first day here, I don't think I'm trying to make any impression on anyone like that," the lamb-humanoid laughed, holding their hands up in a surrendering motion. Lucifer nodded along, insisting that Priam had to settle in and focus on their comfort before any suitors even should try. The vouching touched Priam's heart, and made them wonder how they got so lucky that the Devil their parents had promised their soul to was as kind as him.

     What was that buzzing?

     Priam had noticed it a few times during the dinner, but now it actually was loud enough to not pass as a trick of the ear, or just a common sound that the hotel provided. At times it had wavered and changed frequencies, but now they realized that the sound was traveling, and now it was close enough to be consistent and pestering. Just as they were about to look up to the direction of the sound, someone was at the back of their chair again. "Everything okay, Priam? We're heading into the lounge, if you'd like come with?" Lucifer's bright eyes came into view, his hands hovering on the sides of the chair, a silent offer to assist if needed. Again, the realization of how lucky they were to have a kind overlord hit Priam, making them perk up like a flower being watered.

     They stood with the offered help, and even took the arm Lucifer lifted out of reflex. They followed Charlie and Vaggie out of the room, chattering about how usually after the dinner service, most of the hotel guests would gather in the lounge for entertainment, save for a few who did not care for the television, or so Charlie claims. Priam thought it was interesting on how the sinners were sometimes so particular, that they didn't follow whatever advancements the world had made, but understood that creature comforts were very hard to part with. Not to mention Priam's affinity for times before they were even born. "Oh, Alastor... didn't expect you to be joining us," Vaggie commented, causing Lucifer to stop in his tracks immediately. Priam followed her master's example completely, their gait on pause as their eyes shot up to gaze at who was being spoken to.

Chapter Text

     Seven long days.

     It has been seven long days since that night, and eternity doesn't even begin to describe the slow paced way that Hell conducts time. Twenty four hours felt more often than not like seventy two, and the days were mostly filled with adjusting to life in Hell at the Hazbin Hotel. Priam got to meet the whole crew at this point, and was able to have a few things added to their possession, like three outfits and a few creature comforts, but Charlie had claimed a day out shopping was to be established at some point to really give the lamb-like person an actual wardrobe.

     Priam stood in front of their mirror for several moments, eyes locked in on the maroon blouse they had haphazardly thrown on. The cut of the material was sinfully accurate to their body shape, and not as modest as they expected, considering the garment was from Charlie herself. It accentuated the frame of their shoulders with a sharp cut, and cinched in places that flattered every slope and curve they grew into. The front wasn't necessarily anything worth gasping over, with a high collar that wrapped possessively around their throat, and beautiful patterning that was just noticeable when the light hit it. No, it was the back that had Priam flustered, turning and looking over their shoulder for the millionth time. The way their shoulder blades carved out exposure, and the long descent of their back drew attention to the naked skin drew forth goosebumps in an instant. Thankfully, this top wasn't going to get to shine in all of its glory, for even though they were in Hell, the sinner had no intentions of showing off their entire back, especially after some odd comments about their scent.

     Which reminded them of Alastor once again, unable to escape little reminders of the man cloaked in red.

     "I assure you, Vaggie, dear, that I will not be joining you all this evening; however, it would be most unbecoming of me to neglect meeting our newest guest! What kind of hotelier would I be otherwise?" His voice was perky, layered with a vintage radio filter, not dissimilar to a host back in the heydays of the earlier 1900s. Priam observed him as Vaggie continued the conversation, seeing how he was a rather intimidating height, with legs that carried most of that burden, and ears that stood out to cap off his tall disposition. His suit was a smart match, it being bright but professional, lined with stripes and cut to give him some shape, although the tears at the bottom gave pause to the perfect image.

     Looking further up proved an interesting visage, with the hauntingly pale skin with clear yellow undertones, a broad, stained amber smile to match, and coordinating eyes that held so much fire in them, that they were burning red, framed by a monocle and blood-shot eyelids. His hair wasn't exactly what one pictures for his aesthetic, but it seemed to be a personal touch for individualism, especially the stripe of black that spoke out from the cherry hues. Nestled between those fluffy ears looked to be a small set of antlers, though non threatening. They actually seemed quite cute, being as small and almost unnoticeable despite attached to a person that would be considered a walking red flag of self importance. Priam objectively decided they had no idea how to feel about them one way or another--except caution. This was Hell, they had to remind themself, and in Hell, even if there were some good people, majority were not so wholesome.

     Lucifer had a pinched grip of their arms locked securely, tugging the other a tad bit closer to himself while he sized up their newest addition, while Charlie tried to do what she thought she did best; diffusing the situation. "Hey, Vaggie! He's right, he has been so busy that he hasn't had the chance to welcome in Priam! Let's step aside and let him so he can get back to it," she soothed, grasping a hand of her girlfriend with a tender tug. Her father remained firm, his sour expression easing slightly at a scoff from Charlie.

     The man in crimson stepped forward, and suddenly Priam raised a hand, moving to clutch at Lucifer's arm as that familiar fear of being around an unknown person began to creep in. Before they even had a chance to touch the smooth material of one of Lucifer's shirt sleeves, their hand was scooped into the fingertips of Alastor, who held their hand as one would with a heirloom dining set--with the utmost care and consideration. For a split moment, with their knuckles facing up, hand limp, Priam thought the Cheshire man was going to plant a kiss upon their appendage, and instantly curled their toes in discomfort. However, he merely peered at the other for a few moments of silence, despite Lucifer vibrating with annoyance beside them. "I am Alastor; quite the pleasure to be meeting you, Priam... quite the pleasure. So you're the precious lamb that has found their way into the arms of our dear Hazbin Hotel, hmm?" His eyes narrowed, an unasked question in his gaze, but it was one that Priam could not fathom.

     "Yes... it seemed like right place, right time," Priam answered nervously, receiving a mindful squeeze from his fingertips, before he released their hand, to which they immediately attached it to Lucifer's bicep. "It's nice to meet you too," they said for what felt like the umpteenth time today. Alastor straightened his back to his full height, chuckling to himself, amused by something no one seemed to be getting.

     Lucifer seemed to be losing patience the longer the other stood in the way, so he cleared his throat, eyes ablaze as he met eyes with Alastor. "Yes, very nice and all, but we have a scheduled thing going on, and you know how Charlie is about routines," he seethed through a grin, malicious in his energy towards the other, who couldn't look less entertained if he tried, despite the ever present upturn of his lips.

     "Indeed, the Princess does try to keep a timely schedule." His eyes roll towards Priam, teeth disappearing behind a closed-mouth smile. It was a few more uninterrupted seconds before he raised his hand to his lips, fist pressing to his lips as he cleared his throat. "Enjoy your first night of entertainment, my dear. I look forward to having more conversation with you in the near future. There's something about you I find to tell quite the story, I'd love to hear about you more another time," he said, all suave and charm coming from a smooth tone, to which Lucifer blanched and turned his head away with an offensive eye roll.

     "Sure! Whenever you're not busy with work as Charlie says," Priam answered, seeing how his eyelids raised to show off more of those ruby jewels trapped in his iris.

     "Wonderful! I shall make time accordingly. Good night to all," he said with a pointed look towards the Princess, who nervously laughed and wished the same. Alastor began taking his steps to pass Priam, his hair caressing the sides of his face, his gait one of a confident gentleman. Before he had the slightly opportunity to brush against Priam's shoulder, Lucifer guided the lamb forward, commenting loudly about a show on the television he wanted to catch them up on. The lamb turned their head to watch the retreating back of the deer-influenced man, noticing that his body shook in what they assumed to be intolerance of Lucifer.

     Lucifer seemed to have a lot of trouble with any man who has proper manners.

     A simple huff brought Priam back to their current predicament. Since they had no idea what Charlie would have planned for the day, they decided to settle for a high-waisted pair of slacks, one that stretched to give them comfort when seated, but also hugging in some places to secure some sort of coverage for what the shirt did not to their back. They had limited options for shoes as well, so a simple pair of sneakers were doable, and thankfully, their feet hadn't turned into hooves, so they had a bit more freedom when it came to styles, which they hoped they'd have the chance to get more clothing soon. Perhaps they'd ask Charlie.

     With a final nod of approval, Priam turned and exited their room, taking decent strides towards the elevator. It wasn't quite the time for everyone to be up and moving about, but Priam wanted a head start to the day, and to thank everyone for being so kind with a breakfast. Or at least an attempt... Priam was still working on that part, not particularly confident in the gesture being received well. During the week, they mostly ate food graced by Lucifer's talented hand, only the occasional thing coming from Vaggie when the Devil had to leave for some sort of meeting, or errand. Those days have Priam adjusting the worst to the hotel, simply due to Charlie and Vaggie being much more busy, and with Hell having a longer time slot than Earth for each day, Priam was left to their own devices.

     Angel Dust was okay to talk to occasionally, but he worked a lot, and when he wasn't, he was often at the bar with Husk... and there was something about those two that left Priam felt like they were intruding most of the time, and so they had to turn elsewhere. Cherry Bomb wasn't a permanent resident of the hotel, either, for she had commitment issues concerning staying out of some sort of trouble. Apparently, she made a promise with Angel about a resident who had passed, and so she was trying. Due to her flighty nature, however, she wasn't here as often as Priam may have liked to try and get to know her. Nifty wasn't a smart choice, either. She always had this... unhinged energy about her, and although her version of entertainment has been harmless thus far, she often mentioned Priam's scent in a way that made the other uncomfortable.

     That left... Wesson.

     "Well hey there, Sugar. Early start again, eh? You lookin' to keep a hard workin' fool company?" Speak of the sinner, and he shall appear Priam thought, turning from their path towards the lounge. There the imp stood, his hair styled so the shaved piece was hidden, clothing much more influenced by the southern traditional ranch life than they had been for the past few days, although he always wore a pair of cowhand boots.

     "Morning, Wesson. Is there anything I can help you with this time?" They asked with a teasing smile, stepping closer to him. The hellfire-toned man shook his head with a deep rumble of laughter, intent on refusing Priam's offer for the umpteenth time. "I was thinking of baking something for everyone. How'd you like to help me with that? Unless you're busy with chores, that is," Priam quickly interrupted, not ready to hear any dismissal or rejection to help so early in the morning. He gave a sigh through his crooked nose, lips curling as his eyes softened, blooming like a flower under nourishing sunlight.

     "They can wait, Sugar. I'd be more than blessed to be able to join you," he murmured, those double sets of irises flicking this way and that, capturing every single detail of Priam's figure. He offered his hand towards the other, who lifted a teasing brow, but slid their palm into his with no problem. "Right this way."

Chapter Text

     Priam has inferred more info as to why Lucifer disliked Wesson, and it was rather simple; he was a sinner. According to Charlie, her father had a hard time opening himself up to receiving the thought that some sinners were worth redemption, and Wesson's crimes weren't divulged too deeply, making the Devil much more suspicious of him than most of the residents. It was kept to the front of Priam's mind whenever they interacted with Wesson, but otherwise, he reminded the lamb of one of those classic, gentleman cowboy types who chased after his dreams, his heart tender to those he saw as a gentler nature--which involved Priam a bit more than they at first realized.

     Wesson was sure to guide Priam anywhere with his hand hovering over their back, never touching, but simply giving a barrier between them and whatever may try to sneak up upon them. His stride would slow down to match the other's, his tone always quiet and kind when he spoke to the lamb. Priam has caught the spade-tipped tail swaying towards their body more times than they could recall, as if it was trying to find the twin companion Priam would have, if they were of imp nature as well; however, the appendage was more than content to sway and flick close by, a tell tale into Wesson's emotions that was rather helpful for Priam.

     They both worked well together, Priam found, despite Wesson always protesting that a "sweet doll like yourself shouldn't be doin' all this work. You're gunna getch'er hands all rough". Being one who was very out of place in this hotel, Priam had taken to aiding anyone who required it, without much fuss and an eagerness to fulfill a role. It was boring living at a standstill, having nothing in particular to do except reflect and try to rub away the sin. Sometimes Charlie would have an activity, but it hadn't been within the last few days due to Lucifer's suddenly busy schedule, not that it bothered any of the other residents, they seemed to like breaks from Charlie's suffocating wrangling she tended to do. "Sugar," Wesson began, breaking Priam out of their train of thought. They turned their head from their task to peer at him, only to receive a poke to the end of their nose, the imp laughing in good nature. A wiggle of their nose proved there to be flour, and the lamb snorted along with bewilderment.

     "Wesson, what was that for," they asked, raising a hand to clear away the powder.

     "Couldn't help myself. You were so lost in your mind, I was beginnin' to feel a bit lonely again," he crooned, wiping his hands on the spare cloths they had laying around. A flush of embarrassment flooded the other's face, their hands continuing to feverishly mix the icing that they decided would pair lovely with the pastries. Wesson had been a huge help, and although he didn't seem like the type, he was a fast and caring student for learning how to bake. He ended up creating beautiful, flakey danishes, and mouth watering cinnamon rolls under Priam's ever attentive guidance.

     The kitchen had a cozy warmth from the oven's heat, blanketing the two in a sweet, sugary atmosphere not dissimilar to a candy land of sorts. Their shared time baking had been taking gentle nudges towards Priam's apprehension and concerns about their circumstances, shrouding their thoughts in the possibility that everything could work out, and that Wesson made a wonderful counterpart to spend time with. It was just a grove into the mountain cliffside, but the lamb was fond of the idea that perhaps they can shape and instill a routine like this for the rest of their time in the hotel....

     Only for them to start again in Heaven.

     "Mornin', Mr. Alastor," Wesson commented just as Priam's eyes caught the sight of the color of fire, of passion, of blushing cheeks and rouged lips. The demon in various shades moved through the kitchen, though oddly enough, his signature over coat he wore was no where in sight, and his sleeves were rolled to his elbow, showing off the black, soot-like gradient that started somewhere between his elbow and wrists, looking as if he had plunged his arms hand-first into an ink trench.

     "Hello again, Alastor," Priam says, pausing in their hard work to offer a welcoming expression, almost caught off guard to see one reflected back at them. Alastor's usually sharp grin was more tame this morning, posture more relaxed. He must be finished with the work that had kept his mostly out of sight for the week.

     "Priam and Wesson--what a surprise, truly. Tell me, little lamb, what do you have our helper doing? It smells absolutely decadent in here," he said in a smooth hum, the click of his polished shoes a break from the silence of Priam's earlier contemplating.

     "Oh, I just thought--well," Priam flubbed, gesturing lamely towards the pastries that were resting atop the over to cool. "Everyone has been so welcoming--I wanted to thank them, all of you, for being so kind and patient with me. I know I'm rather new here, so adjusting has been... a challenge, I just appreciate everyone understanding that," they said, meeting Wesson's tender expression with a glance of shyness. A thoughtful noise left Alastor's mouth as he stepped closer still, pausing just before the table that separated himself from the lamb.

     "It is our duty to ensure every guest here is met with the respect, honor, and care that the Princess desires. It is good to hear that everyone is complying, although... I must admit, I'm an outlier in that equation, aren't I?" He pressed his hands against the tabletop, leaning a tad bit into Priam's space. They raised their head a notch, meeting his gaze head on, their fingers wrapping around the bowl full of icing to hide their anxiousness at his invasion of their bubble. Alastor inhaled deeply then, catching Priam off guard. The icing was rather sweet smelling, but Alastor never tipped the other off as someone who enjoyed sweets.

     "No," Priam protested, shaking their head, turning away to step over to the oven, moving to grasp one of the danishes, something they considered to be more towards his tastes. "Not at all, I actually thought you were really kind, even though I haven't seen--" Their voice halted as they turned back, catching Alastor's intense stare. He had... surely not been looking at their bare back? It was probably shock, for the radio-toned gentleman was from a time where most people didn't show so much skin. Those familiar flames of irises rose up to look at Priam's eyes, an intensity there behind the polite mask, one that the lamb being wasn't sure exactly what it was, how he felt. Maybe he was disgusted at how modern they were, or just really confused at the choice of clothing for baking. Either way, Priam set the danish on a plate, their steps shy as they walked back to where they were before, smiling as their hand touched the mixing whisk, raising a single brow. "Even though I haven't seen you much. Do you have a lot of business today as well?" They raised the whisk, letting the streams of icing drizzle a few lines over the danish, watching at how the glaze melted slowly over the pastry, a tantalizing morsel for sure.

     Wesson stayed silent, observing how Alastor swallowed, sucking some air between those fanged teeth--he wasn't as naive as Priam, and could see how the cannibal was admiring not the sweet treat, but the flesh of the lamb who had nothing but pure intentions. Although, Wesson highly doubted that Alastor would go through with anything like his nature, not while Priam was under the protection of the hotel and the Mange family. His eyes narrowed sharply, his mind tracking the exchange between the two as Priam offered the hand made sweet, their smile doing things to his heart and stomach. "Not hardly, darling. Except I have full intentions of having you join me for a stroll to show you the surrounding territory, if that is acceptable for you," Alastor said with a charming expression, his own hands covering Priam's tenderly, his fingers leaving a ghost of a touch while he slipped the plate from their grasp, surprising Wesson that he didn't decline the food; it wasn't something he would remotely enjoy, was it? He has had to take out the garbage before, and not once has Alastor's been anything but rotted, putrid leftovers of flesh and organs that he found not to his tastes or appetite. Yet, here he was, clawed hands grasping an edge of the pastry, his lips parting when he lifted it--and he bit into the warm treat.

     Priam's face was full of a mixture between giddiness and anticipation, obviously wanting to hear the review he had to give. They had asked the imp several times what their thoughts were on the treats through almost every step, pausing many times to have him try a bite, and it was always a delightful tickle to his brain. They took pride in their baking, and really wanted to make others feel good with their passion. "Your skills are as intriguing as the rest of you, Priam," Alastor said, producing a handkerchief from his pocket, sliding it across his lips while Priam tilted their head, an air of confusion between the two forming. "It is impeccable. It tastes just like I'd imagine your personality would; tastefully saccharine," he murmured, making sure to pat the corner of his lips to wipe any saliva that may have escaped his mouth.

     "Priam has a gift for baking," Wesson agreed, to which that had Priam flushing, but otherwise not arguing with the compliments. Their cute lamb ears wiggled, softening Wesson's protective posture almost immediately. "They clearly put much care into each and every project."

     "Hmmm," Alastor hummed in agreement, though his eyes were glaring in the imp's direction, as if offended that he reminded the two of his presence.

     "I'd love to take a walk with you, Alastor. I haven't seen outside the hotel yet, well, except through the windows, and I'm curious! .... but, is it safe?" Perfectly unaware of the person who was going to accompany them, Wesson cringed at the question, and at the fact they agreed to be alone with Alastor. Maybe he could tell Charlie before they go....

     "My little lamb, your safety is my top priority. I assure you that no one will try to disrupt our journey if I have anything to say about it. Now, I must excuse myself; I have a lovely snack to finish." Priam giggled to themself as Alastor gave a bow, creating a rather swift exit. The imp glared after the deer's back, catching a glimpse of how the other man's tail was wiggling in satisfaction.

     "Tch. That Radio Demon," he hissed under his breath, mood soured now that he realized Alastor was going to make himself an obnoxious part of his life, butting in at any moment to swipe away Priam, making him on edge as to the true plans the other demon may have for the lamb; he doesn't show intrigue to just anyone after all.

     Priam waved their hand in front of Wesson's face just then, their lips forming a pout to tempting to not draw the imp's attention in. He blinked several times, hearing the other speak, but more importantly, watching the way their lips had formed each word, each shape taking a stab at the man's weak heart, pulse raising with the flush that no doubt coated the tips of his pointed ears. They were just too precious for words, a gift of reprieve from the monotony and brutish behaviors Wesson had experienced in life. He was mighty jealous of Lucifer, who could see the manifestation of souls. He wondered what it looked like, what color it shone, and how bright it would blind his eyes. confused as he was on how Priam ended up in Hell, he was thanking the Heavens selfishly for not taking them away upon their death.

     "Wesson! You aren't listening again," Priam scolded, their face scrunched in the prettiest grimace he'd never thought was possible.

     "Sorry, Sugar. Got lost for a second there. How can I earn your forgiveness?"

Chapter Text

     Enclosed in the safety of his radio tower, away from the ever prying eyes of not only his enemies, but everyone who had ever heard of him, Alastor was in the middle of a rather emotional episode. His body had almost made it to his hosting chair, but fell short, collapsing on the floor with a choked snarl of deep, pitted confusion, his mouth a cascade of saliva that he had kept back ever since he had entered the kitchen at the base of the hotel. The plated pastry thankfully fell into the cushion of the seat, undisturbed as the deer worked through his turmoil for the third time this week.

     Their smell was just so intense, as if they still carried life and fresh flowing blood. It was a nectar, sweet enough to leave him wanting more, but not enough to keep him satisfied for long. A temptation, with doe shaped eyes and a disposition too polite and dainty, slipping through the hotel with always added care to never try and disturb others, even though the nervousness is bleeding from how their eyes always roamed their environment. Although Alastor has been busy with his broadcasts, among other leads for his plans, his shadow had been very attentive in the hotel, always keeping watch for the deer even when he is off the property. One of the favored persons to watch was without a doubt, their newest darling creature. Alastor has learned a lot about their routine, and who they accompany themself with.

     That damnable Lucifer and speck of an imp Wesson were the worst ones, always simmering after Priam like mother hens, a barrier that the Radio Demon would have to manipulate just so to break through and get to the little lamb.

     Scrambling for his handkerchief, Alastor swiped at the strings of drool that drizzled towards the floor, every shaky inhale clearing his sinuses of their scent--a loss and a win by his standards. He had to collect himself, to center his focus and regain his sense of gentlemanliness. Flesh that fresh can be ignored, it just takes a bit more will power, and perhaps... a visit to Cannibal Town. He could engorge himself until his appetite is tempered, maybe visit Rosie to gain some insight on ways to overcome his unhinged urges that hit him far too sharply whenever he spent time in Priam's close proximity.

     After the battle with Adam, Alastor was reminded that he couldn't let himself be distracted; that he cannot never let a single being get in his way of his plans. He had been weak then, still is, in some ways. As he caught his breath, mouth now clear of any lines of spittle, he grasped at the air in front of his throat; yet a manifestation of his chain did not appear. Still weak . The hand then fell to his side, where his injury was still healing-- so slowly , too slow for his liking. His powers were stunted, and he could not spend a single second getting his mind fogged by the tantalizing morsel within the hotel. He had duties to uphold; run the hotel to Charlie's expectations, and to further his own influence in Hell. The more power he holds, whether it is his own or others', the closer he becomes to his goal.

     Damn Charlie. The Princess had practically begged him that very first night of Priam's appearance to ensure they felt safe and welcomed. Had it not been for his feast just mere hours before on that day, he might have tried to take a bite when he had their hand in his grasp. "Come on, old chap. That creature does not deserve this. Remember your manners. Remember the expectations," he reasoned with himself, coming down from the manic range of emotions he had been fighting just moments ago. He was rational, he was logical. No amount of vulnerable emotions that overcame him will win. "The Princess gave you your task, now you must abide. Priam is a sinner, just like the others who walk among Hell," he murmured, though he knew that wasn't quite true. "They are innocent to the vast amounts of sin that people commit here. You must protect them. The Princess wills this."

     Protect them, save them for himself. They are his meal to enjoy.

     "No," he sternly told himself, the ever present and familiar side of him fighting for the guts and gore to fly. That beast he lived alongside with, it lacked logic. It was primely focused on satisfying his carnal needs; tearing into flesh and consuming those worthy of being in his stomach, hunting down the disgusting, entitled wretch that deserved to be put in their place. It was a part of him that he didn't dislike, he's had it since he was alive, after all. It just got out of hand at times. "There we go," he sighed when he felt the tense muscles relax, his shoulders dropping, head lulling to the side. He sat there on his knees as he contemplated his options, wading through the minor haze that lingered in the corners of his mind, something he assumed was not dissimilar to Angel Dust's reaction of being high, albeit a much, much lesser scale compared to the drug-using spider. Brain fog, he recalled, having heard Charlie explaining it to Wesson once offhandedly.

     Moving to his feet, Alastor tugged at the ends of his vest, then smoothed a hand down the front, eying the danish that had been patient this entire time for his return. His lips quirked upwards, a more intense grin now displayed as he reclaimed his dapper mask. "An appetizer," he decided, picking the plate back up while he swooped into the chair, inhaling deeply to continue his grounding methods.

     Inside the hotel, Wesson had helped Priam package the pastries for the residents, and was now assisting them in washing the dishes, although he insisted on being the person who actually scrubbed every plate and bowl, while he had the lamb use a hand towel to dry each item. They stood rather close to one another, fulfilling one of Wesson's dreams as they fit quite the domestic picture. "Hey, Wes?" They inquired, not at all causing the imp to have a private inner moment of screaming at the nickname.

     "Uh, yeah, Sugar?" He asked after swallowing his fluster, focusing more on the dishes than Priam's body so he didn't completely short-circuit.

     "Thank you for helping me with all this. I know I took you away from your chores and all, but I am glad I got to spend some time with you; you're cool, you know that?" Priam beamed at the profile of Wesson, whose thankfully red skin prevented him from showing off his flaming blush. They didn't stare at him for too long, instead returning to the task of drying once more. "Everyone else here is great, too, but... you've especially been one to go out of your way to be kind to me, to make sure I'm comfortable, even though this is Hell, and from how Vaggie goes on, it seems like a majority of people.... aren't so nice down here." The lamb's voice was losing confidence, insecurity at how long they've been talking starting to take over. They peeked at Wesson again, who was now giving them a look of disbelief.

     "Sugar, while Hell is absolutely full of some of the most deranged and depraved sinners, I can assure you that you can always count on me. Always. It don't matter when or where, acid rain 'er shine. I've found myself rather fond of your spirit 'round here, too, and I'd..." he trailed off, sudsy hands just resting on the sink's frame. "I'd like to keep you as happy as you can be here," he finished, his tone full of fluff and unsaid vows of affection.

     "Such a gentleman," they hummed, side-stepping once to do something they never usually did, but wanted to. Their shoulder bumped Wesson's in an affectionate gesture, glad to have found friendship in the reliable imp. Their skin didn't prickle, their stomach didn't churn, and they didn't feel gross at the touch. That's how they knew, in that moment, that Wesson was someone that could wriggle his way through their touch-adversed ways, to find a role within their life that didn't bother them. "Let me help you with some chores since I took up so much of your time."

     "Like Hell, Sugar. You can watch, though."

Chapter Text

     Lucifer sighed, shuffling through his paperwork in an effort to clear his tabletop, listening idly to the chit-chat Charlie was participating in with Mammond and Satan, the meeting with the Seven Deadly Sins concluded for that morning. It seemed things were still running smoothly in the Rings, despite the chaos that the battle with Adam caused here in Pride. Lucifer almost suspected that the Sins were giving him space to collect himself and his territory, they all acted a bit more like family than they did business associates.

     "Hey, Luci," Asmodeus murmured from his side, the giant rooster-influenced Sin knelt to his level, all feathers and glowing features consuming the Devil's vision. He raised his eyes, looking at the blue maw to give him the full attention he deserved. Out of all the Sins, Asmodeus had always been the gentler one, only ever bringing out his bad boy side when others ruffled his feathers, so to speak. "It's good to see you out and about again, man. Is everything going well, truly?" The two skeletal heads kept in his mane chattered their jaws at him, mimicking the concern the rooster was no doubt feeling, ever the worry wart. Lucifer smiled, a gentle one, raising a gloved hand to pat the front of the other's blazer.

     "Don't you worry about me, Ozzie," he began, eyes flicking briefly to check on his daughter. "We have everything under control here."

     "You know that's not what I meant," Ozzie replied, his expression showing a pointed look, chastising the other for avoiding the truth of the matter.

     Lucifer sheepishly shrugged, not ready to face the vulnerability with the Sins of his deep depression. "I'm doing better. I've got Charlie back, and the hotel to keep me busy, not to mention Priam--" his lips sealed suddenly, brows furrowed as he realized he was about to dive into their latest person of interest at the hotel.

     "Go on..." Ozzie teased, his grin way too saccharine for Lucifer's liking.

     "Charlie, baby! Hey girl, tell me, is that little bit I sent your way helping out enough? I figured he'd be a cute little addition to your staff; you'll need all the help you can get with the sinners!" Bee's voice pitched with gleeful enthusiasm, her wings fluttered excitingly behind her, while the lava-lamp-like texture on her hair and stomach swayed through different colors, startling Mammon and Charlie. Satan merely glanced in the direction of the younger Sin, always a tad bit less patient for the bright colored fox.

     "Oh, hey aunt Bee, and yes! Wesson had been amazing; not only does he get the work done that needs to, but he's really warming up one of our residents to our intentions! He's a total sweetheart," Charlie gushed, earning the interest of the two other Sins.

     "A new resident? Look at ya, already gaining new people for ya little project, that's awesome! Have you ever thought of merchandizing it for a profit?" Mammon's canines shown as he leaned into Charlie's space, the sound of a classic register cashing out ringing in her ears. "I bet I could get some connections goin' for ya to advertise for this hotel of yours... then we can make PLUSHIES! Everyone loves cats, we can model them after KeeKee!" He cackled.

     Before Charlie could politely deny her uncle-figure, Satan nudged the Greed demon. "Mammon, it is time to get the fuck out of here; Belphegor and Leviathan are already getting their panties in a twist downstairs, and I already owe them a fuckin' brunch down in your dumbass Ring." His classic temper beginning to show through, he growled at Mammon impatiently.

     "Ya, ya--ya old cunt. Charlie, you've got my newest card, right? Call me with the details, we'll continue this when we don't have the buzzkills. Bee, babe, you joining in?" He straightened, speaking to the fox demon, who had taken to buzzing around them in disinterest.

     "Nah, Ozzie and I are planning on heading down to his Ring so I can get some supplies for my next rager. Next time though! Hey, Ozz!" Bee zipped away giggling, leaving Charlie to wish the two Sins well on their trip with many promises of a call and a visit when applicable.

     After a few hours stolen away during a father-daughter impromptu lunch, the royals of Hell began their return towards their new home, missing the hotel more than they'd like to admit, along with the patrons that lived within its walls. Charlie especially missed having the time to gather everyone for one of her self-proclaimed genius activities.

     "Ugh, those meetings are always exhausting. I know I talk a lot, but Mammon and Leviathan dominate that skill on their own," Charlie groaned to her father as they headed back to the hotel, Lucifer flying idly beside his daughter. She had brought Razzle to ride back on, the enormous lamb-dragon hybrid more than happy to be of service since Charlie did not have a set of her own wings to rely on.

     "They do enjoy to hear themselves talk, but we got done what we came to do, and now the hotel has the approval and protection of the Sins, even though some of them don't believe in your project, they still adore you to pieces--as they should," he chuckled, eyes scanning over his territory, picking out the sinners that he once looked upon with nothing but disgust and disappointment, but now, he saw a side to them that his daughter helped him open his eyes to--potential. "How is the duckling settling in? I haven't seen them in a few days," he nonchalantly asked, hiding his feelings behind his stern expression as he was reminded of the discussion he had moments ago with Ozzie.

     "Priam's doing great. Wesson has taken them around the hotel, showing them the ins and outs. I asked Alastor to get them comfortable once he's wrapped up with Overlord duties. The others haven't quite grown as comfortable of Priam as we have, but I can understand that. They're not like the others; they aren't completely corrupted by the sins they've committed in life. I am curious about why they're here, it doesn't make sense. Have any of the souls you've collected been like Priam? They seem..." Charlie trailed off, not exactly sure how to articulate her confused thoughts on the matter. The King of Hell's lips curled in displeasure at the two his daughter put in charge of the lamb, finding those sinners to be the least trust worthy, but Charlie had a lot of faith in them, so Lucifer will abide by her decision... until they show their true colors.

     Her father remained silent for many, many moments, his face cracking into one of mournful reflection. "Very few, but not quite...," he started, "not in the way Priam is. I've had many sacrificial summonings, but if I took the payment, the second they got exposed to Hell, they let their inhibitions go--committed sin freely because there weren't any consequences--or ones they considered. As far as they were concerned, they were already in Hell, might as well experience it to the fullest." His tone carried a heavy burden, one that spoke to his anguish and punishment of having to constantly see the worst in people. Charlie gave a sympathetic expression, her hands tightening in the Razzle's locks of fur, determination filling her core as she lifted her gaze forward.

     "I see... So, do you believe that their parent's brainwashing is what's stopping them? The trauma of growing up in a close-knit cult can be.. difficult." She surmised.

     "It's possible. I'm not sure about everything they've been through; I didn't investigate their soul throughly. I can, if you'd like," he offered, though his eyebrows pinched at the task, knowing due to experience that using his power to view the contents of one's soul felt incredibly violating, like someone was receiving an open operation while they were numb, but very much awake.

     "No," she said with a shake of her head. "We can come up with a plan for their case. We just have to be patient and let Priam open up to us on their own time. We can manage the corruption more that way, especially if we keep them within the territory of the hotel. A healing environment and a safe space to speak of one's personal demons is really what will help." Lucifer looked over his daughter as she spoke, his heart melting at just how much she has grown, and how she continues to remind him of himself when he was young. She had so much passion for helping others, almost to a fault, but that was his daughter, his pride and joy. She could overcome anything, and she had the motivation to due so.

Chapter Text

     "Alastor, where are we going again?" Priam asked with a tentative smile, standing at the ready by the doors to the hotel. Alastor met their gaze, observing that they hadn't changed their clothing since earlier in the day. Their back was still exposed, their scent just as strong with how much flesh was able to breathe freely. Thankfully, Alastor had his fill over brunch with Rosie, so while their smell was divine enough to make the man in red shudder with a desire to latch onto Priam and inhale every bit of their nectar, he was not hungry for them in the least. Alastor then reached up to his coat, beginning to unbutton each notch as he replied.

     "Just around the square; nothing too far. I'm simply wanting to get you familiar with your new home while getting to know you a little better. The residents in this hotel can be rather rowdy, it's hard to have a conversation between intellectuals that way." He shrugged his coat off in one fluid motion, never breaking eye contact. "The Princess has confided in me that you're quite the sharp mind."

     "Oh, I'd like to think so. I've studied a lot of random things when I had spare time; my family always insisted," Priam answered, blinking momentarily from shock when Alastor's arms swept over their head, coat following suit. He settled his hands atop of the suit jacket that now covered Priam's shoulders, smoothing out the material idly, making sure it was proper and conserved their scent with his own. "Alastor?" They inquired, guarded but ever so curious as their hands touched the lapels of his coat, their eyebrows furrowing at the gesture.

     "Ensure you don't take that off, my little lamb. Wear it like an armor, and no harm shall come to you." He said, one pointed claw tapping the end of their nose in a playful way, earning a snort from the other.

     "I'll hold you to that, Al," they said warmly, a tone that caught the Radio Demon off guard for a split second. It was teasing, but holding a hint of affection similar to how Rosie would speak to him. It had a sense of nostalgia, from even before Rosie, to where his memories were somewhat fuzzy and things were simpler. "See you later, KeeKee," Priam called out, breaking him of his momentary distraction to see the cat sitting by the front desk, the cyclops eye half-lidded in dismissal. Still, the creature was waiting, as if to make sure the two got out safely. The lamb gave an assured smile, waving at the cat to say goodbye.

     As they both exited the hotel with no issue, Alastor found himself offering his arm to Priam, who took it without much thought, their other hand already coming up to rest on his bicep, an all too familiar hold they have done with Lucifer a few times now. Their steps were taken leisurely, the lamb's gaze taking in the outside world the same way a child would--wide eyes and parted lips, especially when it came to the sky, where the burning pentagram and the blinding portal to Heaven's domain served as light instead of a sun.

     "Dreadfully hard on the eyes, sweetheart, but sure not to stare," he instructed the other, who listened without saying a word, instead peering at the building not too far off from the sidewalk they were taking. "Now, Priam, dear, tell me all about yourself, and don't spare a single detail," he said with a gossiping tone, ignoring the world outside of their bubble. No sinners would approach them if they have any sense of awareness, so he had no need to be so guarded. Priam, on the other hand, was scanning every open space around them, their face shifting in reaction to the few gnarly looking people that stumbled around at a distance.

     "Well... honestly I'm pretty boring in comparison to most of the hotel residents. I grew up in a rather privileged home. My whole family had a hand in raising me. I was expected to fulfill all the duties put on me since I could walk... hmm. I spent most of my time learning, as I've said before; from the teachings of Lucifer, to how to patch up a torn cloth with hand sewing, the list seemed to never end--I even picked up some interpretative dance since I couldn't be apart of the extra circulars at school," they said, glazing generally over their life on Earth as to not bore the other. "I tried to always be busy with something. My family gave me a lot that many couldn't have... I didn't want to take advantage of it without making them proud." Which reminded Priam of their predicament. Their family would have had to deal with the body back on Earth... they wondered if their family even missed them, or was this all just a huge convenience?

     "Quite the honorable one, aren't you? It is good to see that even in the modern times children are still loyal to their parents who provide for them; though I am left with more questions," he mused, tapping his chin with his index knuckle. Priam seemed to have a typical life of anyone born into wealth, but it is rare that the privilege worshiped the teachings of Lucifer--not unheard of, but rare. He thought back on the families he had interacted with in his life before all the way till now, trying to connect the missing information himself.

     "What kind of questions?" Priam asked, turning their head away to stare after two demons, one being a succubus dressed in a dominatrix outfit, the other some sinner, naked except for the pair of briefs he wore, and a collar/muzzle rig, crawling behind the succubus unabashed. They were heading to  the building with a sign out front stating obedience classes. Priam's nose wrinkled, cheeks blushing, averting their stare immediately to their feet. Alastor understood their thought process, and sympathized with a pat on their hand.

     "Well, I am not about to pry into a fair creature's private information. It just seems a bit... out of place for you to be here, my little lamb. The practice of Luciferism isn't so much a crime for Hell's tastes, although Heaven might be one of the pickiest cult of people I have ever encountered, so it would not surprise me in the least for that to be the bare minimum." The static in his voice crackled and wavered mentioning Lucifer's teachings and Heaven, giving Priam no doubt that Alastor had his reservations on both subjects.

     "Everyone says that--that I don't fit in here. I'm not going to sugar coat any of my life; I have committed some sin. According to religion, we're all tainted from the moment we gain consciousness on Earth. It's just a matter of if you continue to taint yourself, or fall in line of living a life in practice of purity. My family... we haven't always been good, but we tried. Effort doesn't count though, does it?" Priam smiled at the sidewalk with a heavy sadness. "I supposed it doesn't matter, anyway. What is done, is done. If I can be redeemed, then that is what I will work towards. I've got to keep my end of the deal any way I can," they said.

     "Deal?" Alastor asked, eyes darting to their throat, his stomach clenching for some reason, even though he cannot see the collar unless manifested by the deal holder.

     Wait.

     Luciferism. A deal. Redemption, and the fact that Charlie had hinted that her father had found Priam, a freshly deceased soul. A coincidence? Poppycock.

     "Hm? Oh, are we not supposed to talk about those?" Priam asked, now nervous that they had done something wrong. Charlie and Lucifer had never mentioned not talking about the deal--just their name, and to follow their guide in order to stay protected.

     "Sweetheart, I must caution you," Alastor said suddenly, the radio filter minute compared to how it usually ran, indicating his seriousness. "Hell is Hell, there are monsters of all kinds littering the streets. Deals are made to get power and souls, and while they cannot be stacked or broken by others not associated with the contract, it is advised to not let it be known you're on a leash. You must guard yourself, more so than you did in your previous life, and only trust those who have your best interests at heart." Alastor didn't know why he was mentoring this lamb, but it felt right. They were fragile, in a way, completely uprooted from their comforts and security. They had the disposition of a gentler nature, and his heart was soft for those in that position, even when they smelt like a blissful full course meal.

     "Oh.... I see. Okay, thank you for letting me know, Alastor. This place... it's a lot, but--" they slowed to a pause, their gaze finding an electronic shop across the street, a few TVs of various sizes flipping through TeleVox channels, mostly his boasting programs, but occasionally show commercials for Valentino's porn films, or Velvette's fashion and potion products. Alastor's grin twitched, but otherwise, he just patted Priam's hand once more.

     "Intrigued, sweetness?" He inquired.

     "I just... I don't know, I didn't expect technology to be this readily available to the masses... though everyone at the hotel has a Hell Phone, so it shouldn't surprise me. Are those on the tv sinners? Do they provide the tech? The three seem to be the most featured," they spoke, following Alastor's lead as they crossed the street, the deer indulging the other despite his hatred for modern advancements in electronics.

     "Those three are known as the Vees; Vox, the one who does the broadcasting. Valentino, a top pimp in the porn industry. Velvette is the influencer, though she has dabbled in witchcraft enough to produce different potions; though her specialty is aphrodisiacs." Priam's lips wobbled, brows furrowing, display discomfort as they stared at the screen and took in the information. "They're Overlords here in Hell, just as I am, although their tactics and self righteousness is... deplorable." He glared at the images across the screen, knowing that his distortion abilities would obscure him from Vox if he were to peak in his direction.

     "Overlords? Vaggie told me a little about that; you all own souls and have your own special ability set, right?" They questioned, gazing up at him.

     "That is correct, though I hope you don't think too harshly of me, my little lamb. To survive here in Hell, measures must be taken. Now, let's get away from this disgusting display, it is unbecoming for your eyes to perceive." He turned them away from the displays, figuring that he could take them by a few more shops before heading back, just to let them indulge in some of the life outside of the hotel.

     "I supposed in Hell not everyone is trying to be redeemed, so it makes sense that there is a struggle for power and control. It's a political thing. Also... thanks, for noticing my discomfort about that... material. It's not my thing," they said with a nervous huff of laughter, shy in how they avoided his intrigued gaze. Usually, the ones he kept in his company--save for Angel and Nifty, they didn't divulge in their opinions on sexual natures. Alastor was pleasantly surprised just then, realizing that they shared something not-so-common, in common.

     How about that....

Chapter Text

     "Oh my, what a flattering frock. I cannot let us leave this establishment until I gift this for you," Alastor said, clapping in glee after convincing Priam to try on a stylish jumpsuit with a flowing skirt attached at the hips, like a dropped down cape of sorts, especially since it flowed like waves every time the lamb took a step, and it covered enough that their scent didn't waft much. The Radio Demon had skillfully treated Priam to a small shopping spree of sorts after learning that the poor thing was without much selection for clothing. Since money was of no issue to Alastor, he decided that chipping into his vast wealth for someone in need was hardly a problem. He reached out his hand, palm up, giving the other a reassuring smile as they slipped their hand warily into his--gasping almost immediately when he twirled them in close, admiring how the skirt sashayed with every little movement.

     Priam's other hand came up to brace themself on Alastor's chest, their head tilting back to avoid bumping their forehead into his face. "Oh, sorry, I'm sorry," they panicked, removing their hand from his shirt as soon as they processed the touch. Alastor waved away their worry, not as bothered as he would be by a motion like that. "--aaand you can't buy me another outfit, Alastor, this is the fourth one! I can't accept it."

     "Now, now, sweetheart, you are deserving of nice, suitable clothing for yourself, and right now, you do not have the funds to supply for yourself; allow me to aid you in this. How about we exchange; if you're so inclined to deny me for purchasing you clothing, I request that we simply have tea time together, does three days a week seem agreeable?" He tilted his head, sliding his hands into Priam's palms, interlocking their fingers to raise their hands up, letting them pause just at one another's shoulders. His lids fell halfway over his eyes, giving a smolder to Priam's blank stare. "Hmm?"

     "That's... reasonable. Not a deal... right?" They murmured.

     "Haha! So clever. It's good to keep your guard up like that, but no, it is merely an agreement. I give you my word as a gentleman." He felt their loosened fingers squeezed his back, just for a moment, but then he took pity on the fellow touch-adversed being and released their hands, satisfied in his win. "Go on, dear lamb, change back and we can see what else we can find. I have my eye on a very beautiful coat, one moment--" he nudged Priam back towards the changing rooms before stepping away, hunting down another piece of clothing that he was certain would take no effort into convincing Priam to let it join their ever growing pile.

     After a successful shopping trip, and a few more agreements later, Alastor was grinning like a cat who got the canary, carrying the bags from their shopping spree. Priam had their arm looped with one of his, their spare holding the smallest bag, a win for them against the demon who insisted that they shouldn't be burdened with the heavy lifting. Despite them seeming like they didn't get along that well, Alastor and Wesson displayed a lot of similar manners. Perhaps they were raised relatively the same? Then again, they definitely had different aesthetics, so perhaps only in manners. "Thank you again, Alastor, I feel so spoiled," they said with a flustered titter, high from the enjoyable outing they had with the Radio Demon.

     "Think nothing of it, darling. It warms my heart to see someone appreciate all types of styles, you certainly have a variety to work with now!" Priam nodded to Alastor's encouragement, nudging him with a feeble push of their elbow to his side, although it still felt weird to occasionally touch the other aside from the escorting motion, he was clearly more touch-adversed than Priam themself.

     "As do you. I expect to see some of those new shirts during our tea time," they boasted, smug in their own right for taking another win in their agreements; if Alastor wouldn't drop buying Priam a pair of nice dancing shoes, then he must match a few pieces of clothing with the lamb, to make it feel even. He wasn't opposed to that, for what are a few new shirts, anyway? A drop in the bucket in his mind.

     The hotel was in sight now, and Priam perked up when they noticed Wesson out front, working on the garden Vaggie spoke about starting over dinner one evening. He was bent over some dark rogue roses with teeth, though what exactly he was doing was a mystery in their distance. "Oh, it's Wesson!"

     "Hmm. So it is. I see you two have gotten rather close," Alastor stated, the narrowing of his eyes almost instinctual when he caught sight of the imp.

     "Can you keep a secret, Al?" When he nodded in confirmation, Priam leaned closer to him, dropping their octave to nearly a whisper. "I can't stand doing nothing at the hotel, so I've been helping him with chores and things in between Charlie's activities and meals. He's helped me a lot with learning the hotel's layout and keeping me busy. Close proximity has allowed us to become friends. Don't tell Charlie, though, she'd hate knowing that I have been doing work as a guest," they said, straightening back once they reached the opened gates to the hotel.

     "Your secret is safe with me, doll," he promised, "I, too, can understand how idle hands can be taxing on one's mind. To stay busy is to be productive, though I do encourage you to do it as safely as possible." When he said that, Priam scoffs in good nature, muttering that the imp would never allow them to do anything strenuous anyways. Their steps became audible as they approached the entrance to the hotel, Wesson pausing in his ministrations to check over his shoulder. Alastor found himself thinking the imp pathetic for how he melted at the sight of the lamb, his tail giving away his joy as how it whipped from side to side.

     "Priam! There you are, Sugar!" He dusted his hands upon his thighs, causing the deer's eye to twitch. Priam greeted him back, observing Wesson as he went to stand, grasping a bundled paper along the way. The imp stepped over, his eyes cutting towards Alastor before scanning over Priam's body. His posture became ridged when he noticed the shopping bags, the puzzle pieces actively connecting behind his eyes, giving Alastor sadistic glee to know that his heart must be breaking. "Welcome back. While I was workin', I saw these, and they made me think of ya, so..." he stuttered, insecure about his poorly wrapped flowers compared to the names labeled on the packages the Radio Demon held. Not to mention... was Priam wearing Alastor's jacket over their shoulders? What was that about?!

     "Oh, those are cute!" The lamb released their hold on Alastor's arm, tucking the loops of the bag they held around their wrist before reaching out, taking the various deep shades of flowers, taking care not to crush them in the paper that held them together. It was a tad messy, not at all about aesthetics, but each flower had a pretty feature that over all spoke about the personalized care that went into forming the bouquet. "That's so kind of you, Wes. Thanks so much!" They beamed in the imp's direction, who had took off his Panama styled hat, nervously fiddling with the brim as he gave a smile back.

     "No problem, Sugar. Do you need any help carrying in some things?" He stared at the bags in Alastor's grasp, his tail now looping itself, a sign of his jealousy. The Radio Demon rolled his eyes at the young imp's barely concealed emotions, deciding to provoke them a bit more.

     "I must encourage you to keep to your tasks, young man. Your hands are still soiled from the work you've done, and I won't have my gifts for Priam become tarnished so easily." The jab made Wesson flinch, feeling humiliated at the prospect that he was some peasant compared to the Overlord, unworthy to even assist the sinner in his company. Not to mention the pit it formed in his gut at hearing it was indeed the Radio Demon who had purchased all of those fancy things for the lamb. At least she seemed just as happy with the flowers, but Wesson's pride surely took a hit.

     Sensing the building tension, but not sure why it was there to begin with, Priam decided to intervene. "That's what washing is for, Alastor--but Wesson, don't let me interrupt you, the garden is going to be phenomenal with your attention to it. Thank you again for the flowers, I'll find a vase to put them in as soon as I have a hand free." The imp nodded, helpless to their charm that soothed the ache he felt.

     He watched the two as they went to the doors of the hotel, Alastor maneuvering the bags in order to open the door for Priam, giving a polite bow as the lamb stepped to enter, their voice chirping out in gratitude to the gesture. Just before following them in, Alastor turned to meet Wesson's eye, oozing smug authority in the way his own eyes crinkled at the corners. "Maybe next time, boy ," he spoke to the other, not giving the imp time to react before he closed the door behind him, the silence in the lawn of the hotel loud. Wesson snarled with venom at the place where the Radio Demon had stood.

     Damn that self righteous prick!

Chapter Text

     It was just mere hours after Priam had settled into their room, having separated from Alastor not long after he aided in carrying the purchases to their door. They both parted on promises of future tea times and trying to earnestly enjoy whatever the princess would come up with for the next activity. The lamb would have invited Alastor in for a few moments, if they had any form of seating and entertainment beyond the bench that rested on the floor in front of their bed. "I really need to see about getting a job and purchasing some furniture," Priam sighed, slipping into a pair of pajamas that Charlie had purchased for Priam from their first night. They had been careful about their laundry, to ensure that neither will their clothes get lost, or ruined. Nifty had offered many times to aid the lamb, but, well... Priam had yet to take her up on that.

     Although it was not yet even dinner time, Priam felt themself rather wiped out from their shopping spree, and instead did every task they need to in their room before they would get into bed; gathering the new clothes into their hamper, brush their teeth, floss, and a few other things they just did out of pure habit from when they were alive. It wasn't until they had started walking to their bed did a knock at their door give them pause, their ears wiggling in an attempt to figure out who was behind the door. "Yes?" They called out, turning on their heel to advance towards the door, figuring it might have been Vaggie or Charlie checking in on them.

     "Priam, h-hey!" Lucifer's nervous greeting made the lamb rush to the door a little faster than before, a very eager expression on their face.

     "Lucifer! It feels like forever since I've seen you last--come in!" The lamb practically bleated in joy, their cotton tail wiggling with their ears to express just how glad they were to see the short King of Hell again. Lucifer was dressed down a bit for once, sporting a cream-toned button up with bell shaped sleeves, and a set of high-waisted black slacks. No vest or coat in sight--not even the top hat or staff he was so fond of. His boots were traded out for simple house slippers, the most out of place thing about him at the moment, but Priam didn't mind it either way. They stepped aside from their door, allowing the Devil to glide past them, his eyes scanning the room as Priam closed the door behind him.

     "Oh! You haven't had KeeKee customize your room yet?" He said this offhandedly as he snapped his fingers, a two-seater sofa manifesting in the open space by the windows, angled so the ones sitting could peer to their left out the window to look at the side yard of the hotel.

     "KeeKee can do that?" Priam asked, astonished, their steps following Lucifer's lead to the sofa, where they promptly joined the dark lord after he patted the space beside him--all friendly smiles and kind eyes.

     "Of course! You can summon her with your hotel key anytime, and she can do her best to shift the room to something you're more comfortable with. You saw my room, she did all that. Or if you'd like... I could do it as well." He dusted off his pants as he spoke, shy now that he had all of Priam's undivided attention. The lamb nodded along, not pointing out his sheepish behavior.

"Oh, don't trouble yourself! I haven't even really given much thought to how I'd like my room yet, so no rush," they insisted, seeing his face fall slightly at the rejection. "O-or! Or, hey, there's actually one thing I thought about..." he perked up almost immediately, and it reminded Priam of a puppy more than the root of all evil. "Um. I had one of these as a kid... it was, uh, this projector, and whenever I went to bed, my parents would turn it on, and it'd put the stars on my ceiling. I'd very much like something similar--i f it can be done."

 "Haha! That's hardly even a task! Watch this." Lucifer held his hands together, squeezing for a few moments as his eyes began to glow red; a familiar sight from Priam's first memory of the King. They gazed on, lips parting in a soft o-shape as Lucifer's hands parted, a swirling ball of gold and white specks forming before their eyes, growing steadily in the space between his palms. In one sharp moment, he slapped his hands together once more, then tossed them into the space above them. The orb from before now resembled glitter, shooting off like fireworks. As it hit the ceiling, each speck burst, showering the room in shades of various colors, though quickly everything faded after the grandiosity of it all. Priam's eyes adjusted, and they couldn't help the gasp that left their lips as they admired their new ceiling--it looked as if they were actually seeing the night sky!

The blonde demon's heart melted at the child-like awe on the sweet lamb's face. They seemed to smitten with everything new shown to them, and Lucifer was all too happy to comply, for what a reward it was to just witness someone enjoying his creations the same way Charlie once did. "Do you like it?" He asked with a hushed tone, eyes flickering over their face as they blinked, head whipping to the side stare at him, their cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling with a passion he was unprepared for.

 "Like it? Lucifer, you're unbelievable! This is incredible! There's actual shooting stars! I can see all of the constellations, too! I love it!" They turned their head to continue observing the ceiling, all while Lucifer watched the lamb, his face shifting into one of fond care. Priam reminded Lucifer so much of a young Charlie, and it made his heart full, and hurt, all at the same time. It also had him reflecting on his conversation with Asmodeus earlier that day.

     "Luci, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but I haven't seen you quite this encouraged since.... well, it's been awhile," the Sin of Lust comments, not even daring to bring up Lilith's name at the risk of upsetting the other. Lucifer's shoulders fell as he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with a trembling hand.

     "I'm not sure what to classify this as, but I've been... taking someone under my protection. A sinner, fresh to Hell. They're so.... so helpless. I couldn't just leave them in their situation, but at the same time, I feel like I'm responsible for them to not get into any other situations that could hurt them. It's only been a week, and yet... I don't want to see them... you know." He explained, having a hard time articulating his emotions, but trying his best for the other Sin.

     "Oh? Do they perhaps, remind you of a time when things were.... simpler?" Ozzie's eyes flicked towards Charlie's direction, and Lucifer felt his spine stiffen, caught off guard by the question. He paused as he thought about his, eyes drifting towards the floor in shame. He shook his head in agreement after a few moments. "Okay, hey, it's nothing to be ashamed of. Empty-nest syndrome can happen to anyone. Maybe this little one is helping you nourish something lost during that period of time for you. As long as it doesn't consume all of your time and attention, and they aren't looking to use it to their advantage, who's to say you shouldn't indulge in an adoption of sorts?" Ozzie tilted his head, watching how Lucifer shifted his weight from side to side. "Luci?"

     "They're under contract with me. They were... meant for me. Sacrificially, I mean, and I made the deal's circumstances based on the hotel," he comments, seeing the understanding form on the Sin's face.

     "Oh, Luci..." Ozzie began, sympathy already bleeding from his tone. "They're one of the redemption residents, aren't they? You don't want to get too close and risk the pain of losing them, but you don't want to be selfish and take away their chances either, is that right?" Lucifer's brows furrowed, lips forming a thin line as his fears were spoken aloud. Asmodeus hummed, offering a careful pat on the other's back in comfort. "It is your choice, Luci. Remember that you always have a choice. I think, no matter what happens, them being in your life isn't a bad thing. It's up to you how involved they get."

     "Yeah," Lucifer said solemnly, head turning as he watched his grown daughter speak with Beelzebub, admitting to himself that while Charlie and himself were working on fixing their relationship... there would always be that gap that they couldn't rewrite. Now, his daughter was doing her own thing, has been for years now. She needed him in some ways, but not at all how she did when she was naive of the world and looked to him for guidance.... guidance he was unable to provide.

     "Thanks, Ozzie, for offering an ear."

     "Lucifer," Priam said, bringing Lucifer back to the current time, his blink not dissimilar to a reptile's. "Was there something you came for?" They asked, turning to face him fully, their hands folding politely in their lap while their eyes scanned his face. He felt warmth in his chest bloom, noticing how they were excited to be around him--how quickly they welcomed him in their room, even though they were clearly dressed for an early night's sleep. Although they had been raised with the belief of serving him, Lucifer felt that they just genuinely wanted his company in the moment, and that did things to his emotions that he hadn't felt in quite some time.

     "Just... wanted to check in on you, kiddo. It's been a few days--can you tell me what you've been up to?" He smiled at the way Priam lit up, their legs tucking under them on the cushion as they adjusted to be more comfortable, hands flying up to accompany their recount of their time spent apart from him... and he listened. Full of attention, emoting along at the appropriate places, with the appropriate reaction. It was effortless to talk with the lamb, no presumptions to take in about each other to ruin the image of their bonding time. Priam didn't know Lucifer as the absent father, and Lucifer didn't know Priam as the emotionally neglected child. In the moment, they were just two people having a blast while they caught up on one another's timelines.

     "Oh wow," Priam said with awe, "so the other Sins can just... leave their territory to come up here for a meeting? You didn't bind them to their Ring?" Lucifer laughed politely at the question, shaking his head feverishly.

     "No, no. They're like family, I can't do that... unless I'm really cross with one of them," they both giggled at that, Priam's hand lightly batting at his shoulder. "The meeting is a bit necessary, though, but we only hold one every year; anytime I need to contact one of the other Sins instead of them all, I'll just use a Hell Phone. The meetings are strictly business, but we do try to catch up with separately when we can," he says as he brings out said device, showing Priam the contacts he had listed in the group of "Family". The lamb hummed happily at the images, enchanted by the vast differences of the appearances each Sin held.

     "Oh, that remind me. Do you think Charlie would hate it if I got a job?"

Chapter Text

Lucifer's heart leapt in his chest, staring blankly at Priam's anxious expression, his mind already throwing itself into emotional turmoil. "Haha... why would you need a job, duckling?" He cringed at the nerves that bled from his tone, and how it made Priam curl in on themself, their hands fidgeting at the same time that their eyes broke away from Lucifer's.

     "I... I feel bad, for everyone always providing for me. I mean, Charlie and Alastor had gotten me clothes, there's the food I've been eating, not to mention the--" Priam began to explain, only to be cut off by Lucifer's stuttering.

     "Wait-wait-wait. Charlie, I get, but what is Alastor doing giving you clothes?" Lucifer asked with venom and suspicion, his eyes narrowed and searching their room until they found the door to the closet.

     "He was just doing me a favor! He said that it was 'improper' for me to be without a selection of clothes. He didn't want anything out of it, except an occasional hang out session. Was... was it bad that I accepted?" Their tone was hushed, not challenging the King of Hell. Lucifer shook his head, taking a deep breath to collect himself. He had to admit to himself, that the whole back and forth between Alastor and himself over Charlie's 'father figure' position left him in a very insecure point. He felt that he had to share Charlie, but now, Priam too? They haven't even bonded that much yet, and here that damnable Radio Demon was, moving in to take over Lucifer's role.

     "No, duckling, you did fine," he said with a smile, sighing to exhale any of those negative feelings for the sake of the being in front of him, wanting to do good by them. "I just... don't trust Alastor, but that doesn't mean you can't. So... you want a job so you can provide for yourself, and not have to rely on us for financial security, is that right?" Priam nodded, making Lucifer take another deep inhale, folding his hands into a prayer position, resting the sides of his fingers against his lips, taking a few moments to think of a solution that would make them both happy.

     Priam wasn't ready for going into Hell by themself; that much was blindingly clear. They gave most people the benefit of the doubt, too many sinners would try and take advantage of that. Lucifer couldn't be with them twenty-four seven, and his protection was only so much with their contract, they could still physically be hurt. What if they got kidnapped? The King of Hell breathed out heavily, feeling a hesitant touch to his shoulder. His eyes glanced to the side, seeing Priam's worrisome look. "Hey, I don't want to upset you, Lucifer. If it pleases you, I can just stay here." There it was, that proper training they had drilled into their heads, it made Lucifer sick.

     "No, Priam. I don't want you to live your second life by my happiness. I just have a lot of concern sending you out there by yourself. Look, how about we run this idea by Charlie, see what she thinks. Maybe we can even give you a sort of job here, so you don't have to worry about any of the... out there," he spoke, venom in his voice at mentioning the outside of the hotel. Priam understood that it was dangerous, their walk with Alastor proved that. All of the Sinners and Hellborn that roamed the Pride Ring were a different type of troublesome. Even those who stood at a distance and leered at the two while they strolled screamed not very good outcomes had Alastor not been their attendant. Maybe... maybe Priam had been too rash in wanting a job so soon in their stay at the hotel.

     They just wanted to feel useful.

     "Okay, Lucifer, that's fair. I'm open to whatever you all think is best. I just really want to be able to get my own things, like a Hell Phone, and maybe--" Lucifer gasped, as if just realizing something. He muttered to himself about how stupid he was as he dug into his pockets, brows furrowed and tongue peeking out of the corner of his lips, a picture perfect example of the word 'fixated'. Priam waited patiently, a bit amused as he patted himself down, not finding what he was looking for. It was rather cute, how he tended to act much, much younger than he was portrayed to be. "What are you looking for?" They asked, meeting his wide-eyed stare.

     "Oh, Charlie and I decided on our way home earlier to grab you one. We figured it'd be best for you to reach out to us when needed since we've become so busy lately--" Priam began waving their hands in protest, shaking their head venomously, being sure to repeat several 'no's along the way. Lucifer promptly ignored the other, still puzzled that he could find the phone. Go figure, he wanted to be the one to gift it to the lamb, only for him to misplace the damn thing.

     "Lucifer, I can't--I can't! You have to return it, there's no way I can accept it. A phone is ridiculously expensive!" Priam whined, earning a simple pat atop of their head as Lucifer finally figured out that he could just summon the device, snapping his fingers to do just that. The stylish cell fell from thin air into his palm, all red hues and sleek design, a prompt awaiting for the user to begin the set up. He then bestowed it into Priam's hands, pinching their cheek playfully as they continued to try and deny the gift.

     "Common, duckling, you know we won't take it back, just enjoy it. Here, I'll even help you set it up!" He slid in close to Priam's side, leaning in and directing the lamb with his pointer finger. "You'll just want to swipe from the middle, downwards, and that will open it--however, after you do the basic set up, you'll need to set up a password using the pentagram symbol when it pops up. There's several apps that come with the device already--though honestly I doubt you'll need most of them," he explained, attentively studying Priam as they began to fill out the proper details, their fingers hesitating with each input. They paused a few times now and again, double checking with Lucifer if it was truly okay for them to have this phone, and every time he waved them off, insisting that they finished the set up so he could program his and Charlie's numbers inside.

     It was a simple process, the Hell Phone was thankfully similar to the modern ones they had in the living realm. In a matter of seconds, Priam had successfully set everything in place, except for, of course, the little photos for a contact. "Hey, Lucifer?" They asked, moving to open the camera app. The King of Hell hummed, intrigued by what the other was doing. "Is it okay if I get a picture of you? For the contact?"

     "U-uh, yeah! Sure, no problemo! Do I look okay? Not too casual?" He fluttered his hands over his clothing and smoothed back his hair, ever the fidgety type when nervous. Priam assured him that he was presentable, and then did something that even surprised themself.

     They leaned back into Lucifer's space, giggling at his floundering noises of surprise, both lying back into the armrest of the couch now. Priam's head was tucked under Lucifer's chin, his hands resting on each of their shoulders to make sure they were steady. Their arms lifted, camera displaying the two clearly. "Smile, Lucifer!" They said, their own lips already upturned, thumb hovering over the confirmation button for a snap-shot. Lucifer stuttered, but grinned at the request. The camera clicked, a confirmation noise that it had successfully captured the image ringing out. Priam lowered their arms, humming to themself as they began to check over the picture, and even edit it a tad.

     Lucifer blinked, his fingers feeling the soft material of their pajamas, his eyes shining at the warmth they gave off. Their scent was strong in his nose now, a comfort in its own right now that he was used to it. His gaze peered to see what he could of their expression, his own face melting at their childish glee while they added duck stickers to the boarder of the image. They were so gentle, so young in the ways of this damnable land. His cheek leaned unconsciously atop of their head, a dopey smile on his face while he watched the other. It was peaceful, with only the occasional whisper of wind as one of the tiny shooting stars crossed their ceiling disrupting the quiet. Lucifer rubbed his thumbs on the top of their shoulder caps, hearing them hum in appreciation.

     I think, no matter what happens, them being in your life isn't a bad thing.

Chapter Text

     "Oh! You two are already here!" Charlie's voice filled the dining hall as she entered, Vaggie close behind her. They were both dressed professionally, a bit more so than usual, with folders and clipboards in each of their hands. "Good, we can get both of your opinions then!" She sat at her usual spot by her father, and her girlfriend followed suit, muttering a few things under her breath as she set her items down, clearly not a morning person. It looked to be another busy day for the hotel owners. Priam set down their utensils, a bit self conscious to eat when not everyone was--though, Lucifer clearly didn't feel the same, if his continued munching on a croissant was any indication.

     "Dad, I was thinking we could run through some territories today, to ya know, hand out flyers for the hotel. Vaggie and I stayed up all night working on these, and I think this will really draw some sinners in!" She proudly shows one off to Lucifer and Priam. They both took in the loaded page of images, though thankfully, aside from the bright colors and various images representing redemption, there was at least text that was legible. Priam clapped politely with a grin, while Lucifer chuckled.

     "It looks great, Char-Char! No doubt it will catch some eyes," he said encouragingly, kindly taking a flyer and squinting at it. Priam agreed aloud, interested at the prospect of meeting other sinnners. "Ah huh... yeaaap... I've got one talented daughter right here!"

     The buzzing sound started up, ears flicking as Priam took in the noise. It was distinct, tickling the edges of their brain and manifesting an image, one of umbra moons and fire. It tingled their skin, creating waves of goosebumps that rolled from head to toe, a sense of guard forming, but also, a mellow tug, unmistakeable to two magnets trying to reunite after being separated by significant distance. Priam had the urge, the need to chase after that feeling, all at the same time as curling away from it, all convincing in their own right. "Alastor...?" They questioned quietly to themself, curious and confused, brows furrowed and eyes focused on their plate before them. Why they thought of his name, they weren't entirely sure, but the buzzing was almost like his radio static...

     "You rang, little lamb?" Everyone at the table jumped at the distorted voice that chimed from behind Priam's chair, clearly caught off guard by the demon's sudden appearance. One single hand reached from behind the chair, placing a palm on the surface of the table to cage Priam in from their right, very similar to how Wesson did on their first morning in the dining hall. The sheep turned their head, meeting the stare of the Radio Demon.

     "Oh, Alastor, glad to have you join us!" Charlie said.

     "Ahaha, yeah... uh, this guy," Lucifer hissed, Vaggie grumbling something in agreement while she crossed her arms.

     "Good morning Alastor," Priam spoke, all pliant and secure at the same time, like they were playing a part while meaning every bit of it. Alastor's eyes creased, a clue on when his smile was genuine or not. "I'm sorry, I didn't intentionally call you like that." Alastor went ahead and dropped into the chair beside Priam, tucking a chin in his palm as he continued to stare.

     "A wonderful outcome to a minor mistake, then, for now I can get caught up to speed on our dear Charlie's plan. Oh, did you make these this morning?" He asked, gesturing with his free hand towards the half eaten croissant.

     Lucifer cleared his throat, all narrowed eyes and displeased frowns. "Actually, I did," he said pointedly. Alastor immediately took his hand away from the pastry, matching Lucifer's disdainful look with one of his own, though his smile made it look more condescending.

     "Probably shouldn't indulge then," the host supplied.

     "What's that supposed to mean?" The King of Hell asked defensively.

     "Oh-hoookay! Dad, Alastor, let's focus on the hotel stuff, yeah? Vaggie, why don't you tell them!" She encouraged, a hand already patting the other on her thigh. Vaggie huffed to herself, but began to recount their discussion, this time, delving into the details Charlie left out in her excitement. Priam found their interest waning, more intrigued in the people around them, rather than the information they have basically already heard. They turned their head to their left, seeing Lucifer listening attentively to the speaker, a proud and patient look in his face, eyes swapping between Charlie and Vaggie. Charlie had a similar appearance, but she was completely zoned in on her girlfriend, a typical reaction from someone in love.

     Priam startled again when they checked their right, finding Alastor to be watching them with his head barely turned in their direction. His body language screamed casual, but was steered more into hearing the subject, so Priam didn't understand why his side ways look was honed in on themself. They offered a small, timid upturn of their lips, shrugging their shoulders as their eyes flickered from the other three chatting at the table, back to the Radio Demon. A warble of static was heard accompanying his chuckle, and the faintest sound of an audience laugh track broke out, Priam surprised blinks searching for where that noise could've come from. "What do you think, Alastor?" Charlie asked, clearly seeking the approval of the distracted demon.

     His eyes zoned in on Charlie, throwing his hands up as he excitingly claimed that it sounded like a grand old time. "Though it's not as showy as I expected, a flyer hand-out would be an annoyingly persistent way to advertise the hotel; it would cause quite some chaotic entertainment!" He laughed more jovial this time, not particularly acknowledging the way Charlie's shoulders slumped at the mention of being pesky. Priam, however, stared down at their pastry, the inner workings of their mind causing them to form an idea, one that would soften the blow to Charlie's self consciousness.

     "How about...." their voice had the others silenced, intrigued and wanting, but patient for the lamb to say their piece. "I mean, this is just a thought, but um... why don't we do, like, a mock bake sale? Or maybe even hand out some food stuffs for free with the flyers? Food has a tendency to calm hostility rates and overall negative chemicals released in the brain. Humans, or sinners, still function on the same spectrum as they did when alive--ergo, food equals dopamine and serotonin hits. If we related our food to the hotel, then people with associate the hotel with something good. It... it may not be full proof, and not everyone may even consider taking anything, but it's an appeal that a lot of sinners wouldn't be able to resist--like Husk and the bar!" Priam became more enthused as they spoke, ears and tail wiggling as they gestured with their hands; though while avoiding eye contact with anyone to soothe the rejection in case it was perceived as stupid.

     "Wonderful!" Alastor comments, all volume and favorable. He scooped up one of Priam's hands into his own, holding their appendage closer to him than themself. "You, my little lamb, are quite right! I know I can't turn down a good meal myself! It is the mind of a sinner who knows their kind best, is it not? Though I admit to being rather adversed to those kinds having the pleasure of trying your immaculate baking skills." His head tilted to the side, keeping eye contact firmly with the other sinner. It was almost like he was guiding the whole discussion at the table without needing to be the most spoken, a true reflection on the talent of the host who specialized in manipulation.

     Recognizing one of Alastor's attempts at flattery, Priam decided to one up the Radio Demon by playing his game. It was a sudden, impulsive idea, but the lamb turned their hand that was within Alastor's, locking their fingers around on of his, squeezing his palm tenderly while swaying the appendages back and forth, a flashback to their shopping trip coming to mind. The growling started up again from Priam's side, but they paid it no mind. "Oh, Alastor, no need to be put-out. It's for the good of the hotel, and for Charlie. I'm sure she loves the idea." They both swiveled their heads to face the others at the table, looking for input.

     All three other members in the dining hall were stunned, their mouths mimicking a gaping fish, the whites of their eyes bulging, pupils zeroed in on the playful hand motions going on between the two. "Uh.... what the fuck," Vaggie said aloud.

     "If he doesn't get his diabolical hands away from--" Lucifer began, only to be interrupted by a frantic Charlie.

     "WOW, okay, I'm so glad you two seem to be getting along, and YES! That's a genius idea, Priam! Gosh, I wish I would've asked for ideas like this a long time ago! Though most sinners wouldn't have thought of something so... innocent," she yammered, posture still clearly uncomfortable as her eyes stayed locked on the way Alastor's thumb began to stroke the pad of meat that formed Priam's thenar. The Princess chortled with uncomfortable anxiety, not fully sure how to process someone who could be so... affectionate with Alastor in such a short span of time, much less as naturally as they seem by the connection. Vaggie sharpened her stare at Alastor, wondering if he had something to do with Priam's boldness despite being someone who tended to stray from touches.

     The lamb bleated happily, but Lucifer appeared beside himself with disgust and suspicion, arms crossed and brows set while he observed the Radio Demon, how his attention was hardly straying from the lamb. He held his decorum fairly well in front of everyone, but Lucifer couldn't shake the feeling that under the charming mask, he was ravenously biding his time for something involving the precious new sinner.

Chapter Text

     "Have a great day!" Priam said, full of joy and encouragement after handing out yet another packaged pastry with a flyer, their bubbly personality a huge draw with many of the sinners that were on their way between pentagram sections. Alastor stood guard beside them, ensuring that no danger approached the lamb. Charlie, Vaggie, and Lucifer had went further into the other territory, insisting that Priam stayed back due to the dangers of the place up ahead. Not one for arguing, and rather content to be put to work, Priam set to doing the task given, surprisingly not receiving nearly as many bad reactions as they had been expecting, but that was most likely due to Alastor. "Charlie is going to be so thrilled! Thanks again for helping, Alastor. I know this type of thing isn't the most engaging, but I enjoy the company!" They beamed at the maroon dressed demon, a small break in the passerby's allowing conversation to unfold.

     "Oh, don't sell yourself so short, my little lamb! My business is always rather taxing, so it is nice to have something similar to a sabbatical. You however, seem to be rather good at drawing a crowd. We've already gone through half of your tantalizing morsels!" He comments, bowing his head to peer into the hefty picnic basket that Lucifer had manifested for Priam. The other laughed and dug out another wrapped cookie with a flyer attached, eyes flickering this way and that to spot another sinner when they come.

     "It's a busy area, I'm guessing a lot of people work in the other section, but live in this area. Charlie was smart choosing the location of the hotel; it's a home away from home type of spot." Priam raised a hand to a scantily dressed sinner. The androgynous person stepped over, beginning to interrogate Priam on what they were selling. "Oh, just giving away some cookies I made, and flyers for the Hazbin Hotel further in this side of the pentagram!"

     "Does it have crack in it? Poison, maybe?" The person said, suspicion and annoyance tinged their tone. Priam shook their head, frantically insisting that they would never do such a thing. "Whatever, I'll take one. Got a long shift tonight, might as well eat something before Valentino sees," they scoff, taking the treat with less hostility than their personality portrays. Alastor squints his eyes at the prostitute, taking a step to move closer to the lamb.

     "Oh, well, I hope your shift goes well, and your boss isn't awful tonight," Priam comments, sympathy leaking into their speech. The prostitute gives pause, eyes dragging up and down the lamb's body, brows raised, posture stiff.

     "What's your deal, anyway? Giving out free cookies and shit?" They sounded curious now, their guard up but their mind open. Priam waved their hand in embarrassment, not expecting to have this conversation with anyone.

     "I am a guest at the hotel, I just decided to help out in drawing in sinners who might want to give redemption a shot. Princess Charlie is the one who runs it, and she has big things coming her way; a true sweetheart who cares about her people. I'm someone who believes in her." Priam explains as the other begins unwrapping the cookie and flyer, scanning the paper as they took a cautious bite of the cookie. The Radio Demon tilted his head, eyes pinching at the corners as an uneasy feeling flooded his system. "If you decide to check out the hotel, just tell the front desk that Priam sent you," the lamb says, and that is when Alastor swooped in, his arm gliding easily around Priam's back, tucking his hand at their waist as he draped himself to their side, all razor teeth on display.

     The unnamed sinner choked on their bite, eyes popping out at the appearance of the Radio Demon. "Uh, yeah, sure, see ya," they wheezed, their exit swift and their coughs fading away as they headed towards neon lights and brightly colored buildings.

     "You did that on purpose," Priam scolded, raising their head to give Alastor a pouting look. "I really think I could've convinced them!"

     "My dear, sometimes less is more. Giving out too much information can loop you into some trouble." He caught a whiff of their scent as they turned, facing him fully without brushing off his hand, which now rested at their lower back. Their faces were rather close now, and Alastor felt his carnal side cackling at the prey's trust before him. Control. Restraint. He repeated those two words in his mind, combating the predator's instinct as he took in the lamb's face.

     They were rather delightful to look at, all hunger aside. Their eyes were enchanting in the way that one had to meet them when spoken at or to. The way their mouth was crafted was criminal, able to form and pronounce words so eloquently, or frame a bewitching smile that nearly competed with Rosie's, but in a different way. The ears that nestled in their hair were just asking to be caressed, and overall, they just had a body one would want to hug and canoodle with on the sofa in front of a nice fireplace.

     They were just darling in every way.

     In his living life, and even in Hell, Alastor never found anyone particularly fetching. Some were attractive, yes, but not his type to court at all. He made plenty of friends with gals, even connected with some of the boys, but he had missed out on the dating aspect of life. His dear mother had brought it up a few times in his life with her, ever the gentle voice of care and concern. "Maybe you have a singularity--just haven't found The One, you know, baby? Give it time," she'd soothe when Alastor had been at his most insecure state with a lack of a partner. It wasn't like he hadn't entertained the ones who would flirt at him; it just never went anywhere past an innocent peck, one that left Alastor sick and uncomfortable every. Single. Time. Their touch felt violating when it wasn't on friendly terms, and how some would be so bold as to voice their fantasies left the man baffled. So, he spent his time playing alongside the demon in him, learning that even if he didn't have a partner, he could thrive and truly live putting work into himself and his hobbies--which led him here.

     His mother's words were creeping up into his mind as the beast roaring for blood. It was a competition he had occasionally in his mind, but he staved it aaay as much as he could while he watched the lamb before him speak, though he didn't catch a word they said--not at first. He was collecting his mind, putting things back in their compartments. The One. The One. The One. "Alastor? Was I wrong?" They asked, head tilting to the side while they messed with the opening of the basket, taking out yet another cookie. The Radio Demon lurched back in a smooth transition, taking away his hand and placing them both behind his back. Restraint. Control.

     "Pardon, little lamb, but I missed what you said," he apologized, squeezing his hands while he monitored their surroundings. Priam turned, handing out a cookie to a hustling imp, who didn't even argue--or talk hardly at all--as they accepted the treat and bolted away. The gentler sinner paid it no mind, collecting another morsel to give away.

     "Hmm. No worries, I was just asking about what that sinner said. Valentino. That's one of the Vees you had told me about, right? He's the pimp?" They smiled and wished another passerby a good day after handing off the flyer and food, not bothered that the person threw out a 'fuck you' as a response.  It seemed they were both distracted today, Alastor thought as he cleared his throat, nodding towards the other.

     "You are correct. He runs any and all sexual operations within the Ring. He's also one of the faces for the Love Potion I mentioned. He employs Angel Dust, I believe," he informs, seeing Priam's face shift, perturbed and empathetic at this revelation.

     "Oh.... you said the Vees' behavior wasn't the best. Does he treat Angel bad, too?" Alastor clicked his tongue, reaching out without much thought to pinch their cheek without much force, alarmed with himself at how casual his gestures were with the other.

     "I don't think you want the answer to that, dear. Unfortunately, contracts are what they are, and those who get into those spots endure the repercussions on associating with those types. Angel Dust is no exception, even if he is one of the most popular actors Valentino has." Priam's eyes watered at that, their heart bleeding for Angel. No wonder the spider demon hadn't been around as often. If he worked for Valentino, then he'd be busy as much as the sadistic pimp wanted. It didn't help that Priam had seen the injuries he tried to hide when he was around the others. "Oh, no, sweetheart; don't cry. You're such a tender creature," Alastor cooed faintly, swiping one clawed thumb at their under-eye, the beginnings of a tear now wiped away. He cupped the side of their cheek, tilting their head up while he observed the display.

     "I just... I didn't know," they whispered, heart broken at their first exposure to one of the many cruel realities of Hell. Alastor reveled in this reaction, but also found himself wanting to comfort the other, to draw the familiar smile they wore more often than not. Tears, though as beautiful as they looked in their eyes, were a waste, especially here.

      "How could you? You're completely new to the actual experience of every day life in Hell. The hotel is your safe space, where you are protected and nourished. Out here is a completely different world, darling. These souls must do the most every single day to ensure survival--if they have to maim, steal, cheat, rape, or kill, they will without much care. It is rare you will find those like you. Not to mention all of the Hellborn that roam beside them, who can't even achieve redemption." Priam nodded along with his words, their tender heart breaking as the exposure set in stone their situation. "There now, doll. I think you've had enough for today. Why don't you message one of the others on your mobile device, and I will get you back to the hotel," he murmurs with reason, seeing Priam raise their free hand to wipe at their opposite eye, sniffling away the buildup in their sinuses.

     "Okay," they whispered, setting the basket down to pull out their cellphone, head bowed as they began to type out a text to both Charlie and Lucifer. The demon in red had moved his hand from their face, now substituting the touch by petting the top of their head, wary of his claws not snagging in their hair or clipping their ears. "What about the cookies?" They warbled, always worried about the wrong thing in Alastor's mind. "How will we get to those rare sinners if I don't hand out the cookies?" Their voice was so hopeful despite the despair, affecting the demon more than he would admit to anyone, ever.

     "I will take care of everything. Come now, my lamb. I think you'd do good with some tea and quiet. You've done well." The other sinner's lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but not quite there. Alastor snapped his fingers, the basket vanishing, and then offered his arm, making sure that when Priam situated themself at his side, his spare hand covered one of theirs, squeezing to ground the other as they began their walk back.

     A few beeps sounded out from the spot they had stood previously, tiny red dots blinking from their hidden spaces. Cameras, all linked and constantly feeding information back to its source, glitched out for several moments, earning the attention of the man running the whole operation of the devices. A face made from shades of neon blue with stains of red observed the ever flickering panel wall of feedback video, attentive the second one of them showed faulty behavior. That was only typical with one of two things; either they had been broken in a power surge, or the image had purposefully been obscured without harm to his technology. "Well, well, well! Almost an entire month and you couldn't help yourself, Alastor. Not quite a seven-year streak, but we give you applause for the effort."

Chapter Text

     The hotel was quiet when there was hardly any residents present. Angel Dust was out with Husk and Nifty for the time being, and with the Morningstar duo, plus Vaggie, continuing the flyer escapade, that left just three. Wesson was somewhere about in the hotel, no doubt working or taking a break, but he was nowhere in sight when the two had come back from their walk from the edge of the territory. Priam had asked Alastor on the way about Hell, more specifically about the things they needed to know, rather than be shrouded by the others in an attempt to keep the lamb unaware. Thankfully, the Radio Demon had agreed, and masterfully conducted his information in a way that wouldn't further upset the other, but still gave them general knowledge that any sinner would come to know.

     Now they both sat in the small library a few doors down from the lounge, sharing a pot of tea while they continued their chat. Alastor sat closer to the door, while Priam's body occupied the other cushion that was geared towards the window, their gaze mostly fixated on the flourishing garden that now bordered the hotel's plot of land in a tasteful way. "It's surreal," Priam began, facing Alastor with their hands folded in her lap, eyes still watery and threatening to spill at a moments notice. "I think I never truly processed that I've died and now I'm in Hell. Not until today, that is. It was over so quickly, and it's never a dull moment with Charlie and Lucifer around, so I didn't ever just... stop to think about it all. Even at night, with my insomnia, I just.... I didn't bother." They spoke with a slight tremble in their voice, raising a hand to their throat, fingers rubbing the flesh as a self soothing tactic.

     "Darling, if I may pry just a tad. I don't wish to bring up possibly traumatizing experiences, however, I am wishing to confirm something." Priam's eyes looked to Alastor, so open, raw, trusting of the Radio Demon. Their lips wobbling as they nodded, allowing him to continue. "How did you pass?" He narrowed in on their posture, but there wasn't a reaction of any kind. They didn't stiffen, or peel back, or even sigh heavily. Their irises flicked between Alastor's own, fingers at their throat stilling. "It had to be unexpected, sudden. You had no inclination that you would be here, it shows in your lack of preparation or expectancy of what you would face."

     His observations made Priam feel seen, and how he has handled their emotional outbursts so far have been unquestionably kind. The lamb figured they could divulge in some of their dealings with Lucifer. The hand at their neck fell in their lap, reflecting on what seemed like years ago now, but happened less than two weeks ago. "My appearance is a mockery of what I was to my family. That night, I was attempting to complete my duties to them, so hopefully experience some sort of liberation under my choosing. I did, in a way. I didn't understand all the circumstances, but I knew I was given a choice to leave my family. I love them, I do. They've given me everything I could've needed. They loved me in their own way, but there was always a hollowness in me. I wanted to explore what it meant to be myself, and not a product of an outstanding deal with Lucifer." Alastor lifted a hand to cup their shoulder, a silent reminder that they were not alone in dealing with this memory. "It was painless," they continued, emotion slowly toning down as they tried to gather the pieces, to retain some of the mask they wore before all of this. "Just a simple twist and snap--then I opened my eyes and I was in his arms, being lowered onto the floor of his tower."

     Their eyelids lowered as they gathered some courage, swallowing to push down any sobs that wanted to try and form. "Lucifer killed you," Alastor realized, his eyes narrowed as Priam confirmed with a shrug.

     "He broke my neck after we made our deal, but I agreed to it. I just wasn't fully understanding, I guess. I'm so dumb," they whimpered, their voice broken as they threw their face into their palms, hiding any form of suffering while their posture trembled. Alastor was quick to begin rubbing their back in slow circles, crooning to them in a whisper. "I didn't even consider I would have to die to try and have a better life. It wasn't Lucifer's fault--he was just trying to help. I just--" Alastor hushed them then, holding open his arm when Priam peaked through their fingers.

     "Come here, dearest. Tears are natural, and it is clear you have been putting off a good cry," he comments, his insides softening at this turn of events. Never has he encountered such a complex, lost creature before. He accommodated his posture as Priam nestled into his side, their head tucking into the slope of his shoulder, hands curling to their chest with clear hesitation. The red clothed demon continued his ministrations on their back, while his other hand came to theirs, nudging the appendages for permission. "There we go. What a good little lamb." In a smooth motion, their hands held his, idly tracing his knuckles, pressing into some tendons, just exploring the feel as their cries began to bubble from their lungs. Although their smell was truly potent now, and their noises were akin to struggling prey, Alastor's desires of devious intentions were... silent. Still there, just not awakened. It was perturbing, to have something so pliable and ready to be devoured, to just... no longer want it at every moment they got too close, or when their scent lingered on his clothes.

     Alastor continued to comfort Priam to the best of his ability, doing the most to ensure they were safe, that they could bear their heart out in the privacy of their bubble. He even began to hum at one point, a melody from his time alive that was rather popular in the radios and clubs.

     The sound clearly began its magic, for the lamb's sobbing had dampened to mere shakey breaths, the brush of their exhales ticking the demon's chin like a fall breeze. Their fingers were now lamely hung around his own, settled into his lap as exhaustion hit them. He wondered just how long they struggled to have a peaceful night's rest. He paused his tune to check in on the other, knuckles brushing along their cheek to gather any of the tear streaks left behind with docile strokes. "You've cried yourself into a sleepy state, my little lamb."

     "Sorry," they slurred.

     "Never apologize for something good for you. I shall guard you while you rest. Get yourself comfortable," he states, but Priam leaves his side to scoot back in their seat, shaking their head as their free hand came up to wipe at their face.

     "I couldn't ask you to waste any more of your time on me, Al. I should just head to my room." He kept their hands joined with patience, waiting for them to peer at him through their dewy lashes.

     "If that is truly your wish, then I am not going to oppose; however, I must insist you not be alone right now, dearest. It wouldn't sit right with me to leave you so amiss," he spoke with reason, moving his clawed hand towards the other, intending on moving from stray hair from their face. He froze just as he was about to make contact, turning his head sharply towards the door, where that troublesome imp just peaked into the room, no doubt searching for Priam after hearing the commotion.

     "What the hell--what did you do to Priam!"

Chapter Text

     The confrontation was a bit heated from the get-go, and it occurred in a manner much too fast for Priam to even process. Wesson was chest to chest with Alastor at a blink, both standing halfway to the door and a vast aura coating the room. Tones of emerald and chartreuse clashed as each let a bout of power release, the intimidation method from both rather alarming for Priam. There was heat, comparable to the desert that seared the lamb's skin and brought a flesh coating of tears to hydrate their irises. Neither even thought to back down, Alastor's head bowed just to stare animosity into the eyes of Wesson, who had his neck craned just to keep the Radio Demon's face within sight. It was tense, thick atmosphere that caught weight into Priam's throat, all slime and clogging their voice from summoning forth.

     Wesson was all venom and spit. His tail was like a crack of lightening, eyes matching the same hue with not an iris in sight. Two horns grew from the temples of his head, onyx black and curving around his skull almost like a protective barrier. The claws he usually had were extended, shredding his gloves and all together forming a terrifying sight. This was certainly a whiplash from how he usually appeared. He was all smiles, charming words, and wave-like elegance as he handled his chores. He spoke with hushed words to Priam, and never raised a hand towards anyone with ill intent. This was emotionally raw--this was a sinner's corrupt nature.

     Alastor, however, was still relatively tame, except for the eyes that now appear more like dials on a radio. His ears were flicked back, but he kept his posture firm, with one arm casted out to keep Wesson from advancing towards the lamb, ever the picture of a knight at the ready. "Well, well--what miserable timing as always, Wesson," Alastor began, his frame looming over the other in waiting. Wesson met his gaze with nothing but fire and determination, assuming the worst from his own context clues. "Do you truly wish to take things outside?" His voice crackled and distorted, the antlers atop of his head growing in size slowly.

     "If that's what it takes to keep your hands and teeth away from them, then so fucking be it," Wesson snarled, way in over his head despite the bravado he possessed. Priam rose to a stand, their hand reaching out for the two with a plead upon their lips. They were silenced by the cry of an elk, fierce and territorial as it cracked across the air of the room, piercing Priam's ears and freezing their stance momentarily as they processed the noise. It was almost like a command, and the lamb was helpless compared to the two who clearly held more power than they first perceived.

     "Stay back, dearest. This one has rabies," Alastor sneered, all superiority frowning down upon the imp, forging the power gap early into the confrontation.

     "Don't you ever fucking call them that!" Wesson yelled, never once risking a glance towards the delicate creature, who was shaking their head as they murmured 'no, no, no' over and over again. "You can say what you will about me, Hell, I may not even stand a spark of a chance against you--" Wesson began.

     "A surprisingly wise revelation--" Alastor replied.

     "BUT," the imp interrupted. "I refuse to let you hurt them; they are not a meal for you to dine when it suits you. Your manipulation tactics have gone on far enough!"

     "Stop it," Priam commanded, their expression upset with anger and anguish, moving to get closer, to stand at the barrier of Alastor's arm, glaring at the two with a determined aura. "Alastor..." the dials that newly formed his eyes swooped over, the stare a tad unnerving, but Priam held their ground. "Do you have intentions on trying to eat me?" They asked fiercely, despite the fearful tear that ran down the side of their face. Here it was, the confrontation of everything Alastor was wanting to avoid this early in their acquaintance--friendship? Kinship? He hadn't a clue, but the way the lamb was so hopeful, so on the edge of that sweet, blissful dip into despair was so tantalizing.

     "Answer them," Wesson demanded, but Priam voiced out his name in reprimand.

     Alastor's head leaned to the side with a violent snap, an elk's belaying shriek following the atmospheric change. A warning to the impish sinner to stay out of the business between the deer and the lamb. "Do you really want to know?" His voice broke and filtered in ways Priam had never heard before, and in any other setting than Hell, they would have found it incredibly disturbing, but they were more informed now, and knew that in order to have become an Overlord, Alastor had to pack some massive power and ruthlessness under his belt.

     "Yes," they said.

Chapter Text

     It was a build up--the hysterical giggle that left Alastor's lips. At first it was breathless, cruel, one that had Priam's heart begin to sink low in their stomach. The beginning stings of betrayal manifested, overwhelming the lamb to the point of renewed tears. They blinked frequently, trying to dispel the cloudy vision and sight before their eyes. It was as if they had experienced their first heart break all over again--the bond of trust and kindlings of friendship burning asunder in the form of fresh, hot stinging that enveloped from their chest. The humiliation at befriending someone who was so clearly after their flesh purged their cheeks and mind into a flame, breathless to what they wanted, but couldn't say. Was this all.... truly just a game to him? No.... no, then, that would mean...

     The Radio Demon was full on laughing at the other two now, one hand clutching his side while the other was knotted in his hair, like he was having a full on fight with himself. "It's not quite that simple, my darling, little lamb," he warned, shifting his pose all at once time, pouncing with the agility of an Overlord with combat experience. Wesson yelled out, only to be knocked back by a tentacle, his body slamming into the doorframe with a choked yelp. His vision distorted then, horror draining into his veins as he reached out, scrambling for some semblance of balance--but goddamn it! There was three of everything! Not to mention the tentacles that had lashed out were still whipping viciously around the room, not leaving an inch of Wesson to make out what exactly is going on.

     "Priam, run, damn it--run," he wheezed, eyes crossing at the final point of his consciousness, heaving a lungful of air before his strength gave out, just in time to be met with another slam from a tentacle, knocking him clean out with a precise swipe.

     The lamb had no chance to heed the imp's advice, or to even truly hear anything that came from him, aside from the pained cry and the fateful slam of the attack. Their lips parted in a startled gasp, all at once taken up by the very demon who they felt betrayed them. Alastor had Priam's face in his palms now, forcing their head up, their feet raising to the tips of their toes in order to have some semblance of balance. They couldn't fight back--that would be suicide. Their eyes searched the haunting radio dials of the one they were considering was a friend. This wasn't real--it couldn't be. He was just helping them! He didn't have to do all of that if he just wanted to....

     Priam whimpered as Alastor leaned in deeply, the glow of his aura boxing in the corners of Priam's vision so he was all and anything that they could see. Their vision was filled with not Alastor, but the Radio Demon. This couldn't be the very same demon that just escorted them here was it? The very same demon who took the time to comfort them, to explain everything about Hell, to....

     Yes, it was--because this was Hell, and Priam always forgot that fact. "You... are... irresistible," he spoke, all bloodlust and demonic intentions pouring from his words. "Your scent. Your appearance. Your trust. Your innocence. It has me in such a famished choke hold. I have to over indulge on my meals just to stop myself from ripping open your rib cage and feasting on the crimson-coated organs that lay in your body. It's like a song I can't stop listening to--the notes played by a harp, that's begging to be plucked by my very hand." As the description formed images in Priam's mind, Alastor's mouth began to leak spittle, proving that he was serious with his words. "I try to resist, you know. I try to ignore how your smell has my stomach hollow, how the feel of your flesh against my hands doesn't urge my claws to just--sink. In." At that, Priam keened as they felt the pin-pricks at the apples of their cheeks, his index finger and thumb claws breaking the surface of their skin. It didn't hurt, not really, but the looming fact that they were inches away from one of the most ruthless Overlords of Hell, in a very devious position as the one Lucifer had them in upon their first meeting... it wasn't a good sensation of Deja Vu. "I could just eat you up.... Right here. Right now--and cure the ache that your existence has formed in me. Coat my tongue with your blood, and finally know what will satiate my ravenous starvation for you." Their eyes flinched, their own hands coming up to grasp at his, holding them just as delicately as they always had. This was all madness, it couldn't be real--their luck could truly not be that bad! Their fingers squeezed as gently as he always had them, their gaze holding all of their truest thoughts, projecting the sweet fears and desperation for him to not be the very monster they were told to avoid. They didn't resist his home whatsoever, even though their instincts told them to scramble, to kick and scream and fight. "And yet."

     His partially transformed figure began to shrink back to normal, slowly, just enough that Priam could lower their feet onto the floor fully, their breathing beginning to pick up in panic, more uncertain of this turn of events than him becoming the monster he held within. The lamb shook, unable to do anything as Alastor sighed with contentment, his forehead touching theirs in one of the most confusing, but tender motions Priam had received while in Hell. "I cannot find myself wanting to lose your company so soon. You fascinate and entertain me, Priam. I am intrigued to find out everything you have to offer." His voice was calm now, but the fading sounds of victimized screams were proof that Priam did not just hallucinate Alastor's threatening disposition he held just moments ago. Time seemed to have sped up--one second the room was painted green with envy, symbols of various meanings dancing around Alastor like a summoning, now fading to nothing. The tentacles from before were slinking back to the frame of Alastor, just out of sight, no doubt disappearing to their hiding spot until needed again.

     Priam wheezed, feeling the droplet of blood from each cut on their cheek begin to pearl, their scent no doubt blooming now; however, Alastor made no lunge, no reaction other than to turn his hands, capturing the lamb's palms in his own, beginning to sway them as they both had developed the habit of doing. "Breathe, dearest. I shall not harm you," Alastor confirmed with finality. His face leaned away just enough to see Priam, taking in the mix of emotions that cycled through their expressions, all while their shortened breaths hiccuped out. Their eyes were unfocused, chin twitching sharply to the right in an stress-induced reaction, no doubt the beginnings of a dissociative episode beginning. "Breathe," he repeated, beginning to mimic the motion himself, a guide for the other to follow. Helpless to the whims of the stronger sinner, Priam began the steps they needed to try and ground themself; gripping his hands just as he did with them, following the swaying motion with their mind. Their inhales, albeit still quivering, started to deepen. Each exhale was full of anxiety, of unprocessed emotions and uncertain plans of action. They tried to focus on anything, just a single thing that helped make sense of what exactly had just occurred. "Perfect," he praised, continuing to assist the other as they climbed down from their panic attack, their head light with vertigo, but the stabilizing part was flowing to them so much easier than they expected.

     How can the same monster who had their life by the palm of his hand also be the one who can soothe them so well?

     Priam's eyes fell shut, letting out one last extended sigh, ignoring the way their tear streaks stung the small cuts on their face, no doubt washing away the minute amount of blood that had formed in the seam. The room was silent, and Priam had a heavy suspicion that Alastor had knocked Wesson out cold, for there was no way they had been uninterrupted this whole time. "Do you promise?" They asked, hushed as a mouse, all of the emotion drained from their voice for the second time today. Even now, when faced with the manifestation of Alastor's 'Radio Demon' side, they still extended a token of trust, of belief in him. They truly were too good for this place.

     The One. The One. The One.

     "I promise," he replied, blinking his eyes so the radio dials would dissipate, leaving blood-stained irises in their wake to observe the lamb. Priam opened their eyes, meeting his intently. They were searching, treading to identify if this was a ploy to let their guard down, to open themself to an attack.

     Then again, if he truly did, they wouldn't have made it this far. "I believe you, but please... don't ever do that again," they whispered. Alastor clicked his tongue, hushing them in an attempt to balm their apprehension. "I won't say anything about this, just don't..."

     "I deeply apologize for frightening you, my lamb. I lost a bit of myself there. You have my word as an Overlord; I will not bring harm to you." There was a sudden noise, one that perked both Alastor's and Priam's ears to attention. Their joined hands flashed for the briefest of moments, earning both of their gawking eyes. A glowing ring of vermillion had formed around their ring fingers, a tiny linked chain manifesting from Alastor's side, stringing along and wounding about until it hung between the two, finally latching onto Priam's finger with a satisfying 'click'. It was over in an instant, more like a magic spell had occurred rather than a demonic agreement of sorts. The way the chain manifested, what it symbolized--it was all rather perplexing, and very, very new.

     "Did we just make a deal?" Priam asked. "I thought we couldn't stack those."

     "Not soul deals," Alastor replied, an edge to his voice. "This isn't a typical deal. I don't feel the weight of a binding contract... curious. You continue to bring new things into my life, and in such a short time, too." Alastor parted his left hand, raising it up to observe the ring--but it vanished all too soon, leaving both aghast and cautious. All traces of the confrontation were wiped away with a swift shift in reality, leaving only an unconscious Wesson crumbled by the door, his forehead bleeding shallowly. Priam gasped with a start as they eyes swept to find him, their empathy overflowing as they ran to the imp.

     They fell upon their knees with a call of his name, frantic in the way their hands fluttered over his body. "He will be fine," Alastor assured, his steps following Priam's trail like a loyal guard, eyes scanning with boredom over the limp body. "Maybe a new scar or a concussion, but fine nonetheless." He really didn't care either way; Wesson was always a pet to the more powerful royalties of Hell, and therefore, not at all any value to Alastor. He suspected that the imp had wormed his way into quite the spot of Priam's life, which would hinder his first plan; just dumping the imp in cannibal town to be feasted upon. No voice, no witness, therefore, he could continue on as he pleased.

     "Alastor, please, he was just doing what he could to protect me," they reasoned, heaving the upper half of his body to their lap, brushing their hands through his hair to get a better look at the wound. "He didn't know what was going on." Ah, so he was right. Their tender heart and the ever bleeding kindness they had would surely be an unfair advantage they held between the two.

     "All the more foolish of an attempt. Jumping with blind emotion only serves to ensure one gets knocked back down. He barely has any power to call his own. What is the point if there is no guaranteed success?" Priam hummed, feeling Alastor kneel beside them. They were still reeling from the day as a whole, their brain short-circuiting whenever they put any effort into tackling said occurrences. To avoid opening that can, Priam simply went on auto pilot, looking through their lashes at the Radio Demon, unsure how to ask for his assistance. "Tsk. He doesn't deserve your kindness, you know."

Chapter Text

     Wesson woke with a start, his groan uninterrupted while he heaved his upper body onto an elbow, eyes blinking away the build up from what seemed like a long rest. The irritation at the inner corners of his eyelids begged for his attention, and so he swiped at the skin there, hoping to remove the crust as to relieve his first problem; though with the motion, yet another resurfaced. A migraine bloomed to the forefront of his mind, erupting a pained hiss from his lips. Like waves of the ocean meeting the seam of the shore, the sinner-turned-imp crashed back into his bedding, fighting every nauseous roll in his stomach to no proceed. His disoriented mind would not help the navigation to the toilet, nor to the bin he kept across the room.

     Voices could be heard in the distance, no doubt just the bustle of the hotel's normal routine. Wesson guessed he slept in, for he could hear the rambunctious laughter that no doubt belonged to Angel Dust, who typically was no where near conscious hours until at least eleven in the morning, on a good day. That meant he missed his morning chores, breakfast, and the company of the precious lamb that stole his heart right from under his nose. Even the mental image of the sinner brought the dopiest smile to his face, though not without a flinch due to the pain throbbing at his forehead. Faintly, he brushed his fingers along the slope of that spot, only to experience a hot, white flash of searing pain.

     He yelped at the fierce sting, finding a bandage to be blocking his curiosity from exploring where the source of the agony was coming from. He didn't remember drinking himself stupid with Husk last night; in fact, Husk had left with Angel Dust and Nifty just before dinner. He never drank alone, he had learned his lesson from his time under Beelzebub's employment. So... what had happened?

     He searched his memory while retaining his stare to the ceiling, his room completely customized to the one he had back in the living world many, many years ago. It cleared his mind and allowed him to focus on what he was after--which was currently earning the favorable attention of the docile creature named Priam, who brought a semblance of Heaven into Wesson's life after he had to shovel through the trenches of shit in Hell. They were probably fluttering about now, searching high and low for some sort of trouble to get into. They were so kind, and incredibly helpful, but one thing was for sure--they certainly knew how to get themself into some awkward situations sometimes, especially with that no good demon--

     Holy shit, Priam!

     Wesson moaned through the pain as he forced himself out of bed, his steps heavy but urgent as it all came back like a tackle from a bull. That damn Radio Demon--Priam--he didn't! Wesson's eyes squeezed shut to block out the sickly feeling and the haunting thoughts of what may have happened to his precious Sugar, only snippets of his memories playing behind each blink he took. Gnarly teeth. A radio's static. Jade green aura. It was pieces he grasped onto as he stumbled through his room. The hotel wasn't thrown into chaos, so maybe nothing bad had happened? Or had Alastor such influence, that after he had his fill, he simply discarded of any and all evidence, convincing everyone that Priam had vanished?

     No, no, he wouldn't let that bastard win.

     His will alone carried him through the halls of the hotel, eyes blearily searching through the sting of his headache, trying to catch sight of someone, anyone he could get to aid him in confronting Alastor. Charlie or Lucifer would be preferable, he knew they also held a favorable spot for Priam, and he had no reason to lie to them. "Awe, that dame, they didn't have to! That's so fucking sweet!" The familiar accent belonging to Angel caught Wesson's attention, the imp gathering that the spider had company around him--good. The sooner he could inform someone, the better.

     "I could cry! Vaggie, grab the tissues, I feel the tears building!"

     "Charlie, there's no need to cry--" even better, Wesson thought, hearing the conversing between Lucifer's daughter and her girlfriend. He grasped the edge of the doorframe, his step catching on the material of his joggers, causing him to bump directly into the frame with a curse. "Holy shit, Wesson's awake!" Vaggie exclaimed, shock cloaking her speech as others gasped out. Several sets of footsteps approached, the imp forcing his eyes to open despite the never-ending pain that blossomed with every action he took.

     "Oh thank goodness, Wesson. We were all really worried! Alastor told us--" Charlie panicked, only to be cut off by the imp's growl, his grasp on the frame tightening while he lifted himself to his full height, aided by the extra limbs of Angel.

     His finger came up to point towards the owner of the hotel, all fire in his eyes and a hardened gut to stomach the weight of the chaos he would most likely unfold at bringing attention to the hotelier. "Princess Charlie, I've got something to say about that asshole, he's the reason for my injures, and he--" Wesson inhaled deeply, wondering why all of the sudden he was unable to cross the hotel without wheezing for air. Angel patted his back with worry-etched brows, while Charlie instructed Vaggie to grab some water from the kitchen.

     "What do you mean, Alastor did this? He said you fell down the staircase to the basement when the lights went out!" The imp scoffed at that news, figuring that Alastor would try to cover up this with something so stupid like that. Wesson wasn't a klutz by any means; he knew that if something was broken or amiss at the hotel to proceed with extreme caution, as Lucifer's magic did tend to have a bite to it when disrupted. He may not have been employed here for that long, but every resident knows his values, what limits he would cross and wouldn't in terms of respect to those who earned it--and Lucifer was one who he gave some mind to. He understood when it came down to it, Lucifer could wipe his existence off this very realm--or even completely. He was still angelic, after all, even if fallen from God's grace.

     "No.... no. Your Highness, he absolutely caused my injuries. In fact, he didn't just hurt me; where's Priam? They were with me, did he--?" Wesson's voice left him in that moment, the possibility of losing what he assumed was his soul mate enough to leave him more winded than before. Angel Dusk cautioned him with urgent words, a hand coming up to push against his chest to keep the imp from falling over in pain. That pressure, while helpful in the moment, only served to remind Wesson of the tentacles that came from Alastor that day, the very same ones that threw him about like a rag doll without so much as a blink from the Radio Demon. The gap of power was humiliating to even consider in Wesson's mind, but it did have to be recognized.

     Charlie seemed beyond concerned, moving forward the grasp his hands as her head leaned to the side, searching his face for his truth. "Wesson. Priam is fine," she murmured, spotting the exact moment the sinner felt relief. He nearly collapsed against Angel, a heavy and deep sigh leaving his lips as he squeezed her hands. She wouldn't lie; the Princess had a strict set of morals, ones that made Wesson wonder sometimes how Heaven hasn't tried to take her into their side; at least there she would be doing their style of work in a place that would encourage such things. Like Priam, Charlie seemed way more pure of heart and intentions to be surrounded by the filth and sin of Hell. It's a shame she was born into all of this madness.

     "You sure? Princess, is that true?" The hope bloomed in his voice, not dissimilar to an adult who was reuniting with a childhood friend. The royal daughter of Hell's king flubbed for a moment, a connection hitting her mind as she realized the cause for his emotive reaction; he was obviously smitten! How the hell had she not noticed before?! It made so much sense. He was the one who followed Priam around like a dog, not the other way around. Of course he'd be more concerned for their safety than his own, in that, Charlie related to him a lot. Vaggie was certainly extremely important to her, and she felt that in a pinch, she would also be desperately worried for the other's health.

     With a beaming smile, she began to nod her head, soothing Wesson with a quieter tone than before. "Yes. They're actually--" Charlie's voice cut off as Vaggie returned, offering the glass of water to the imp while urging him to sit in one of the chairs that lined one side of the game room they were occupying. "Did you call dad?" She asked her girlfriend, aiding Angel in lowering Wesson into the leather chair, hands hovering with great worry in case he fell over. Vaggie confirmed Lucifer's soon-attendance, encouraging Wesson to drink the water with patience. His injuries still were not healed, and it had already been three days since they found him curled up in his bed, tended to by the lamb he was so desperate to know about. Priam had claimed an accident occurred, and insisted he rest from his duties. Charlie could only get more details from the supposed accident from Alastor, but now things were rather... odd.

     "What's this I hear about our helping hand?" Lucifer's voice emerged from the doorway, a second set of steps matching the King's pace. Wesson looked up, just in time to catch his breath. There stood the object of his affections, worry etched in their brows, his name leaving their lips in an inquiring tone as they approached. Charlie, Vaggie, and Angel parted to give the lamb room to kneel before Wesson, meeting his disbelieving eyes with an explorative look of their own.

     "You okay, Wes?" The way they said his nickname, it was like hearing it all over again for the first time. The imp's shaky hands moved forward, cupping Priam's cheeks with the same handling one would have for a deeply treasured item--so loving and secure. He could sob at how they seemed untouched by the Radio Demon, how not a hair on their head had been disrupted. Pretty as a picture, except they breathed life into them with every inhale, and the way their eyes reflected consciousness and current thought made him want to scream in thanks to the universe for keeping such a darling thing around him, if just for a little longer.

     "Am I okay? Sugar, you scared the ever loving shit out of me. I thought he got you," he whispered, finding just enough strength to tug the other in close, moving to wrap his arms solidly around Priam in a protective embrace, his eyes falling closed as he buried his face in the side of their hair. The silence was deafening, no one sure what to say or do. Though Charlie seemed to be the only one who figured out the affection between Wesson and Priam, she could begin to see the others putting the pieces together right before her eyes, even her father caught up rather quick despite his habit of missing some of the cues other display. His reaction stirred apprehension in the Princess, for with Priam being someone under his wing, so to speak, he seemed as protective of them as he was of Charlie, or even Vaggie now. The shifting of understanding, to confusion, to enlightenment, to offense occurred like a storybook. The Princess stood, moving towards her father, whispering in his ear to explain the situation as Priam began to speak again, calm and soothing words following the motion of their palms, rubbing circles into the imp's shoulders to alleviate any despair he was experiencing. "I'm alright now," he breathed, an answer to Priam's earlier question, at peace now that he saw the lamb was untouched. Though, that just had the impish sinner perplexed.

     He pulled away just enough to look into Priam's eyes, taking in every one of their features, his thumb smoothing along their cheek. "How.... how did you get away from him, Sugar?"

Chapter Text

     Priam huffed an exhale, the corner of their lips turning upward. "Wesson, you hit your head--pretty hard, too." Their words were careful, like they had rehearsed them a few times to themself. Wesson felt his heart drop, brows furrowing as he thought over his memories--dreams? He was sure... no, no he was! Alastor manipulated many of the residents, who's to say that he didn't intimidate poor Priam into claiming innocence. He had so many questions, like if that was the case--why hadn't he consumed the lamb? He remembered the demon in red lunging for the other, it was just before he felt the slamming pressure of being tossed about.

     Something wasn't adding up.

     "I know that, Sugar. He threw me into the wall--why aren't you saying anything? What's he done to you?" He held their chin with the side of his first knuckle, imploring them with his gaze to give him some inch of assurance, to confirm that he was not alone in his accusations.

     "Hey toots, what's going on?" Angel asked, running a hand through his hair at the drama. Priam's lips formed a thin line, their stare becoming something akin to pleading, at least it was in Wesson's eyes. He released his grasp on them, perplexed as to why the lamb was so tight-lipped about everything. There was no other explanation other than the Radio Demon has won their silence, and it brought a rolling tide of rage in the imp's mind. That bastard had no right to use them as his pawn, to be moved about the chess board until they serve no more use.

      "Like I said; he hit his head. Alastor actually helped me carry him to his room, so I'm a bit worried Wesson had some awful nightmares," they said with great care, moving to rise to a stand, their palm sweeping over the untouched flesh of his forehead to seek if a fever had formed--but it was normal. The lamb cooed, making smooth gestures with their fingers to run through his hair, a sensation the imp vastly appreciated. His eyes fluttered nearly closed, an our developing in the back of his throat. Truly a magic touch.

     Charlie leaned away from her father, clearing her throat as the King of Hell moved forward, his frown softening. "That would explain some things. Nightmares can be graphic, especially if you're delirious from a head injury!" The Princess's words were followed by Lucifer peering over Priam's shoulder, squinting down at the expression Wesson held, his apprehension and befuddlement clear as day as he never let his gaze stray from the one giving him endless attention.

     He considered his options, wondering if there was anything he could do; Alastor held a lot of influence around here, and the imp wouldn't believe anything but his own suspicions. Priam was held to some sort of secrecy, he was certain, with Alastor's thumb pressing down on them as a threatening presence. Anyone else; fine, but his sweet little lamb? Hell. No. He was going to figure out what he could do, it was only a matter of what he had to work with, for there wouldn't be much he could do while in the same space as the very demon he decided he loathed entirely. "Yeah," he finally agreed after several long moments of silence, his eyes closing while he nudged his head further into Priam's ministrations. "A nightmare, I guess. It seemed so real," he whispered, hearing the sighs of relief from the others in the room.

     "Look, I'm not going to deny that Smiles is a homicidal manic who enjoys hurtin' others, but if he had hurt ya... ya wouldn't be here, bud," Angel explained, earning a nod from the others, all in agreement that Alastor usually wasn't one for the path of mercy. Wesson didn't argue, but instead bathed in the touches Priam had to offer, his mind already on different ways he could handle the befuddling situation before him.

     The others couldn't be convinced, not without solid proof. Alastor would cover his tracks without a doubt, and Priam was holding their tongue concerning the events that happened. He had some power, but it was minuscule compared to that of the Radio Demon. He only had a few souls under his belt, and since he left Bee's servitude to come work for Charlie, he hasn't had a reason nor an opportunity to advance in the rankings. It wasn't necessary, because he had become content in his routine of roaming the halls of the hotel, making his own through completing tasks and earning some money to call his own. He had began to think about how he'd save up enough money for some land in one of the calmer sections of the pentagram, where he could be free to enjoy his life until he found something else to inspire him.

     Then came Priam.

     Now his fantasies included an extra chair on his porch at his dream home, someone he could pick flowers for, keep tucked against his chest throughout the night--just a truly perfect being he could spoil and adore for the rest of their Hellish lives. It was over from the moment he saw the precious lamb, all wide eyes and marveling at everything around them, fresh off the elevator from what seemed like Heaven according to Wesson's love-struck mind. It didn't matter if he didn't know everything there was about them. There was just this euphoria, this addictive, satiating sensation that fuels his body when he gets to interact with them. How on Earth could he ever live without the out it? Impossible, even if they weren't on the same page--they would be, in time.

     Now, that whole goal was in turmoil, and it was a good motivator for him to get back in his old ways again.

Chapter Text

     "Alright everyone! I have a fun filled activity for us today!" It was a day later, just after lunch, and the Princess of Hell had decided to gather everyone in the lobby to discuss the newest idea she had on a team-building exercise. So far it had been harmless tasks, ice breakers that Priam was tugged into as soon as they had officially settled into the hotel as a guest--but now, the lamb had no idea what Charlie would pull. They stood beside Husk, who was already four drinks in, and had been bitching to the other under his liquor breath, earning to occasional giggle from Priam when he said something particularly silly. The cat seemed to enjoy telling the lamb jokes, it was something he indulged in often when the other was around, but with Wesson out of commission, and Alastor hanging around them more than before, Husker had a few saved in his back pocket that needed to be reviewed. "I figured that since our new hotel floor plan has SO much more space, and there is a ton of nooks and crannies to give everyone a fair chance, I figured we could play Hide and Seek!" There was a chorus of groans from the other residents, except for an enthusiastic Nifty, who made a comment about the thrill of the hunt. Angel Dust, who had been sitting beside her on one of the nearby sofas, gave her a mildly disturbed look, never amused by some of the things Nifty has decided to speak in their time as friends. Cherri Bomb snorted from the other side of Angel's cushion, rather inspired by Nifty's more unhinged side.

     "Now, since there is so many of us, I figured that we could hide in pairs! Wesson is unfortunately still on strict bed rest, so that just leaves nine of us in total; eight will hide, and one will be the seeker! I think this will be a great chance for some of us to get to know our hiding buddy, all while the seeker gets to reflect as they try finding the others!" She was so proud of herself as she spoke, and one glance to Lucifer indicated that the man was feeling the same, his grin broad while he beamed towards his daughter. "Now, to make things fair, I figured we could all write our names down, and put them in a bowl; whoever's name you draw is your partner. The split things up evenly, these are the people who will draw first--" Charlie droned on as she handed out a clipboard with a piece of notebook paper attached and a pen. She instructed to Cherri to write down her name, then pass it on, designating that the first four counter clockwise from the Princess, including the arsonist demon, were the ones who would draw for pairing up.

     Cherri, Angel, Nifty, and Husk.

     The alcoholic feline groaned about this whole thing being a 'kiddy bullshit game', only to earn a sharp glare from Vaggie. Priam had a suspicion that the former exorcist didn't want to play either, but was just being extremely supportive of her girlfriend. "While that is being done, I do have to add another quick rule; when you're found, please return here to the lobby, just so everything can stay organized. I'm so excited!" Charlie squealed, her heels bouncing her up and down as the clipboard fell into Priam's hands, their fingers capturing the pen and scrawling their name under the previous. When they went to turn and hand the board to Lucifer, they startled, bumping briefly into Alastor.... who had been not two feet from Charlie and Vaggie a moment ago.

     "Oh! Here you go, Al," they stated, offering an upturn of their lips while they felt Alastor's hand sweep against theirs to take the board.

     "Thank you, my little lamb," he comments, peering at the list with a raised brow, a momentary pause in the sign off of his own name. Priam tilts their head, wondering what he was searching for.

     After everyone had their name written and the clipboard was returned to Charlie, the demon Princess grabbed a bowl she had prepped from the front desk, having Vaggie hold it as she began to shred the paper appropriately, making each name into a small, folded piece. "Okay, there we go! Now, Cherri will begin the picking names part, and whoever is left, they're the seeker!" There was so much hype coming from Charlie, it was hard not to look forward to the game as well. Priam couldn't resist the grin that formed on their face, hands tapping their sides as they waited to see who would pair with who--that part alone was going to be comedic.

     "HA! Alright Vaggie, ya feisty bitch, you're with me," Cherri hollers, her hands holding the slip of paper with very neat scrawl on it. Surprisingly, the princess's girlfriend didn't argue, but rolled her eye as she stepped over towards the arsonist, scoffing when she reached Cherri's side and received a nudge with the elbow of the bomb specialist. "Commonnnn! We're gunna smoke these losers!"

     "Yeah, as long as you can actually be stealthy," Vaggie replied, crossing her arms over in idle patience. The bowel then passed to Angel, who had a saucy expression on his face, one gloved hand teasing the bowl with a sexual hand motion. Priam pointedly looked away, their face scrunching up. They heard a few members of the hotel scold the spider, earning only an answering cackle.

     "Whaaat? Don't be prude, baby! Let's see who the lucky bastard is..." He unfolded the paper in slow motion, letting the anticipation build up. Everyone's eyes were on the spider, watching his eyes as he scanned the name on the slip, his face forming a teasing smile. "Oh ho, ho. I get to spend some time cozying up to our little imp charmer." His eyes lifted, locking stares with Priam, the darkened scalera he had disappearing under a wink. The lamb couldn't help but to giggle, their steps confident as they made their way past others, voice carrying out to jest Angel, insisting they were not any sort of charmer. "Yeah, yeah, come're toots," the spider said, arms shooting out to wrap around Priam in one smooth motion, pulling them into the space between his spread legs, situating them facing sideways like an infant. He leaned into their space with a cheeky grin, enjoying the way they squirmed at the boundary line he was toeing. "Ya gotta tell me your secrets, lamby. I kinda want my own cutie following me around like that! The whole porn star schtick doesn't work on everyone, surprisingly."

     "I told you, Angel, I didn't do anything!" They whispered back, resigning themself with a huff as the captive of the spider, turning their face to watch Nifty as she dig through the few names left, her wide eye seeming to latch onto the paper that was nearly falling out of the bowel from her rustling.

     "This one looks like a BUG!" She yelled out, snatching the piece with a maniac bout of laughter. She was quick to rip it apart, making everyone else gasp or roll their eyes at the violent reaction. "Now it's DEAD! YAY!" She celebrated, throwing the bowl to Husk before she zoomed around the room, speaking rapidly about finding more of the critters in hiding.

     "Fucking--alright, then, I guess we can guess who's the seeker from the name left..." Husker caught the paper on his claw, opening it with a lazy motion. "Oh, not bad. Common, Your Majesty. We can take a drink before we do this bullshit." Lucifer laughed joyously, approaching the former Overlord with glee at the prospect of getting another appletini.

     The bowel was back in Charlie's hands, the last paper unfolded out in the open for any to see. "Aha... yay. It seems Alastor is the seeker, which means I'm with Nifty." They way she said that was coated in unease, but whether it was for Alastor to be the seeker, or for being partnered with Nifty, no one could pin-point. "Alright, so Alastor, you will be facing the entrance and counting to one-hundred. That should give us all ample time to hide. Now everyone, please keep to the ground floor of the hotel, there's plenty of space and rooms for us to choose from--also no powers! We want to work together to avoid being found. The game will end when Alastor finds everyone, so good luck!" Charlie looked to the demon in red, who took his time heading towards the door, his ears turning this way and that to listen keenly to those behind him.

     "So give it your best effort, everyone. I don't particularly like easy game," he comments, and the atmosphere dipped immediately. Anxiety and fear coated the waiting residents, who didn't know whether he was joking or not. "One."

     As he started the count, a few people scrambled out of their previous spots, darting in different directions. Charlie and Nifty were no where in sight, and Cherri had followed a too-serious Vaggie into the hallway for the entertainment section. Husker and Lucifer were still by the bar, snickering at the desperate performance the others were providing. "Here, dollface, I've got a winnin' spot for sure," Angel comments, not caring on the volume of his voice as he helped Priam stand, keeping ahold on their wrist as he began to stride away.

     "Ten. Eleven..."

Chapter Text

     "You good in here, toots? Not too tight of a space, yeah?" The spider hugged his knees with a childish smirk, focusing his vision on the huddled lamb across from him. They both had decided to cram their way into one of the prep stations in the kitchen, the underneath portion of the table just a giant storage space that fit someone of Angel's crouched height perfectly, while Priam had a bit more room to shift about. The lamb simpered, deciding not to move too much at the risk of nudging one of the sliding doors that kept them concealed.

     "It's fine, as long as I don't overthink it I can handle small spaces. It's not the claustrophobia, but more like... I don't enjoy feeling trapped, like a cornered dog, you know?" They kept their voices low, treating the game like a covert operation. Angel was more used to things like this; he was apart of a crime family after all, he's had plenty of training and situations where he had to cram in the tiniest of places--not to mention all the situations he's put himself in while being apart of Hell.

     "Yeah, I get that. Don't worry, if it does become too much, you let me know; I'll getcha out of here." His expression was kind, just like his personality when one got to truly know Angel. Priam and him weren't super close, but he had mentioned that Priam reminded him of his sister a few times offhandedly, so the lamb assumed that he treated them as such out of instinct. "Hey, so, you gotta tell me the whole deal with Wesson. What's up with you two, eh?" He wiggled his eyebrows as he inquired, trying to pry some gossip out of the timid creature in front of him. "I know I have a job that tends to keep me pretty busy, but even I noticed the chance in him, and usually, you're not too far off. Has he asked ya out yet?"

     "It's not like that," Priam said, "he's super nice and welcoming, sure, but he and I have been just friends. Besides, it takes a lot more than just some quality time for me to develop feelings for someone," they explained, a pout forming.

     Angel hummed in acknowledgment, offering a pat on the lamb's ankle. "Molls was the same way. She had to have someone wine 'nd dine her proper, then they had to earn the approval of the boys in the family, and let me tell ya, it hardly ever happened."

     "It's just... hard for me to find a connection. I've tried, kind of, but everyone else has this... casualness to their relationships, or they jump into all the steps too fast. That's just not me, I have to have investment." Their eyes lifted, able to see in the dark way better than they ever had as a human. The spider's shape shifted, legs relaxing now that he was assured he could fit. "Earlier... were you teasing me, or is there someone you like?" Angel froze after the question left their lips, startled by the perception, even if it was a guess, it had hit too close to home for him to be comfortable. "So there is," they decided.

     "Ah.... fuck it, I know you can keep a secret, you're too goody two shoes in that way. Yeah, I've got the hots for someone--not just the hots, but the sweets. He's good looking AND treats me nice. It's... it's a stark difference from what I'm used to, that's for sure." The feline's grumpy face came to his mind in a filter of hearts and pink glitter. The spider had the fattest crush on him, has for a few weeks now. It was hard to read the bartender sometimes, but he often spoke more through his actions than words; Angel can't recall how many times Husk was up when the spider stumbled home from a horrific day at work, drink sliding across the counter, a ear wiggling in preparation to listen to Angel vent about the latest bullshit Val had him doing.

     "Why don't you do something about it? You're a very confident person, it surprises me that you haven't already got whoever it is." Priam's face was scrunched in the cutest confused look, Angel found himself wanting to poke the end of their nose, just to see how adorable the other got at such a perplexing action.

     The spider shrugged, waving off the idea with a free hand. "It's not worth it, at least, not yet. I'm not sure how they feel, and I've still got a bit to go before I feel like I can handle a relationship." Priam made a soft 'ohhh' sound in understanding. "Enough about that though. So, if Wesson isn't ya type, then what is?"

     Priam laughed breathily, more a shake in their shoulders than a noise from their lips, humored by Angel's antics. They put a finger to their lips, tapping a few times as they thought out what a good answer would be. "I... don't really know. It's not that Wesson isn't my type. I just... I don't think I have a type. It's more about how people treat me and extend a lot of patience towards me than their appearance. Wesson is kind, and thoughtful, but I haven't known him that long, and he doesn't tell me much about his past. I'd like to know who I am getting myself involved with before I even think about relationship stuff."

     "That's fair--damn this hard base is making my ass numb! We might have to move for my comfort," he whines, moving a bit closer towards the sliding cabinet door. Priam felt a bubble of anxiety as Angel nudged the door open a tad, his head dipping so he could peak through the crack. "I haven't heard anything, but I know that creepy bastard would hide in the shadows just to fuck with us." To that, Priam couldn't disagree, especially after seeing how ruthless Alastor could be when he became the full fledged Radio Demon. Wesson may not have many physical injuries to display, but Priam knew that the way Alastor had thrown him about, he did some serious damage.

     "HOLY SHIT!" Charlie's voice shrieked out from what sounded like a few rooms over, a heavy thud following soon after. Angel's head whipped around, staring wide eyed at the lamb as the fear instinctually kicked in. There was always something about Hide and Seek that really had people immersed in the fantasy of predator and prey, the two hiding in the kitchen not being an exception by any means.

     "He'll probably escort Charlie back to the lobby. If we want to change our spot, we gotta do it now. What's your say, doll?" The door to the storage portion was sliding open with a minute pace, giving the lamb an opportunity to back out, to huddle in the corner and not risk any chance of being hunted by the demon in crimson.

     "Let's try. If we get caught, though, I'm booking it."

Chapter Text

     Their relocation spot wasn't bad, but Priam sort of missed the security and comfort of having Angel so close. He decided to hide at the front of the room, a barrier between Priam and Alastor if he entered-- the purpose being more to not scare the lamb right off the bat if they were found. From Priam's vantage point, they could see Angel's feet peeking from behind some hampers, and a bit of the top of his head, but Angel said he wanted to be found before the lamb so he could get a drink already. Priam wanted to at least try and win the game, so they took every bit of courage inside them, pushed it to the forefront of their anxiety, and then climbed into one of the many oversized dryers that lined across the wall, deciding the third one out of the four was acceptable.

     Thankfully, the door to the dryer had a small piece of glass that they could see out of when they tugged it nearly closed, so observing was hardly an issue.

     As they waited patiently to either be found, or to be given up on, the two listened to the silence. There had only been one other yelp from a hider being found, and as such, only two groups remained. Thankfully, that noise had been a decent distance off, so Alastor wasn't anywhere near them. Victory, whatever that looked like, seemed so much closer than when Charlie had alerted them. Priam let out a sigh, their knees and elbows already hurting from being in a prone position as to avoid being seen from that little glass panel.

     Since they had some time to be at ease, Priam crossed their arms and rested their forehead on said appendages, eyes fluttering closed so they could let their imagination run wild.

     It was interesting, getting to spend time with Angel--even though he seemed to be fixated on relationship type stuff as of late. They supposed it was due to him having a crush, he must of wanted to relate and gush with someone. Priam felt bad to not be able to indulge the spider, but he definitely saw something between them and Wesson that Priam just... didn't. Would he be a fabulous partner? Without a doubt. He always made sure to nurture Priam's curiosities and goals, he leapt to defend them against Alastor when he thought them to be in danger....

     He just didn't spur any romantic feelings in Priam. At least, not now. They wondered if they could develop feelings for him. He was just such a treasured friend, and they didn't want there to be any pressure or awkward occurrences due to some one-sided romance, or a ruined friendship because of said emotions. It was perplexing territory, and wasn't feeling natural to even consider shifting their perspective to see him as a... boyfriend--partner--whatever! It didn't matter, but now Priam felt the burn of their cheeks from shame and embarrassment. Why did Angel have to bring up this stuff? Was it to plant a seed in Priam's mind? Has Wesson said anything to the spider about liking the lamb like that?

     The pondering has gone too far, Priam decided, snapping their focus into what was going on around them. Silence. It was odd, for it hadn't felt like this what seems like just moments ago. It was the same sort of soundless environment one would find in the woods and a beast was around. The air carried a tension, thick and heavy, like any catastrophe could happen at any moment, and Priam was not prepared enough to handle it. They were as low as they could be, so they held their breath, ears perking to seek out any sort of noise that may occur to give them some insight.

     Nothing.

     "Angel," they called out quietly, shuffling forward to push open the door, too filled with fear to continue being alone, especially with this new sensation creeping up their spine. "Angel!" Popping their head out of the dryer only filled them with more dread, for instead of a laundry room, there was just... darkness. No discerning shapes or solid items, no way to identify their placement in the.... room? Without much else to go off of, Priam slid out from their spot, raising to a stand and stepping forward, their hands reaching out to feel for anything to give them some sort of grounding. Their lips were lost to form words, beyond aghast at the shift in reality. Even the dryer was no longer behind them! It was all so confusing, so frightening. Priam felt their heart begin to race, their head whipping around to find something, anything--yet nothing was around.

     Nothing at all.

     A tug on their left hand had a lungful of air enter Priam all at once in a gasp, their body shuffling back to try and gather their balance. There was a sound of a chain ringing in their ears, reminding them of the very same noise that followed deals being made. Deals... their eyes took in the sight of their left hand as they raised it to their face, where the manifestation of the vermillion chain was bright, winding around their body to trail off somewhere in the darkness. "Alastor? Alastor!" Priam cried out his name in desperation. "I know this is you--you're toeing the line of our promise!" The chain tightened suddenly, a response from his end without a word reaching their ears. "Fine. I'll come to you."

     Following the chain was simple, for with there being nothing to avoid or run into, Priam only had to walk forwards. The chain remained taut no matter how far they traveled, tethering Priam to the demon in a surprisingly comforting way. Sure, he had questionable morals at times, but he was strong, and he had enough of an intrigue over Priam to ensure they were stable. If this was one of his tricks that the lamb has nearly confirmed, then he would be safe about it. He thrived off of giving Priam a scare, that was without a single doubt, but no harm would occur--Priam reminded themself of this as things began to take shape around them. It started at a sloth's pace, pieces of furniture forming in the style belonging to the 1930s. It was all very much Alastor, with the yellow-hued lighting, the lack of modern influence of any kind, and the comforts of modest living.

     The Radio Demon in question sat just feet in front of Priam, appearing in the blink of an eye. The lamb saw how he played with the chain around his own finger, twirling it like one would a lock of hair while in mid thought. "There you are," Priam spoke with a patient smile, raising their hand to their chest as they exhaled heavily, no longer worried that the nightmare would never end.

     "There you are," he answered.

Chapter Text

     "Did you just use your powers to cheat the game? Charlie is going to be so disappointed," Priam teased, watching the chain as Alastor began to collect the remaining length, having the lamb take a step closer with every inch he reclaimed. It was fascinating to see, the chain getting shorter and shorter, disappearing instead of dropping the would-be excess to their feet. It wasn't until the lamb was standing between Alastor's legs that he paused his ministrations, the very hand holding his attachment to Priam reaching up. Expecting what he was going to want, they offered their own hand, earning a wide smile from the demon as he grasped their fingers, bringing their knuckles to his lips. The piercing maroon irises kept ahold of Priam's attention, forcing them to keep their mind on him while he painted a kiss into their skin, an inhale following the action to reveal something Priam hadn't considered when this whole game began. "You knew where I was this whole time," they accused, eyes narrowing as their cheeks puffed.

     "Did you forget already how decadent you smell? How divine of a morsel I find you to be? I had to take the long route to 'find' you so I didn't let my decorum falter. It was fun, though, to terrify the others. I think poor Husker nearly had a heart attack," he cackled at the entertainment he made for himself, leaning his head to the side while he basked in the sight of Priam, who was peering down at him portraying an air of mock-scolding. "My lamb. Surely you're not upset with me? I saved you for last, to be properly enjoyed. You should count yourself lucky!"

      "I feel like the game was pointless for me. No matter where I'd hide, you could track me in an instant. I hardly count that as fair," they jested, humming in inquiry when Alastor pulled their interlocked hands a tad, unsure as to what the demon wanted. He didn't respond, however, and just kept lightly urging them with that same motion. "You're a grown man, Alastor, just ask for what you want."

     "My, my. You do have some fierce bites in you yet. It makes this all worth it to see yet another side of you. Very well. Come closer, dearest," He insisted.

     "I can't, Alastor. I would have to sit in your lap to do that, and I know we both hate physical contact like that," they replied, raising a brow at the way the demon was staring them down, a fracture of a twitch forming at the corner of the demon's eye.

     "Aha, quite right, but I didn't see you protest with our friend Angel." The lamb frowned minutely, ears wiggling as a thought crossed their mind. Alastor wasn't... jealous, was he?

     Priam tilted their head to the side. "No, I didn't," they agreed, "but Angel caught me off guard."

     "All the better to indulge me, then, since I asked so nicely." He was all smug now, thinking he won with outright logic, rather than admitting he wanted to try something he saw another do. It was childish, but also so round-about, a true indicator that Priam was dealing with the real Alastor. His free hand was tapping out a tune with his fingertips, waiting and watching to see when he would receive what he wanted. Though, Priam had learned something that was so common of an occurrence every time they interacted. Alastor was always entertained with bargaining, and not just in a contractual way. "What is going through that pretty head of yours, hmm?"

     "I will cater to your request--only if I get to touch your ears," Priam countered, feeling the swipe of his thumb pause along the side of Priam's hand, giving a cheeky look to the scandalized one they got in return. "An exchange. A very generous one for you if I do say so myself," they taunted, reflecting words that Alastor himself has used before during their first shopping trip.

     He hummed dramatically in thought, his head rocking from side to side as he internally debated. "I supposed it won't hurt..." he drawled, clearly humoring Priam. Between the two, Alastor would always have more power. If he truly wanted to, he could make the lamb do whatever he wanted, but that would go against so many of his upbringings and morals. Plus, it was entertaining to have proper banter with someone who was learning rather sharply how to match him tit-for-tat. "I agree to your terms."

     "Perfect," Priam chimes, following Alastor's guidance to slip sideways into his awaiting lap, legs tangling with the one closest to their own. There was a low hum of satisfaction from Alastor, almost too low for the lamb to catch, but they didn't acknowledge it aloud for the sake of keeping their ear-touching privileges. "Okay, gimmie!" They pestered with a giggle, the demon in red answering with one of his own, his head bowing forward slightly in a polite gesture for Priam to be able to reach the flicking tuffs of fur. "I'm not going to hurt you by touching them, am I?"

     "Always so kind, even after I agreed to your whims. As long as you do not squeeze, I will be just fine," he answers, settling one of his hands respectfully on Priam's knee to balance them, while the other just rested on the cushion beside him, arm posed as to support the lamb's back. Priam murmured an understanding noise, their touch hesitant, but eager as their fingertips grazed the base of the fur that blended into his hair on his scalp. It was delectably smooth to the touch, and beyond adorable that his ears twitched the moment Priam graced them with touch. Sensitive.

     "So... why did you do all of this, Al? Just to give me a little scare? You could've just popped in front of the dryer and got me good," they wondered aloud, hands resting in their lap now that they've spent their short allotted time playing with the ticklish appendages. Alastor was just keeping them in his sight, studying their every move like he was seeking the answers to a puzzle, their body a warm compression that held the nectar he so thoroughly desired.

     "That would have been amusing, yes, but then the game would have ended so soon! You should know by now that I am a man that enjoys savoring things. Even if I can follow the call of your aroma, what's the fun in that? You yourself did enjoy the game, despite the fear that filled you at the unknown." His words were almost honey-glazed with sweetness and charm, but Priam caught onto something he said almost immediately--He wanted them to have fun. Now it made sense, the reason he was staring at the clipboard earlier in the lobby, how he had appeared beside them and observed their behavior. Hide and Seek was an amusing activity for both of them, and he had let it drag out for the sake of fun. Priam wouldn't be surprised if he did something to the paper so he would be picked last.

     "You're a softy down deep, aren't you?" Priam asked, their hands reaching up to settle on his shoulders, only making contact when Alastor inclined his head in acceptance.

     "Not in the least," he replied humorously. "I am a dangerous demon Overlord, who could eat you up the second you let your guard down too much, little treat." He adjusted his grip as he spoke, holding their back with fingers splayed.

     "But you won't," Priam pointed out, their subconscious having them begin to play with a strand of his hair--just going with what felt right in the moment. The air around them was quiet, secretive, and rather intimate, as if a bubble created just for them. Priam didn't know what to think about it, or even how to feel; in reality, they knew Alastor could do those things, he absolutely could disregard their arrangement, tear their body to shreds, and feast on every single organ like it was a delicacy. He was all sharp angles and ruthless power, but for some reason, he had a very current investment in the lamb. They had not a single clue as to the reason, but until that interested waned, or Priam found a way to redeem themself, they both participated in this tango, matching one another's moves at any chance they could. "Alastor, would it be presumptuous to call you my friend?" They asked suddenly, seeing the way Alastor's face softened, lips resting from a smirk to a simple smile.

     "Presumptuous? Certainly, but then again, I don't canoodle with everyone like this, so I would say it fits our current status."

     "You're saying I'm special?" Priam asked with a heavily facetious tone, eyebrows raised to show that they were not trying to get under his skin, but simply enjoying the back-and-forth teasing.

     Alastor began chuckling to himself, the hand on their back trailing upwards, fingers ticking the back of their head until he had a palmful of their skull, tilting their head back to expose the full expanse of their throat. Priam followed the motion without protest, having all the trust and confidence that he would not harm them. The heat from his breath brushed their throat, his exhale a shutter as he got a direct source of their scent. The flesh is so tantalizing, blood rushing just under the surface, like a sweet siren song just for him. He bared his teeth, the temptation to take a nip tickling the back of his brain--but he refused himself, not wanting to break their bond nor hurt the pretty thing in his lap. Instead, he pressed his face into their neck, inhaling deeply the nectar that trickled its way into his mind.

     "Oh, dearest, you have no idea."

Chapter Text

     Another few sleepless nights passed, and tonight was yet another one to experience. Priam stared at their ceiling lamely, the lids of their eyes feeling heavy, and yet, anytime the lamb darkened their vision, all that happened was flashes of their time down in Hell; from their very first sight of Lucifer, all the way to just this morning when Alastor had made breakfast for the first time since they have been there, a traditional spread he claims his dear mother used to treat him to more often then not. Priam was also surprised at the fact he even joined them for breakfast, especially since he never had before, and Priam came to learn that the Radio Demon was a connoisseur of different means of flesh. It was glaringly obvious once the lamb put some thought to it, what with all the ogling he has done at the prospect of consuming them.

     Wesson had been civil during breakfast, which was something Priam hadn't expected. He had been rather jaded as of late, not that the lamb blamed him. They made a promise to Alastor, though, and to keep silence over that day was easier when their physical safety was at stake, even when it felt awful to continue to gaslight the imp against what was true. At least he wasn't completely withdrawn from the rest of the hotel; he still stuck to Priam whenever he could, always doting and ever so protective. The demon in red had pushed that boundary a few times with the imp, but thankfully before anything could occur yet again, Charlie had swept Alastor away for some tasks to be completed.

     The rest of the day had been uneventful, as have the days before that. Charlie had given indication that they would be working on some redemption exercises soon, but until then, everyone had been left up to their devices, and Priam was one who had to stay busy.

     Just like now.

     If lying in bed wasn't going to result in any sort of sleep, Priam decided to just give up, sliding out of the sheets to find something to do instead. They have been keeping their room tidy and organized, so nothing much would keep them busy there. There was a small chance that wondering around the hotel would prove to tire them out--a chance that was seemingly worth it as long as they didn't stay idle. Thoughts of their family plagued their mind when they were left too long with their thoughts, and they'd rather not get consumed with the guilt and sorrow of leaving their family behind for Hell of all places.

     Maybe Husk could use some company while he waits for Angel, Priam thought, smoothing their hands over their long pajamas. Maybe Priam could get a drink so help them relax. Anything to catch up on some sleep--it has been several nights without rest for sometime now.

     Throwing on a robe as a caution to the possible chill of night, Priam grabbed their key and left the room, advancing towards the elevator with not a bother--there was no one else on their floor, so they weren't too concerned about their safety or the risk of disturbing others.

      It wasn't until they reached the lobby that they tried to be more like a mouse, stealthy and near silent. It sort of reminded them of their Hide and Seek game, but without the terrifying sensation of being hunted. Priam made it all the way to the open space of the lounge, spotting the bar with its dimmed lights and lack of patrons. The bartender who often stayed glued to his station was faithfully there even now, but clearly he looked to be waiting for someone--Angel Dust, no doubt. "Husker, hey. Need some help keeping the dust off the bar?"

      The feline demon whirled his head, startled, towards the lamb, eyes taking in their appearance as they shyly waved in his direction. His posture settled back into a casual lean, hand already reaching out towards his alcohol-lined shelf. "Hey, kiddo, what are you doing here? Can't sleep again?" He asked this while he poured the liquid into a shaker, his concentration not affected by the fact his eyes didn't stray from Priam, just keeping tabs on the things the other was doing. Priam was unbothered by this as they slid into the seat directly across from him, use to the fact that Husker had always acted suspicious of everyone--an expected trait of a swindler in his day.

      "Nnnope. Can't sleep most nights it seems. I think there are too many demons for me to try," they replied, tapping the side of their head with an index finger to indicate the location of such creatures. Husk hummed to show his understanding, beginning to shake the concoction with ease of someone with experience. "Hey, Husk? Can I talk to the bartender?" They asked quietly after the other stopped their ministrations, an air shift occurring once the feline processed what the lamb just asked, his ears flicking distinctly atop his head. That phrase was familiar, though rarely anyone used it anymore.

      "Everyone else does, you might as well join the crowd," he jokes vaguely, pouring the mixed beverage into two glasses with the grace and skill of a bird taking flight. Priam was jealous of whoever got to witness Husker in his prime, he must have been beautiful to watch as he put his passions and heart into his craft. Now he carried an air of reluctance, of a man weighed by unspoken issues that haunted his every step and lived within his shadow. "What's on your mind, kiddo?" He slid a glass over as he spoke, a kindness Priam appreciated with a smile, fingers tracing along the cup to contemplate their next words, briefly at a loss for how to even begin their plight.

      They shrugged their shoulders at first, tilting their head from one side to another as words flew through their mind, ever escaping their grasp in the late hours of the night. It seemed the daylight inspired them more, but that was probably due to the constant distraction of whomever they crossed while perusing the hotel. "I feel like I already know the answer to this.... but I left my family quite suddenly. For years I did everything I could to.... to make them proud, I guess. I just... I wonder if it ever gets easier, to miss them. To never know what happened after, well, you know." Priam gestured as they spoke, one hand waving around as if to conjure an image to aid them in their description for if their words failed them, while the other set of fingers tapped patiently on the side of the glass. "It's been a constant set of thoughts that keep me up, among other things, but this is what has been eating at me since I got here."

      "Hmm." Husk took a concerning gulp of his beverage, either to take some time before replying, or just a ritual for the first 'sip' of his freshly poured drink. Priam didn't know which, but gave him all the time he needed by raising the glass to their own lips, sampling a taste--surprisingly not awful, though there was a small tang of booze that warmed their throat as it descended to their stomach. They decided to nurse it, just in case it was one of those types of drinks that packed a punch. "Well, kid, it's always hard to let go of something you knew for a long time in your life--for you that was your family. To be without them for any length of time is going to suck, but, who knows? Maybe it was the best option for you. Either way, it's okay to miss them, and it's okay to mourn and wonder over it all, so long as you don't let it affect you like others down here." He was wise, that much was apparent, but the typical over indulgence of alcohol definitely masked that part of him, creating that uncaring, grumpy persona he wore to avoid getting too involved into potential trouble. His elbows met the top of the counter, looking Priam in their eyes without any particular expression on his face. "Either way, now it is best to look after yourself. You're the safest you can be here, but that doesn't mean you're not completely out of danger."

      "Are you talking about Alastor?" The name brought a very noticeable shiver down the feline's body, hair raised to match the pin-prick formations of his formerly rounded pupils. "Sorry, I probably shouldn't have brought him up, I've kind of picked up that you aren't the largest fan of his."

      Husk snorted, eyes pointedly honing in of Priam's drink, to which the lamb consumed a bit more, not wanting the bartender to be offended by their minor sips. "He doesn't much care for the masculine presenting types. Has a charm for more... docile kinds, ya know, like Charlie and Rosie." Priam furrowed their brows at this, the name of the unknown woman churning their stomach in an unidentified way. Whatever it was, it sort of felt close to nausea, which the lamb didn't care for--so they drank some more.

       Their head started to feel a bit lighter.

       "You saying he's got me fooled?" They asked point blank, avoiding bringing up others when they weren't a concern. Husk rolled his shoulders and head in the same way Priam did earlier, no doubt also trying to word his explanation to suit Priam's possible reaction. He was without knowledge of that day in the library; therefore, he most likely considered Priam to be one of the blinded-by-his-charm types. The lamb did have to wonder though; what was Alastor's whole purpose here? Surely it wasn't just for his desire for sadistic entertainment, he could find that anywhere. Unless it was to access Charlie, who is considerably more powerful than she portrays, then he'd have a direct link to Lucifer as well. Hmm...

      Husk breathed out a long sigh, moving to grab more bottles from the shelf, intending on making the same beverage as last time. The other felt a bit behind, moving to swallow more alcohol to catch up. "Don't take offense to it, kid. Alastor's got his specialties that aren't just his powers. There's a reason he climbed so fast, and it wasn't only because of his claiming of souls and the lives of former overlords. He has connections--many, many ones throughout Hell."

     "It's almost like he's trying to become a more influential King of Hell," Priam comments offhandedly, feeling warmth in their cheeks bloom under the magic of their beverage, every last drop being sipped down on Priam's final swig, the cup making a distinct noise as the lamb set it atop the table, leaning heavily on their palm. They considered Husk heavily with their gaze, assessing the connection between the bartender and the hotelier. Their mind was swimming a bit, so logic was a bit harder to grasp. "Say.... if you and Al don't get along, why are you even here? This doesn't seem like your.... thing." They slurred as they spoke, feeling tingly and light as a cloud, the after effects of alcohol truly surfacing in their inexperienced body. "Didn't lose a bet, did ya?" They giggled off handedly, turning in his stool with a hum.

     In their distracted state, they missed seeing Husk freeze from uncapping a bottle, ears tucking to lay flat against his skull, while those ever suspicious eyes narrowed once more in the lamb's direction. Their perception was terrifying, although he doubted they were right of mind to commit to their insight; for that, Husk was thankful, but it still gave him a start to be so guarded, and yet with the most minute clues that they knew about Alastor and Husk, they were able to tango around various things that earned death for those who dared to investigate. He had to steer the subject away now, for who knew who was listening at any time. He resumed making another drink, though this one was much stronger than last time, his eye keeping Priam's glass in sight. "You up for another round, kid?"

Chapter Text

     Everything was blurry, and it would have been absolutely terrifying had Priam been in any other state of mind. Instead, they found it more than amusing, endlessly spinning in their stool to aggravate the dopey feeling they were experiencing. It was way too delightful, to become so weightless and have the world slow in motion before them. If alcohol did this, the lamb understood why sinners got addicted to the sensation. It was an alluring killer, a numbing poison that can and would take the life of one who indulged too much. Husker had cut them off an hour ago, and after Angel had gotten back, Priam had urged them upstairs, claiming that the spider needs to rest and recoup. It took some major convincing, and Priam promising that they just needed some quiet--some time to just ease the funny effects off from the alcohol.

     Husker had locked his liquor stash, much to Priam's offense, but they understood that he was just doing protocol. So this is what led them to spinning around on the stool until they got that disoriented sensation, where the room moved even when they were still. It made them giggle to themselves, thinking it brilliant to attempt to make their way across the room, to the path that took them to the lounge. Their first steps were embarrassing, no doubt a picture-perfect comparison to the fawn from a certain famous franchise from their living life.

     Their living life? How long ago was that now?

     They frowned, stumbling into the doorway that led to the lounge just off to their right. Priam squinted their eyes, shaking their head as the forms and shapes in the vision swam about. "Okay, this part sucks," they decided in an annoyed mutter, reaching out their hand to the darkness, feeling their way to dispel any discourse their vision was trying to cause them. As their mind became more comfortable in the puddle of haze and disorientation, Priam became less happy with their state. They just had to make it to the sofa, then they could stare at the ceiling until the feeling goes away. They repeated the steps to bringing said plan into fruition aloud, though slightly slurred and low-toned, as if they were receiving a scolding from their parental figure.

     Did they even have one of those anymore?

     Success felt phenomenal when they finally hit the cushions, their face firmly pressed by the throw pillow tucked meaningfully against the arm of the sofa. The lamb bleated pathetically, eyes trying to focus on the images printed on the fabric as they slowly circled in their vision. Now that they couldn't just grasp control, Priam realized that they didn't like getting drunk; they had no sense of self, just that the world seemed so much more out of touch than it already was. They slapped the cushion beneath them, turning so the back of their head was protected by the pillow, though the ceiling above was a bit too far to properly see, and the darkened tones from the hotel being dimly lit didn't help. All the circus themed motifs Lucifer had instilled in the hotel were more jarring than charming now, creating shadow images and creatures that had always held a terrified place in Priam from their childhood days, when they were being introduced to their purpose.

     What even was their purpose now? Lucifer had rejected the prospect of giving Priam the thing their family had wanted, and now they were bound to the King of Hell. It was either redemption or--

     Or what? Eternal servitude under him until he got bored or frustrated with Priam? He seemed to have a passing fancy type of personality, and the second something is out of his vision, it is forgotten about. Priam could relate, but it did hurt when it came to themself.

     Did their family forget about them too? Have they moved on, now unburdened with their obligations to Lucifer since he took Priam's soul instead?

     "Tsk, tsk. My ti mouton, you are oozing misery, that just can't do." The gasp that left the lamb made them blink feverishly, realizing that tears had began to build in their eyes as they were lost in thought. The fat droplets of water chased down the curve of their cheek, no longer an obstruction so Priam could take in the wavering figure of Alastor, who was leaning over the edge of the sofa with a patient look on his face, hand already coming out to dry those trails left behind. "I thought I smelt you lingering about. Tell me, what has your mind being cruel?" He tilted his head, smile hiding the rows of sharp teeth, most likely to comfort the lamb.

     Priam gripped the cushion under them, pushing with all their might to lift themself successfully in one motion of effort, their sniffles cut short as they turned to meet Alastor head on. "What are you doing up, Al? Couldn't sleep either?" They asked with warbled concern, almost by instinct their hand moved to grasp his, which was waiting in the offered position. Their fingers twined together, rocking back and forth in a dance all their own.

     "I regularly make rounds at night to ensure the hotel is as it should be, but this time, it seems there was a very intoxicated creature in the lobby. Did Husk let you get so amiss?" His knuckled brushed the underside of Priam's face with care, tilting their chin up to get a better look at their pathetically precious face, addicted and anguished at how the tender lamb was suffering, the adjustment finally hitting them in their weakest time. When the other's lips confirmed his bartender's dealings with the spirits, Alastor's right ear flicked in agitation. He would have to discuss this with Husk at a later date; it was pure neglect to allow someone so... so them to get this drunk.

     "But I kept drinking; it was my fault for not knowing my limits," they protested, ever so careful in their words so the blame would direct to them, always taking accountability for others mishaps. Alastor cooed at Priam, silencing their self-blame without much fuss. "I'm sorry," they whispered, the ears they possessed curving downwards, both a submissive and apologetic gesture. The Radio Demon sighed, wondering what on earth he was going to do to break their previous upbringing, and reshape them to be someone more confident, more unafraid to face the skeletons in their closet. This type of attitude would get them eaten alive in the every day world, and Alastor would be damned again if he let anyone else have a single tease of a taste.

     "You have no reason to apologize. You're learning about things you've never experienced. Just relax, I will aid you through this." He glanced about the room, not spotting a single glass of water--that feline bastard was definitely on Alastor's priority list for the morning. Without much thought, he summoned a chilled cup, the ice clinking to confirm the temperature the water would be. Satisfied, he offered the beverage to the lamb. "Drink up. You must stay hydrated, or you will get sick." Priam took the advice to heart, for they began sipping the water almost immediately, lashes fluttering as they moved to close their eyes, savoring each refreshing drop. Alastor hummed, approving of how well Priam always listened to him, how trusting they are despite the danger before them. It would certainly be beyond cruel to break that trust, a temptation Alastor has occasionally acknowledged from time to time. "All done? Good lamb," he praises, taking away the glass without a single protest. He released their hand, only to step around the sofa, setting the almost empty water on the coffee table before them. He also shed his coat, holding it momentarily as he sat down. "Come now, dearest, rest your head here," he commanded in a gentle tone, patting his thigh to demonstrate what he meant.

     Like before, Priam hesitated, staring at the hand awaiting to aid. They were most likely considering Alastor's comfort levels more than their own; they were definitely a people pleaser, but had a smidge of defiance when it came to physical touch--calculating and ensuring about what the contact meant. "I will keep you safe," he promised, noticing how their eyebrows flew up in surprise, eyes reflecting just how much that statement meant to them. A smile was appearing now, their body moving to stretch across the sofa, returning to their previous position with a breathless bout of laughter. Both of them reached for their hands at the same time, meeting at the empty space between the two to lock their fingers. Priam urged made a noise of questioning as they brought his hand to their collarbone, eyes peering to Alastor for an answer. "I shall let you know the moment a touch or action of you bothers me, rest assured." Priam made a bleating noise, moving his hand to their cheek, where they nudged his knuckles against their flesh. They were becoming comfortable, melting into a puddle at the thought of being safe.

     It made Alastor wonder how often they got to feel that way. Truly, utterly incapable of receiving any sort of harm.

     With his other hand, Alastor expertly covered Priam's upper half with his coat, tucking it around their frame as to keep the chill away. "Thank you for taking good care of me, Alastor," they whispered, eyes already becoming heavy, if their constant fluttering was of any indication. The Radio Demon began petting the top of their head, finding himself and his monster at peace with this image before him.

     "I find myself rather enjoying doing these things for you, sweetheart," he said, his gut wrenching when he realized that he had indeed said that out loud. Sure, he enjoyed aiding his friends like Mimzy and Rosie, but they had a long standing history. Priam has not been in their company for more than a few months, and yet... if he had to admit it to himself, he was becoming rather attached, and not just to the prospect of dining on their heart as dessert. This vulnerability was... alarming. He scanned their face as they tucked the back of his hand against their jaw, using their free hand to cup over his knuckles, an ever innocent smile present on their face. Their eyes were closed now, no doubt the booze luring them to sleep.

     "That's good. Hey, Al?" They were whispering now, their voice much more airy and teetering on the line of unconsciousness. He hummed in questioning, allowing them to continue. "Do you think, if you ever became a Prince of Hell, or something like that... do you think I could be one of your waiting staff? I'm not royalty material, but I'd still like to be around you." His hand stilled atop of their head as he processed what they said, amusement flowing past the alarm in his mind. They had no idea what he was doing, nor his plans that were beyond this hotel; they were just babbling in their drunken haze.

     "What about your redemption?" He asked, humoring them for the moment. The reaction he got almost immediately was too precious, how their eyebrows pinched, one eye peeking through their lashes. Clearly, they didn't expected him to bring reality into their conversation. He felt the need to back peddle then, knowing that the subject would only upset them. "I think you'd suit the royal role perfectly, my lamb. I wouldn't allow you to work while I was in charge. You would have to amuse me with my games, however," he says, continuing his petting with ease at the sight of their face relaxing, eye closing once more.

     "Hmmm... I could do that," they huffed with clear amusement, their posture becoming more relaxed.

     Alastor continued to comfort and protect Priam as they slipped into the realm of dreams and healing rest, his hands never parting from their body to ensure they stayed asleep, their peaceful appearance too darling to disturb. His gaze remained fixated on their lashes, finding the way each lash kissed the top of their cheek to be inspiration for poetry, and how smooth their lips were as they occasionally parted to release a particularly deep breath. It was cozy, to be needed in a way that didn't drain his social battery or extend the use of his powers. Priam wanted nothing from him but his company and his occasional attention--they didn't demand, nor endlessly complain, they were all sweet words and a bleeding heart for possible errors on their part. Not even Charlie compared to how good-natured they were.

     Which reminds Alastor of the nagging question in the back of his brain; were they even able to be redeemed due to their contract with Lucifer, or would the King of Hell release their deal for the redemption to be achieved? If that was so, then Alastor could offer a reprieve, a boon of sorts. It was not apart of his sinister plans for the future, but...

     Alastor's eyes closed, his mind drifting.

Chapter Text

     The smell of his home never changed; it was always full of fresh spices and cooking food. Alastor was staring at his reflection, his human self never straying from how he used to look, no matter how many years have passed. Dark, honey toned irises flicked as he took in the same smooth olive skin, impeccably groomed eyebrows, fluffy styled hair, and his signature spectacles that rested on the bridge of his nose, allowing him to read the various books his dear mother gifted him when she had the excess funds. The water in the sink was running , streaming over his hands and dragging the bundles of suds down the drain. This dream never changed. He went to work scrubbing his hands, knowing that his mama was waiting for him in the kitchen, dinner being served soon. It would be the same dish it always was, and she would have the same conversation as they always did. A comforting dream, one he had often enough when he was truly at rest.

     When he got to the kitchen, there his mama was, working hard over a boiling pot as she swiped at her forehead, no doubt about the sweat building up. It was summertime, and making something hot while it was sweltering outside always proved to make someone perspire. "Do you need any help, mama?" He asked with all the happiness he felt at seeing her, even if it was just a dream. She turned to him, hand still stirring the jambalaya idly while she gave a smile. The wrinkles around her eyes creased, the very same eyes and skin tone matching him apparent even in the yellow-hued lighting that was available back in their time. He tucked a stray dark mahogany strand back behind her ear, to which she cooed to him, pinching his cheek.

     "No need for all that, child. Why dontcha finish settin' the table, ah?" Her smile was fond, teasing, doting--all the things Alastor held dear and treasured in his memories. He complied with her request, as he did each time, and collected two sets of dishes, placing the set before him on the table. He began to unstack the sets, hand graceful as he set down each bowl, glass, and spoon. As he turned to grab some napkins, he heard his mother tsk, a reaction that froze him in his steps.

    That wasn't right.

     "Child, did you forget our guest?" Guest? Guest!? They've never had visitors this late; this was a deviation. He looked back at his mother, replacing his shock with a sheepish expression, receiving a shake of his mother's head that was beloved. "It almost slipped ya mind, did it? Your thoughts is busy today, my precious boy. Go grab one more set, they should be here soon." Alastor swiftly obeyed his mother, but the anxiety of the unknown began to eat at him, tossing glances out of the open window atop of the sink to see if he could spot the newcomer. Was it the memories left of his papa? He'd kill the man the moment he saw him--wait. No.

     He was already dead. Alastor made sure of that years ago.

     "Mama," he said in an inquiring tone, hearing her hum in acknowledgment. "This guest..." he trailed off, unsure how to ask without his mother becoming concerned for his well being.

     She looked onto him with worry anyways, but there was a twinkle in her eye as she began to speak. "Now, now, Al, baby, you know your mama won't embarrass you... too much. I know you've been fretting about this dinner for a week now, but I promise--everything will be perfect." His mother was so kind, so generous in how she fretted and soothed his disgruntled woes. Well, it looked like he was getting nowhere. He supposed he'd just have to wait until they appeared, whoever they were. So, to quell the anticipation, Alastor made himself busy by going to fetch the bread she made earlier in the day, intending on heating the appropriate amount of slices they'd need with just the two--three people.

     Just as his mother brought the large pot to down to a simmer, there was a timid knock at the doorway, warning the attention of both residents. The door that led to the pathway winding around their home was left open to create an even temperature throughout the house, and so the figure standing in the doorway was lit from the evening sun rays and the lights within the home. His mother gasped with joy, her hands wiping over the front of her apron as she scuttled towards the person, her hands outstretching with intention to embrace the other. "Oh, hello, you must be Al's mother," they spoke, a familiar tingle moving down Alastor's spine at the timid, polite voice. The appearance wasn't right, but they did look oddly familiar--just not as they were... human. His eyes flicked to where he expected a pair of ears to be nesting in their hair, but there was nothing. Their skin was no longer an ashen corpse blue, but flushed with life and blood flow. Their expression was hesitant as his mother embraced him, his instinct to urge his mother to stop--they didn't like touch-- "It's such a pleasure to finally meet you," they breathed, clasping his mother's hands within their own when they pulled away. He was stalled, hands resting on the chair that would sit their guest, face most likely displaying his perplexed mindset while he observed how the two conversed comfortably.

     "Oh, Al! Hi!" They waved sheepishly--sheep. That pegged another sting of familiarity, but he couldn't find a name on his tongue. His mother gave him a stern look, to which he straightened himself out, his long legs carrying a stride as he approached the two. His lips curled into a smile, all too human teeth on display while he offered a hand for them to shake; although that felt wrong. The precious doll before him laughed in good-nature, forgoing the handshake to wrap him in a tight hug, their scent hitting him like a ton of bricks atop his head. It was so potent, so deliciously decadent that he choked upon inhaling, hands automatically grasping their back to bring them in close, head bent to press his nose into their hair, becoming rather intoxicated on the pheromones. "Thank you for inviting me over," they had said against the cotton of his shirt, pulling away after a moment to beam up at him.

     The scent had his head spiraling, so he was helpless but to nod down at the precious dame. "My, my, Priam, you made my boy speechless," his mama chuckled to herself, bringing another realization to his mind. Priam. He recognized that name, just barely, but it tugged and insisted upon itself to live within the walls of his mind, associating heavenly with the scent they carried.

     Their response to his mother was just to laugh along, their body pulling away fully to be led towards the dinner table, all the poise and elegance of someone who had manners instilled into them from an early age. Manners from a family who expected them to follow every whim they proposed.

     "Your kitchen is lovely, Ma'am." Alastor stumbled after the two, his politeness forcing him to grasp the back of his mother's chair, seating her before moving towards Priam, who was beyond flattered at the gesture, a happy noise leaving their pretty lips. That noise... it wasn't exactly right, was it? No, no, something was amiss about this person. Alastor pondered about this as he grasped the bowls in the same order of seating, filling each with a hefty serving of the delicious jambalaya, accompanying each with a slice of the bread from earlier. Each member at the table thanked him for the gesture, diving into the meal without another word.

     His dream skipped then, not uncommon depending on how long he had been at rest. He was now standing at his doorway with Priam at his arm, waving goodbye to his mother with promises of returning some time soon. "Al, baby, you make sure to be careful walking that sweet one. Dark nights are full of mischief. I'll keep the light on for you," his mother said as she finished the dishes Priam had insisted on helping with. Alastor nodded her way, echoing the assurance of their safety.

     "Don't worry, mama. I'll be plenty careful," he says, beginning to lead Priam away from the home, the faint sound of his mother closing the door a confirmation that he would have one less worry tonight. His eyes rolled over towards Priam, who was being bathed in the first rays of the full moon, a pretty picture if he ever dared say. "You look beautiful tonight," he said suddenly, once again catching himself off guard by how blunt he was, and how his insides felt all weird. It especially acted up when Priam beamed his way, squeezing his bicep in a sign of acceptance to the compliment.

     "Al, you say that so smoothly; you often tell people that after having dinner with them?" They raised a brow, clearly joking with him, but there was a strike of fear there, in Alastor.

     He was quick to retort. "No! Never. Not how... how I mean it here," he said, his heart hammering hard in his chest, a feeling he was vastly unfamiliar with. Where was his bravado, his suave nature? He was more than capable of manipulating, and retaining his confidant stature around anyone. How did this creature mess that up for him? In what world allowed this to occur? His darker urges bubbled from under the surface, disrupted by the sense of loss of his control. Yet, when he watched their face soften, he did his utmost to resist those urges. They were clearly an innocent little lamb--yes, lamb, that fit perfectly.

     "Oh," they breathed, turning their face forwards to avoid displaying an expression he wasn't prepared to see, but the profile he could make out was flustered embarrassment. He swiftly looked away himself, avoiding any further nudging to his monstrous urges from observing the lamb. They were able to make it all the way to the bridge that crossed into the finer parts of town, one of the places Alastor frequented during his more... carnal activities. The urge to wield an axe was overwhelming, as he knew that the judge who let a serial rapist off easy live just down the street here. He hasn't planned an opportunity to strike yet, but he figured it would only be a matter of time. "Thank you for walking me this far, I can make it from here, Al." Priam released his arm, instead grasping his hand; he immediately locked their fingers together, a vaguely comforting gesture he was sure he did with them a lot, despite still not remembering them fully. "Also, thank you for inviting me to meet your mother; she is an absolute angel," they complimented, warming his heart that his mother was adored by more than himself.

     He squeezed their palm, moving to kiss the knuckles of their hand in a caress. One peek at their expression showed the longing in their eyes, lips parting when his own made contact with their ring knuckle. "Mmm? Expecting something else, dearest?" He teased joyfully, adjusting his spectacles so he could capture every moment with glee.

     Priam's face was puffed out in a mock pout, cheeks oh-so squeezable, brows furrowed in a way that begged to be mocked. "Don't be so...! Ugh, fine. What do you want in exchange?" They asked, shy in demeanor, but firm in tone.

     Exchange? As in, a trade? That was... to his liking. Yeah, he could exchange, that was fair. Well, he didn't have to make it fair, and it would be quite funny to see their face crumble at the thought of giving more than they'd receive. "I don't give a kiss to just anyone. What would be so worthy of this rare occurrence?" He drawled as he pondered the possibilities, seeing how they gaped at his boldness. Their hand squeezed his in warming, bringing forth a bout of laughter from his chest, much to the embarrassment of the sweet Priam. He used the empty hand he had to swoop his palm under their chin, holding their jaw delicately while he observed how their eyes shined under his attention, the petals that formed their lips trembling, a far too sinful of a picture to ignore. His mama might have been right; for how his heart soared at the ghosting of their breath on his wrist, how his breath quickened when they give him such a pitiful, hopeful, trusting expression. How come now Cupid has struck him? How come here, in the most familiar of his comforting dreams, did he find himself submitting to the possibility of maybe opening himself into the realm of finding a partner. "Stay," he murmured, the pad of his thumb swiping at the corner of their lips, a natural motion to him now that his eyes were seeing rose colors.

     "Hmm?" They hummed, not able to talk too much due to their position.

     He huffed, tilting his head down, both of their eyes staring intensely at one another. "Stay with me, Priam. Submit to me, and I will fulfill to your request," he whispered, using their locked hands to bring them closer, their bodies now flush. Their docile eyes were blown wide now, taking in every single detail of his face while the fingers on their free hand played with the edge of his collar, an action that soothed him and riled him up all at one time. "Say it," he commanded breathlessly.

     "I won't leave you. I'll give up my place in heaven. I promise," they replied. Alastor grinned, entranced by how easily they followed his lead, how they clung to him just as desperately as he wanted to clutch onto them.

     As if he had done this a million times in his fantasies, Alastor captured the back of their head in his palm, tilting their head back to expose the vast stretch of flesh that made up their throat. Tantalizing, he swept his nose along the column, hearing Priam shudder a breath. Delicious. One glance to their face showed that they had their eyes closed, savoring this moment with a relaxed look that broke Alastor's will to betray that trust. Their lips ghosted near one another, an anticipated motion. He withheld from meeting the crest, the tension building to a suffocating thickness.

     A shift occurred once again.

     Alastor opened his eyes, pulling away from what he thought was Priam--and it was, but not the pretty image he had been admiring all night. No, now his clawed hands held the lifeless body of his lamb, flesh torn asunder into ribbons, shades of maroon and crimson coating the surrounding wooden field they were now in. Their throat was the worst of it all; large intentions started each peeling of the skin, clearly puncture wounds from his fangs. He could taste the divinity of their nectar, a blissful tang of copper and cloy that felt like a high he could never before achieve. His inner demon was starving, urging him to lean over their dismantled corpse to continue his feast.

     "Al...?" The choked whisper brought his gaze up, and up, past the images of bones, of barely beating organs that were sliding out of place, just barely meeting the already fading coherent state they were giving him. "You promised," they whispered, gurgles tainting their sweet tone as the blood choked up from their throat, a splatter of red leaving their lips with each syllable. Alastor's own breathing began to pick up, realizing the reality for that it was. He brought what was still intact of their form in close, hushing the lamb as he stroked one of their cute flicking ears with a knuckle. "Al--" they hacked just then, the overflow too much as it began to claim their undead life, suffocating their breathing with clots. He just continued his best to console them, even as spittle dribbled down his chin, and his body trembled with the duality of his agonized heart, and his bloodthirsty mind.

     Their eyes blinked once more, but it was the last time, for the light left their eyes all too suddenly, and they exhaled everything they had left in their lungs, the tears that were trailing down their cheeks now undetectable among the splatters of blood he had drawn from their open corpse. Twice now. Twice he was not strong enough to save someone so near and dear to him--from himself. It was ironic, so cruel and unbelievable that all Alastor could do was laugh. His shoulders shook with humor, his cackle loud and carrying out throughout the whispers of the trees, masking his unheard cries of sorrow as his own eyes filled with mourning, experiencing emotions he thought he had left behind long ago.

     "Al, baby. It don't have to be this way," a voice crooned out, but it was all fading quickly, too haze to even begin to figure out who was speaking to him. "I believe you can avoid this one, child. Do something good for yourself." The words drilled into his mind, escaping into the void that formed as he tried to process what they meant.

     With darkness becoming his only companion, and his gut heavy with the turmoils he experienced, Alastor decided he had enough, and opened his eyes as he awoke, exactly where he had been--at the Hazbin Hotel.

Chapter Text

     Alastor felt out of touch for the first few moments of being awake, a heavy burden of a feeling hanging low in his gut, but he couldn't recall why. Perhaps, he pondered, it was something in his dreams, but they escaped him before he had a chance to retrace the steps from his sleep. It was rare he got this sensation, only a handful of times since he graced Hell. That was the least alarming thing, however. The fact that the Radio Demon slept at all the way he did was unbelievable. Out in the open, where anyone could get a chance at him? Unheard of. He blinked the bleariness away, looking to the weight in his lap--Priam. He felt the pluck of some soft emotion inside him, a harp being played for the first time. His hand that was not enclosed in the lamb's rose briefly from its previous spot at his side. By just following his intuition, he found himself brushing his knuckles along their throat, feeling the lack of wounds with a confused mind; they wouldn't have gotten injured with him nearby, surely the smell of their blood would have alerted him into consciousness--and yet, he continued to investigate, featherlight in his touch. First was their neck, then their jawline, the side of their head, following the swipe of their forehead. Each gesture was checked thoroughly, yet no wound showed. Even the pierced places he was responsible for by his talons had healed over easily.

     The last he checked was their lips, the pad of his thumb ghosting over the bottom petal, seeing the inner chapped part due to anxious biting. That was acceptable. Their top lip was flawless, and so Alastor was satisfied, returning his hand to stroke the top of their head. His eyes checked the windows in the room, seeing between the slip of curtains that the dawn hasn't begun, and so it was quite early still. Priam had mentioned a few times that they hadn't gotten much rest since their descent into Hell, so Alastor decided it would be cruel to leave or disturb the lamb. To keep himself busy, he summoned a book, holding it firmly as he began to read silently. They made for quite the domestic picture, he realized, but the thought didn't take him aback. He stored that observation in the back of his mind for another time, focusing more on the book so the next time he saw Rosie, he could discuss this literature with her.

     Although it was still relatively early, a meeting was being held between the Princess of Hell and the southern born sinner turned Hellborn. It was planned this way, to avoid anyone interrupting or happening upon the occurrence. Charlie sat on the nearby coffee table, a cup of coffee in her hands and eyes watching Wesson as he paced the same pathway over and over. His anxiety was overwhelming, giving the Princess her own sense of unease. "You mentioned... arrangements have been made? What did you mean by that?" She gripped her mug as the imp stopped, his posture straight and his face reading an expression of determination. His boots clicked against the floor as he made his way to the seat opposite of the Princess, kicking back to hold an air of casualness despite the bouncing of his leg.

     "I found an opportunity to help the hotel deeper in the pentagram; catch is, I need to transfer there--permanently. I wanted to bring this up to you, because my contract with Miss Beelzebub is complete. I'm aware she gifted my employment to you, but in reality, I am a free man, ain't that right?" He tilted his head as he spoke, a challenge to the Princess laid before her. Will she lie? Hardly. Even with her founded confidence after the battle of the last extermination, she still abides by honesty.

     Charlie threaded her fingers, forming a combined fist that she rests atop the table, eyes focusing in on the double set of irises in each of his, seeing how they're unwavering--he was completely determined and serious. "That is true. You're free to come and go as you want; but I am curious... you seemed so happy here, especially with Priam. I kinda thought that--" she trailed off, seeing his face shift, minutely, but the change was there. Pinched brows, a squint forming in the inner corners of his eyes, the frown more upset than stern. "Has something happened? Are you wanting to get away from them?" She pried.

     "It ain't like that; I adore Priam, always have. Hell, I.... it doesn't matter. What does is that I have been inspired by them, by you all, to help out the hotel to really get things going; and I've found someone who might invest in the hotel's message, and get us some foot traffic by spreading the word much better than we ever could," he says, motioning towards the window not too far off to their left. "All they want is my assistance on some things. A favor for a favor."

     "You are pretty firm on this, aren't you?" Charlie asked, anxious now at the prospect of losing a huge help of their staff for some vague detailed 'help'. Wesson was a good man, but it looked like he was hiding things for a reason, and Charlie didn't like the unknown. When the imp nodded, confirming his fixation on leaving, Charlie just sighed with a smile, a bit put out at the change of events. "Well, then there's really nothing I can say or do to change your mind. I'm excited to see what kind of help you can provide for us. It's really kind of you to go this distance for the hotel," she says, though there was a suspicion in her mind. Wesson hasn't shown such an enthusiastic interest in aiding the mission of the hotel until the incident where he hit his head. Charlie wondered if something more occurred at that time, if Wesson was even planning on doing as he said to begin with--but only time would tell.

     "Thank you, Princess. I plan on leaving this afternoon; the sooner the better. I'll be sure to get things 'round here settled up, so it won't be too strenuous without me." He grinned as he spoke, enthusiastic now that his plans wouldn't be held up by a resisting Charlie. Surely he could do as he pleased now, but having someone with such power--and nosy tendencies--it had all the potential to ruin or withhold his intentions. He had worked too hard these past few days to just form a connection to his new home, and he was damned again if he had to wait any longer to get away from Alastor. He had to excel, to gain power so he could go toe to toe with him, or at least be strong enough to take Priam away from this place. The whole idea of redemption was laughable, anyway, but he did not want to risk losing them; he's dug through trenches throughout both his living and deceased life; now that he has something good, he refused to give it up like he had a million times over before.

     Charlie stood, offering a handshake to the imp, eyes getting a tad teary at the thought of losing another hotel member so soon after everything that had happened, but this seemed really important to him, and who was Charlie to stop someone who was so inspired? "I hope you find everything you're looking for while you're out there. Please come back and visit often; I'm sure Priam would be especially happy to see you as much as possible...." Charlie trailed off as they shook hands, noticing how the mention of the lamb made Wesson's shoulders slumped, his tail brushing the floor in a way that showed his upset at leaving their lamb resident behind. "Hey, uh... Priam does have a HellPhone now. Maybe you should consider getting their phone number, maybe you guys can still talk even if you're not here physically," she recommended, placing her hands behind her back in a polite display of patience, eyes taking in just how Wesson chuckled, his head shaking faintly, like he was fighting some thoughts coming into his brain. "Just a thought. Thank you for all that you've done, and will do, Wesson."

     "It's always been a pleasure, Princess Charlie, and thank ya for lettin' me do this," he comments, feeling the giddy apprehension of doing something completely new yet again--something way more risky and challenging, but that was his element.

     He would do anything to get that fucking Radio Demon's head on a spike.

     The light of another day was beginning to grow more intense, and the rays teased between the gaps of all the curtains that hadn't been properly closed; such curtains were in the lounge, the few beams of light making their way across the room as the seconds ticked by. Alastor was idly keeping the rays of Hellfire's light in his peripheral vision, the hand that was petting Priam's head now poised to shield their closed eyes from the light as to not disturb their slumber in such an abrupt way. There were a few more casts of the light, however, that warmed lines of their legs that peaked from under his coat that was used as a blanket. The temperature difference was no doubt something Priam had noticed, for their face began to shift, minutely so, but Alastor was intrigued. It began with their nose, a simple scrunch to show annoyance, one that smoothed out rather quickly. Eyebrows pinched once, twice, the awareness fighting with the subconscious to discard sleep for another day. Their head turned, shielding half of their face as soon as their nose made contact with his stomach, a large huff indicating a shift in their state--they were awake, barely so, but enough for their breathing pattern to change.

     "Mmph?" The sound broke from their lips, the vibration and warm air blending into the cotton of his shirt, a motion he found sort of endearing. He set his book aside for the moment, bringing his coat tighter around them to give a semblance of peace and privacy.

     "Go back to sleep, dearest lamb," he hushed, a chuckle a hair's breath away when he noticed one eyelid slowly parting, the barest sliver of their eye coming into view to peer up at him. It was a sleepy motion, one to just reconfirm what they were hearing around them. He merely offered his usual tampered smile, tempted to give them a startle just then, just to see their reaction. They mumbled something again, earning a flicker of Alastor's ears as he had not registered what they said. "Once more, doll," he encouraged, easing back into the back of the sofa, to properly release their mouth to speak freely. Their lips were a tad chapped, but still pretty, and the peek of a tongue swiping across the petals made Alastor inhale deeply, reminded once again of the anticipation of devouring the no doubt savory sweet flesh of the creature in his lap.

     He could. He could just whisk them away to a secluded spot, and feast until he finally reached that crest of pleasure from his gluttonous cravings for the utmost divine of meals--but there was something about that, something that churned his stomach and created the beginnings of a hollow hole in his chest. Then.... no longer would he get to watch as entrancing eyes wandered and reflected every little amazement in their mind. No more joyous chirps for anyone they wanted to bring attention to. Not a single breath of heart-bleeding hope, or a smile that teased and brought favorable hauntings in his mind.

     Only another set of memories that would be wiped if unattended long enough.

     "I said," they whispered, earning his gaze as they curled their shoulders, a preparation for them to stretch and rise from their position. "I shouldn't go back to sleep..... I'd be here all day. I..." they huffed a laugh, though it had more air than noise to it. They were more soft than usual, a glow wavering from how they seemed so much more relaxed than usual. "You are quite a comforting presence for me. I didn't have a single nightmare," they concluded, giving him a wistful smile before scooting to slide off the sofa, politely gathering his coat to hang it over the back of the support cushion, ever so helpful when they could be. Alastor processed what they had said without letting emotion surge forward, and instead saved it for further inspection for a later time. Instead, he just looked to the lamb, who stretched their arms over their head while they yawned, their cute little teeth not at all sharp or menacing--nothing like his own. "I'm going to get washed up, then make some breakfast. Are you planning to read?" They asked, their large irises darting between the Radio Demon and the book that sat on the armrest, waiting to be resumed.

     "Indeed. I might relocate, however. Do you require company, little lamb?"

Chapter Text

     All was still towards the dusk of the day. Alastor had departed some time after breakfast, swept away once again with Charlie to continue some plans for the hotel, and apparently, the official plans for outlining sinners with minor traits that kept them from redemption. The Princess had mentioned Priam while the prior discussion was held, but not much was said about the specifics. The lamb wondered how bad off they were, and tried to ignore the sinking in their gut at the prospect of leaving everyone so soon. Either way, it was out of their hands now, as long as Lucifer owned their soul, they had to abide by his wishes--it was the whole basis of their contract that Priam redeemed themself for a taste of freedom from their Earthy life.

     To distract themself from lamenting too much, they had went about and completed any and all chores that needed attending to. Wesson hadn't come downstairs the whole day, according to some of the residents they had seen, and the lamb just figured that he wasn't feeling well enough to try any physical activity yet. It seemed his tussle had left him a bit more injured than Priam realized--and although they felt terrible, and partially responsible in some way, their lips were sealed until further notice, and so they helped out in any way they could to show Wesson that Priam was still very much in his corner, although it did conflict with their developing friendship with Alastor. Quite a conundrum Priam had never been in before. In reality, they didn't know either party too well, and so it felt like walking on a minefield to stay safe between the two. They just hoped that when it came to Wesson, aiding him with the chores was a slight salve on the wound to his pride.

     It was just after they had completed organizing the lounge back to its tidy glory when Angel Dustin sauntered into the room, Lucifer and Husk not far behind. The two older demons had a drink in their hand, clearly having a grand time chatting about whatever it was they tended to discuss when drinking together. Angel looked rather bored of the subject, instead brightening up when he caught sight of the lamb, his arms moving to scoop the other in close, an alarmed bleat leaving their lips as soon as they registered the movement. "Heya, toots! Sorry to catch ya off guard, but boy am I glad to see you. These two are such a snores-fest! I need someone who I can understand," he whined pathetically, guiding the lamb to the very sofa they had slept on throughout the night. Both sat with not much fuss, but Lucifer and Husk grumbled as they claimed the arm chairs at the other side of the coffee table, unimpressed at the dramatics the spider displayed.

     "I'm sure it's not that bad," Priam insisted, giving Lucifer a winner's smile while their eyebrows perched to display their intrigue on the undisclosed topic of discussion. Lucifer scoffed in good humor, lips turning up as he gestured towards Husk.

     "We were just discussing the possibilities of getting ahold of some of the best nectar liquor from Beelzebub--" Lucifer began to explain, only for Angel to groan aloud, throwing himself dramatically into Priam's lap--or, as much as he could, flailing with as much flair as the seasoned actor could. The King of Hell sighed, slumping back in his seat when he realized he wouldn't get to continue to conversation, instead giving the two opposing them a stern look. Priam just waved him off with an easy going expression, peering down at Angel to soothe the spider with a simple croon and a gentle motion of smoothing back his hair repeatedly, huffing when he practically melted at the affection. He was always a touchy guy, not just for the sake of his profession, but his love language was clearly some form of physical touch, though it had to be on his terms. Priam could understand that, as they enjoyed some contact when it was of their own permission, albeit much less than what Angel would most likely want, but it was enough of a similarity that Priam could bond with the spider on that subject.

     Lucifer's bottom lip pushed out a tad further to form a pout, clearly not thrilled with the circumstances of the conversation. He was so excited at the brilliant idea he had, but it seemed that only Husk was somewhat interested in the prospect. He supposed not everyone had to share the same interests as him, but golly would it help him navigate conversations better sometimes. "Look, I like drugs and alcohol as much as the next guy, but I'm tryna be more sober herrre! This is temptation at its finest!" Angel bemoaned with flair, and although they didn't want to hurt Lucifer's feelings, Priam had to side with the spider.

     "That's very noble of you, Angel. Resisting the appeal of a finer liquor will definitely earn your points with Charlie," the lamb noted with glee, earning a curious glance from Angel, his brows set with a certain tone of realization.

     He eased himself up a tad, as to get a full view of Priam's face, invading their bubble once more in a way that was all to natural for him, but Priam leaned away a few inches, blinking to show their bewilderment at the change. "Say, speaking of resisting temptation and all that sinful stuff, you nev'a told me--why are you even here? You're as angelic as they come, so what's the deal?" The silence that followed was heavy, the pointed stares from each of the ones present made the lamb almost sweat; although Lucifer was a bit more kind, a soft expression to relay his understanding that this would be a question that had to be answered at some point. "You ain't anoth'a fallen angel like Vaggie, are ya?" Angel's face contorted to suspicion, but Priam was quick to wave that away, giving off a nervous laugh to accompany the distracted motion.

     "No, no. I came straight here after my death. Trust me, I'm not a complete purity of a person. I've... committed my fair share," they replied politely, hearing Husk scoff at the answer before throwing back another swig from his bottle. Angel hummed, seeming to be searching Priam's eyes for something, perhaps the specifics to their vague comment, or a lie to be found. It was always hard to read Angel when he got serious, but the lamb figured he was just in disbelief--a lot of the others in the hotel had a hard time picturing Priam in Hell from the start. "I stole one time.... it wasn't horrific, nothing grand," Priam began, both Angel and Husk perking up at the news. Lucifer, who had already gotten a good glimpse into their lifespan, stared on, his hands flexing on his thighs as he nervously listened. "Just a set of keys--and my mother's vehicle. I just wanted a bit of freedom. So I whisked away one night when everyone was asleep. I stayed away for a full twenty four hours. It was magical.... but after getting threats from my family about calling the cops, I came back. Like I said, not awful, but it was one of the more tame things I've done," they said, their eyes reflecting their absent minded observation of their past, their voice wistful and longing for that same high they got as soon as they drove far enough that their town disappeared in their rear view mirror.

     Angel scoffed, no sort of malicious nature in his tone as he gestured with his two sets of hands. "Well, yeah, you stole, but DUH you stole! It sounded like you did it for a good reason--is Heaven really that fucking uptight?" He seethed with annoyance, turning partway to stare at Lucifer. "Short King, what is their deal? Me, I totally get, but them?" Priam cooed towards the spider once again, patting their shoulder in comfort, and to hopefully dissuade him from prying into the subject any further; Angel had no idea what they have done to the fullest extent. They weren't proud of what they've done, not in the overall sense, but....

     "Hey, Sugar?" Priam blinked away their thoughts, focusing on the nickname they have come to know as theirs. Well, Wesson's pet name for them, that is. The others turned to eye the imp standing at the doorway to the lounge, dressed in his best clothes, a bit more modern, but still influenced by the southern part of him. His face and hair had been groomed impeccably, and Priam bet that if they were close enough, they could smell some cologne he no doubt wore to match the aesthetic he had going on. Angel Dust began chuckling mischievously, whistling towards the imp with a wiggle of his brows. The lamb ignored this action, and instead nudged the spider to move, rising to a stand themself so they could address the other properly. They wore a large grin, happy to see him moving about. Wesson shared a smile back, but this one was weaker, less enthusiastic. Priam wondered briefly what that was about, but instead ventured around the sofa.

     "Hey there, Wesson! I was looking for you earlier. Feeling okay to walk around?" Guilt bled from their heart as they continued to feign their ignorance, clasping their hands in front of themself. Wesson peered around the room, meeting the not-so-subtle intrigue of the others who stared him down.

     "I'm doing fine, Sugar, no need to fret. Y'all mind if I take Priam here for a little bit?" Angel nodded eagerly with stars in his eyes, waving the two away without another word. Husker huffed out a nonchalant answer, obviously not pressed about that in the least. Lucifer, however, had his eyes narrowed, seeing something about Wesson that no one else grasped in that moment. Priam breathed out a laugh, giving the boys a salute.

     "I'm sure they won't mind. Where to, Wes?" They allowed Wesson to offer his hand, sliding their own in his grasp, a sense of trust there that made the imp's heart hurt, but fuel his motivation at the task he has to face.

Chapter Text

     "Hmm," Alastor mumbles in absentminded observation, earning a pause from Charlie's ranting. She placed her hands upon the paperwork before her, giving a quizzical expression towards the other. Even Vaggie, who was sat not far away from her partner, looked to the Radio Demon in questioning. The looming figure was by the window, tapping his claws upon his crossed arm, eyes that were far too narrow glaring down at the scenery on the ground floor. The Princess of Hell and the fallen angel shared a long and silent conversation with their eyes, in an agreement that the demon was now distracted from the talks of possibly involving Rosie with the urging of sinners joining the hotel. Alastor seemed more distant in the past few days, more so than when he was actually off with his broadcasts. Charlie was a tad suspicious, but chalked it up to everyone had been adjusting since the attack on the hotel from last extermination. Vaggie could care less about Alastor, but with the deal hanging in the air between him and Charlie, along with the fact that he had substantial investments in the hotel, she was forced to at least have decent curiosities and venomous caution towards anything that involved him independently.

     "Hey, Al? Something the matter?" Charlie spoke softly, hesitant to disrupt the thought he may have, but the crimson coated demon simply turned from the window, dismissing the sight from before with a loft of his nose, yet he didn't move from his post. It seemed that he wanted to keep tabs on whatever he saw.

     "Nothing at all, my dear! Now, continue on your humorous proposition!" He bellowed.

     Priam took careful steps around the side of the garden, proudly admiring the flourishing flowers and shrubs that were well attended to by Vaggie, Wesson, and the shy lamb. The more sentient plants bowed to follow the energy both sinners produced, little noises leaving their petals. Wesson was ever so gentle as he led Priam away, to the less visited parts of the courtyard in hopes that the residents didn't scramble to the windows to watch them. He wanted this to be personal, private, and secret. The conversation hopefully won't leave just the two of them, or at least, some aspects wouldn't. He was gambling on Priam's loyalty, but he cared about them enough to try. "Right here, Sugar. This should be fine." He blew out a long breath, releasing their hand to place both of his upon his hip, heart racing in his chest as he observed the lamb, his pulse sped up purely by how glowing they were in the rays of light. Ever as polite, they waited without further words, fingers twiddling in a show of nerves. Wesson was tempted to hold their hands, to smooth their anxiety with swipes of his thumb--but this talk would need that later. He had to focus.

     His throat cleared--one of his own nervous habits, before he began his speech of sorts. "Sugar, listen. I..." he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he thought out how to say everything in his mind as calmly and charmingly as possible. The lamb waited, anxiety shivering off their frame as each second passed. "I have enjoyed every second of the time we shared here. I know it hasn't been very long, but I am still proud to say that I've come to know you, and adore every bit of what you've had to offer this hotel, as a guest, and the occasional helping hand to the helping hand," he chuckled, seeing how their lips quirked to share his amusement. Wanting to ride that wave before it crashed ashore, he continued on. "You're real funny, and you've got this--this untouchable purity to you that being in Hell can't seem to touch. It leaves me in awe every time I see you hang around us--any of us. No matter how much blow, or alcohol, or temptation you're offered, you still... you just have this glow about you."

     Priam was becoming flustered under the praise, their ears wiggling to show just how bashful they had become. "I treasure the friendship we have formed.... and that's why I figured it was only appropriate to tell you first out of the gang--minus Miss Charlie, of course," he said with a following inhale, fingers itching to grab their hand to steady himself. "I'm leaving the hotel," his words were final, solid, real as they hit Priam's ears. For a few moments, there was the tension of silence, the imp watching every move, or lack there of, of the lamb. The shivering had stopped, the nervous fingers had stilled their wiggling.

     There was nothing but surprised denial in their eyes, the petals of their lips forming pleading, confused half-words. "What.... leaving the... but... Wes--" They fumbled, knuckles raising to their mouth as their eyes flickered this way and that, trying to make sense of a situation they hadn't seen coming. Wesson released a heavy gust of air from his lungs, stepping a tad closer to form a private bubble between the two, earning Priam's worried gaze. Wesson's hand rose, delicately petting along the wispy edges of their hair, no doubt tickling the soft fur of their ears with each strokes

     "Sugar--I have to do this," he began, tone dropping to a whisper. The lamb's bottom lip began to tremble, and the imp felt lower than the dirt beneath their feet. "Trust me, Priam. You know I wouldn't do anything without a reason. I'm worried about you--about everything happenin' to you. We both know what happened to me wasn't no accident." Priam bit their lip, eyebrows furrowed. "We're both in danger here; as long as that demon has the Princess as his voucher. I can't getcha out now, but I'm going to find a way. I think... if I'm not in his way, he may calm down when it comes to you." Wesson cupped Priam's cheeks tenderly, his hold showing just how delicately he regarded the other. "You have the protection of the Magne family so long as you play by their rules, but I need to leave. I don't got that safety promised," he explained, his eye contact intense enough to stun Priam into prolonged silence, their hands shakily reaching up to grasp his wrists, their stare alone begging for the impossible.

     "But... you're the closest thing to a best friend I have here," they whispered, broken and disbelieving what was occurring. "Wes... you're really leaving? Because of me? Wes, you don't have to do that! There's nothing--" Wesson silenced Priam, his thumb pressed against their lips to prevent a tempted lie from being spoken.

     Too pure, they had to remain so.

     "Sssh," he hushed, all honey-glazed tone and enamored eyes focused on the lamb. "Don't say that, Sugar. I ain't no fool. There's something going on, and I wouldn't feel right if I let anything happen to you... no, not to you. Don't you see? You're the one good thing in this whole damn realm, and I refuse to let that be taken away, or corrupted. I'll find a way. I'll get you away from him, from anyone who could try and hurt you. I just need you to be strong for me, to wait for me. Can you do that? Can you let me do this? I may not be able to move Heaven and Earth, but I will overturn every bit of Hell that I can to keep you from the damnation here." He spoke each word like a promise, drilling into Priam's head just how serious he was with this. "I feel a purpose now, and it's calling me away from the hotel, for now. I just needed to let you know... and to know for myself, that you'll be okay." His hands slipped, entangling Priam's hands within his own, cradling them close to his chest. He inhaled deeply, peering into Priam's eyes as the first tear fell from their lash line.

     He made no move to wipe it away.

     "Sugar--" he started once more, pleading now. "Tell me. Tell me so I can go. I can't leave until I know you'll do the most to keep yourself safe." He raised Priam's hands, pressing their knuckles to his lips with a shuttered exhale. "I need you to be safe."

     The lamb hiccuped, blinking rapidly to clear their vision somewhat. They tried to be understanding--they really did, but none of this was making sense. Why did he have to leave to do all of this? Priam never asked to be saved, not like this. They were sure that they could at least request Alastor to leave the imp alone, but there was always the chance he wouldn't listen.

     Who was Priam, anyway, to tell people to stay, to tell people they couldn't leave them? The abandonment issues were revealing themself, eating away at any security they had in how their life would stay. Why on Earth did they expect that everything could return back to normal after the fight between the two? "Priam," Wesson urged.

     "Okay!" Priam snapped, betrayal swirling in the cocktail of emotions, panic and anxiety accompanying as chasers, the shift of their normality erupting their delicate emotions tenfold. "I promise! I'll be good, I'll stay out of trouble--just--just--" they whimpered, swallowing down whatever threatened to bubble up. Why did things have to go this way? "Just--just--" they repeated, hands trembling in his grasp. Why couldn't they get it out? Why couldn't they be strong when they most needed it? When their life was threatened, all they could do was cry and plead, and now, when someone so important to their life in Hell was abandoning them, they couldn't even summon a request, a bargain to be formed. Speechless, once again, in the face of someone who held power over Priam. First, their family, then, Alastor, and now.... "Wes," they keened, hoping, praying that he would understand.

     "When you say my name like that," he chuckles brokenly, "it makes it harder for me to resist you. You better get back into the hotel. Go on, before I do something stupid," he commanded with the force of a comforting lover. His hands released their grasp, and Priam hiccuped once more, this time out of fear. He was really leaving them. Possibly for good.

     "Wes--!"

     Wesson shook his head, understanding the worry from his lamb. "I'll come back to you. I swear..." his eyes scanned over Priam's face, a deep exhale shakily leaving his lips. "Damn it," he whispered to himself, losing to his sheer will as he approached Priam's personal space. It was smooth, fluid, with the speed of someone who was on a mission, who threw their caution to the wind in order to accomplish putting a sudden thought to action.

     "I love you. I love you so fucking much, Priam." Those words deafened Priam's ears, even though they were hissed against their lips, sealed there by a mere press from Wesson's own mouth. The kiss held some pressure, some warmth, a tang of sorrow. It was overwhelming. It caught Priam completely off guard, as did the confession. How did he come to love Priam? Could that even happen? How was he so sure? There was no physical contact between the two aside from their mouths, and so Priam was a bit lost. Wouldn't he be holding them close? Was this just a balm to soothe his leave? It hurt, no matter how nice it felt for the first few seconds--it stung, just another accessory to the package of Wesson's departure.

     A sharp, loud noise finally registered to Priam as Wesson jerked back, his gaze sharp as he tilted his head, searching for something along the hotel walls. Priam took that moment to press a hand to their mouth, shocked and aching. After such a monumental statement and action, he was completely transfixed by something else? Did he realize what he just did?

     Priam, if asked any time after they had ran back into the hotel, escaping to the safety of the elevator so they may hide away in their room, they would have apologetically said that Wesson hadn't deserved the slap they delivered just moments after his bold kiss. In the moment, however, it had felt justified. A punishment fitting for someone who was giving Priam one of the more tougher emotional rollercoasters they've experienced in their life. They didn't stay after their palm connected with Wesson's cheek, didn't want to experience whatever he had planned to pull on the lamb. "Not you too--that's so mean," they had said to the air, flashbacks of their family's lies coated by love roaming to the forefront of their brain.

     Every single bad thing that happened was out of "love" for Priam. Love was only ever the plus one to misery, abuse, and deceit. Priam had enough.

     They stormed inside the hotel, ignoring the concern call outs of their name from the three that had not-so-subtly waiting by the front door. They didn't stop, not until their door was slammed shut and they had climbed into the deepest part of their closet, curling up in the safest position they were accustomed to. There, in the privacy of their own solitary confinement, they wailed into their knees.

Chapter Text

     Time had passed slowly, more so than Priam ever expected it to, considering the circumstances. They had to admit, that with their self isolation after everything that happened with Wesson--they needed to put things into a realistic perspective, and act accordingly for their own self preservation. Sure, they were safer here than anywhere in Hell, but Husk's words kept echoing by through the lamb's mind.

     They were not completely untouched from danger.

     As to not raise much concern, Priam played normal as much as typical day to day life went; they picked up most of the chores Wesson used to do, kept chatty, passing conversations with the residents and staff, and managed to passively smile during the tea times Alastor conducted. It was a tad bit exhausting, but Priam hardly had an outlet; Lucifer was gone more often than not now due to some occurrences in the other rings, and Charlie just wasn't someone one could vent to, not unless one wanted their business aired out to everyone.

     Priam didn't want to burden anyone with their frustrations and confusion concerning Wesson--who hasn't reached out at all since that day, and it had been weeks now. The only person who even mentioned the imp was Angel, and he merely touched on the subject with concern, leading Priam to believe he knew more about Wesson's feelings than they realized. Still, they couldn't just spill the occurrence to Angel... they were friends, sure, but not super close friends! Priam was beside themself in this, and just decided to keep things quiet for now, to process and protect themself from any further happenings.

     "Alright, dearest, now that's quite enough," Alastor's voice cut through Priam's thoughts, startling the lamb into clattering their teacup, a bleat leaving their lips as the tea sloshed dangerously close to the rim, threatening a spill if any further jostling occurred. Their eyes raised, meeting the passive stare of the demon in scarlet, expression hauntingly amused, despite the blank stare he trained on the lamb. "There you are," he murmured, much softer as he brought his own cup to his lips, sipping idly at whatever his drink of choice was. Priam simply knew he poured it from a different pot, and wasn't willing to inquire about it. "You've been more distant than usual--aside from your attempt at healing your wounds alone, you've now been missing our time together to instead be tossed about in that head of yours," he said with a heavy sigh punctuating his sentence, the impression of disappointment making Priam panic.

     They shook their head stubbornly, hands motioning to the spread between them. "No, no! I'm here, I swear--I just..." There must be a power Alastor had, one that peered into someone's soul and made them want to never attempt to tell a lie. Priam swallowed dryly, fingers tapping on the table's surface. Their tongue swept across their lips, wetting the surface of the petals before they attempted to speak again. "I just have a lot on my mind. Charlie has been giving me tasks lately, ones that she says will aid in my path to redemption. Sweet as it is.... I just don't find myself motivated to do them at the moment," Priam explains, dodging the biggest reason for their preoccupied mind. It wasn't a lie, and if Wesson's actions hadn't disturbed their mind, then their pathway to Heaven would have been at the forefront of their thoughts.

     An unconvinced hum vibrated from Alastor's throat, ever the critical eye trained on Priam as he took another generous sip from his cup. "I see," he relented, the silence stretching on for just enough time to make Priam uncomfortable. They dipped their gaze towards their hands folded upon the table, anxiety bubbling to the surface. What if... what if they told Alastor what happened? What would he do? He has been a person of solace, somewhat, and this was just another thing he could possibly aid the lamb in.

     "Alastor--" they began, biting their lip when their gaze met his, a spark of something sending shivers down their spine. It seemed he was anticipating the lamb cracking at some point. No time like the present, then. "I... it's not just about the whole... redemption thing," they murmured, both of the sinners never breaking away from the stare down. Alastor set his teacup down, resting his elbows upon the table, hands folded in front of him. There was a tension forming, one the lamb could taste held a hint of hostility--though they recognized it as not towards them--but from maybe... "You know... you know the day Wesson left?" Even saying his name was hard. Priam grimaced, a weight settling in their chest as flashbacks from the kiss appeared before their eyes.

     Alastor hummed, his eyes narrowing just a tad. "Well... when he... he had, um, asked me to come speak with him in private. I, I d-didn't know at the time, but..." They swallowed, gathering their courage to finally tell someone what has been plaguing them. "He confessed his love for me, and then just... forced me to kiss him. It was--I just. I feel--" Priam's eyes watered, their hands slapping over their face to hide their vulnerability. Alastor's expression didn't change, only a twitch of his fingers indicated any sort of reaction. The lamb's hushed whimpers plucked at his heart strings, making the demon rise from his chair, moving around the table to kneel before his lamb, scanning over them slowly, analyzing every movement. Achingly slow, as to not startle such a delicate creature, the demon in red grazed the back of his index knuckle over Priam's wrist on their left arm. Another shudder followed from his guest, but just as cautiously as his touch, Priam unveiled their eyes, the shine of unshed tears forming mixed emotions--both sinister delight, and a wrath like no other.

     "May I have your hand, little lamb?" He questioned, tone softer than a brush of a feather. Without a single hint of doubt, Priam wiped their eyes with their right palm, offering the left to the Radio Demon. In a practiced and perfected movement, their hands touched, palms sliding to lock against one another's, fingers intertwining to begin the swaying motion they have done time and time again. The lamb left out a single hiccup, their lips twitching, a threat to smile despite their stress.

     "There you are," Alastor said, softer than before, bringing their hands close to his face, leaning his cheek against the back of their hand, peering up to the other in what one could mistake as a romantic act of submission. Or adoration.

     But that was silly.

     "That is consent," he said, turning his face to brush his nose against their hand, inhaling their scent with a hum. "Consent is supposed to be confirmed before ever doing any sort of action to another--whether it be a high five, an embrace, or a kiss." At the last word, his eyes caught Priam's. The lamb watched, feeling as if Alastor was asking something of them. In that moment, Priam trusted Alastor more than anyone in the hotel. A simple nod of their head, and Alastor was bestowing a kiss to their knuckles, earning a surprised blink, their lips parting from a soundless gasp. Why did their face feel warm? Embarrassment, it had to be embarrassment. "See, sweetheart? It wasn't so scary with consent. That is what he should have done--not forced you into his psychotic delusion of a romantic happy ending." He huffed, moving to stand, hovering over the lamb with his impressive height. Priam stared up at him, noticing how he paused, a thought crossing his mind. His free hand came up, offering his palm to the lamb's face. Shyly, they slid their cheek into his hand, one eye squinting closed as his clawed thumb brushed on the apple of their cheek. They shared another look, one of bated tension, though less charged with energy, and more peaceful.

     "May I kiss you, Priam?" Alastor whispered.

Chapter Text

33

     The day Wesson forced his misguided infatuation onto Priam, Alastor had experienced a rage he hadn't experienced in a long, long time. It had started deep in his chest, unfurling like a well fed fire throughout his entire body. His hands shook, needing to tear flesh--his teeth gnashed, wanting to feast on blood spilt fresh. The thunderous shriek of a territorial stag pierced the air, enough to startle Vaggie and Charlie. The nearby windows trembled with threats of shattering. They were momentarily blinded by darkness, the lights cutting out from the sheer animosity Alastor held. "Alastor--what the hell!?" Vaggie roared, less worried and more furious towards their hotelier. Her partner, however, held a more cautious tone, eyebrows lifted in tender concern.

     "Alastor?" She asked, watching the green, glowing symbols associated with him begin to form upon any available space, his dial-formed eyes unblinking.

     It took a few moments for him to speak, the silent pungent with suspense while the two opposing him waited, tensely anxious. "I have to excuse myself," he said with finality, his form melting to accompany his shadow. Vaggie's eyes never left the demon's form, watching the way the black mass on the floor quivered for a moment, then shot under the closed door--but to where?

     "That was fucking weird," Vaggie said, exhaling deeply from her entire body, head tossing back to show her relaxed state now that Alastor was out of sight. Charlie bit her lip, glancing towards the window he had been stationed at moments ago. Curiosity got the better of her, and she stood, each step following bringing her to that very spot. "Charlie?" Came a pondered call from her girlfriend. The princess ignored it for a moment, her eyes scanning the scenery outside. The sky was the same shade of rose it had always been. The burning pentagram formation was still in place. There had to be something he saw, she just wasn't looking hard enough. Movement caught Charlie's attention, and brought her gaze down to see... Wesson?

     The imp had his head hanged how, posture defeated. Not even his tail was lifted; he formed quite the distraught picture. One hand of his was cradling the side of his face, while the other hung at his side. Charlie could sense the gloom that rolled off his shoulders, but surely--that couldn't have been what-- "Oh great! Now something's wrong with him, too?" The princess yelped in shock, her wide eyes taking in her girlfriend, who was posted beside her, peering down at the sight of Wesson raising his head to look in the direction of the front of the hotel, a longing air about him as he waited. One moment, then two, then five more. It was as if he was stuck in a moment of his own, hoping something would happen. "The fuck is going on with our hotel?" Vaggie mutters, sliding her hands upon her hips while she scanned every inch of the sight outside, no doubt trying to pin point the possible cause of the chaotic mood shift.

     "I don't know," Charlie said with a thoughtful expression upon her face, hair bouncing as she turned her head from side to side, not unlike a curious dog that had heard a noise they had never heard before.

   They had not a clue, but the ones who did know, would most likely not speak a word of it to them--the point proven by Wesson leaving almost immediately, and Alastor remaining out of sight for almost a week.

     The Radio Demon had not a single broadcast for nearly seven days, and Rosie was getting a bit suspicious as to why. Her friend would usually have a short snippet at the least play once a week, but he had missed that margin. The silence was unnerving, and she had not heard a word from him, either. It wasn't until one of the residents of cannibal town informed her of a ravenous murder spree occurring just outside of town did she feel as if Alastor had surfaced again. So, without much fuss, or even a quickened pace, Rosie collected her umbrella and ventured out, informing her surrounding staff that she would be back soon, and most likely with a guest.

     Blood had its own sound, as hard as it is for some to believe. You can hear it rushing in your ears, the spurt as it is pressure out of a too small wound, or even take in the sloshing as it is puddled and seeping into the ground below. Alastor was accustomed to this noise, just as he was the splintering of bones, crackling as a fire under the strength of passion, too weak to protect the vitals that were tucked behind each rib, snugly encased above to pelvic. Now those--the organs--they made the most noise. Consistent, and lasting as long as they could, even for a short handful of sections when it is severed from the main source of energy, of life. They wriggle, and beat, and pulse. Blood will leak from those, and the sound of each organ dispelling the crimson liquid made most people sick; however, Alastor had never been like most people.

     He rather enjoyed the symphony of flesh separating by their interlocked fibers, each shred like a violin note held. The spray of their gore painting his hunting grounds and body sent shivers down his spine, tingling his sore gums, urging him to keep. Going. He did, and with great enthusiasm, for long hours he hunted, and maimed, and engorged himself. Intestine bits hung from his drooling maw, skin dyed the same as the ichor from his victims' veins. He didn't dine with class, or grace, or even with utensils: no, this was pure, unfiltered instincts, the very same ones he used to depart his father from the world of the living. It wasn't hard, not for the demon who acquired more deals than years spent in Hell. His prey was always weak, for they only served to bother others, and become a meal when their luck had run out--or just a corpse, but no one would let a corpse just rot, and certainly not with a whole town of cannibals who fed into their greed with more enthusiasm as the days passed.

     His suit was ruined, not that it bothered him. He was drenched in the fullest extent his deal would allow, hollow looking limbs stretched out, clicking every time his joints moved. Jade thread kept some body parts in place, while others just moved about on their own, presenting a horrifying image of a creature who held power, who has survived long enough to look like that, and still be a threat to almost everyone. He had heard their screams, like a melody from his time alive, and they all carried the same fondness in his mind, even when he was now using his claws to squish their eyes in their sockets instead of a pocket knife. Their pleas, however, were not heard. No articulated word found meaning in Alastor's mind, just the rush of their blood, and the beating heard held just behind their paper-thin skin.

     It was while he was hunched over, sloppily chewing upon a deceased spec of what used to be a sinner, that he felt full. There was still slime from their placenta clinging to his tongue, and guts clogging under his finger nails, but he had enough. He hacked, a grunting, shrieking sound, spittle of pinks and reds stringing down his chin in a sluggish decent, thanks to the saliva he had been draining since he caught the first sniff of a morsel. His hair was caked into a crusty fashion, no doubt smelling of copper and grease. His clothing was a loss--all torn and drenched in various fluids. No inch of his skin was left unpainted, and if he had been more coherent, more himself, he would have been disgusted with how long it was going to take him to bathe everything away.

     "My, my, what do we have here?" The saccharine, amused tone finally broke through the haze Alastor had been a servant under, the snaps following the motion of his head turning, a warbled radio static accompanying Alastor's grunt of acknowledgment. Not far off, staring with blank eye sockets, was Rosie. "Now what's got you all out of sorts, Alastor?"

Chapter Text

     A photo of Priam was tenderly held like a prized possession, a thumb swiping slowly along the contours of the lamb's face, as gentle as a breeze and as loving as an admirer. The glossy form of Priam wasn't exactly looking at the camera, but rather, off to the side, as if watching something. Their face was curious, taking in information presented before them. Each detail was precious, from the lights in their eyes to the flush of their cheeks. Such a perfect, pretty picture to own.

     Except that one fucking detail.

     It was a photo from that time--a screen capture, Wesson was told, from a security camera. Apparently, the only time Priam has been out of the hotel, was when they had gone shopping with Alastor, for that tacky, misshapen, sorry excuse for a coat was clinging to Priam's shoulders, smothering them in the ill suited color of crimson. Wesson tried to ignore the blaring mockery of his affection, so pointedly reminding him who he left with his lamb. Fuckin' Alastor. That Radio Demon had everyone under his thumb, including his love, but not him. He would never submit to that freak, he would rather experience his death all over again than give Alastor any sway over him. Unfortunately, though, he did have something--someone, who did just that. "Don't worry, Sugar," he murmured as he tucked the photo into his vest, frowning at the smooth material he was fitted into.

     Whatever, if it was what helped him in the long run, he'd wear a damn sack if need be.

     Wesson exited his room, taking long strides towards the elevator, squinting at all the lights, each bright and all consuming, forcing everyone and anyone to shield their face, to deviate their eyes.

     Everything had a purpose.

     The impish sinner wasn't going to bow to anyone anymore, he was on equal footing now. His freshly formed horns displayed that, as well as the yellow that dyed his entire eyes. His body crackled with energy, and he could feel the pull of chains that he could summon at a moment's notice. It wasn't many, mind you, but it wasn't like it was all he had. He was already in line for more; easy deals that gained him more souls, more reputation, more power. He may not be on the level of his enemy, nor his coworkers, but he is well on his way. The power was nice, addicting even, with the way it buzzed through his veins, like a constant high and superiority he never had before. This ambition, it has gasoline to its flames, and Wesson would be damned if he stopped now, especially when it was so promising that he could obtain Priam through all kinds of methods.

     Like a deal.

     "Hey there, hot shot, good to see you!" A voice sang out in a welcoming tone just as Wesson exited on the top floor, perfectly on time for their meeting. The fourth seat was calling to him, and Wesson slid into it as if he had always belonged there. Three accompanying faces sneered with sharp smiles, even sharper eyes calculatingly taking in his form to suss out any weaknesses. Wesson learned every early on that it wasn't going to be tolerated to have any walls unguarded.

     "Eh, I think I'm going to change your suit color--that baby vomit green is making me want to die--again," came a groan, spiced with an accent and attitude. The imp regarded her with a tight lipped smile, knowing that she was just trying to provoke him--after all, she had him stand for hours while she came up with the "perfect" look for their "brand".

     A plume of smoke danced between the four, sticky with pheromones and thick enough to make one squint. "Heh, I still think that with those beautiful eyes of yours, you should be dripped out in gold, no? Matches the theme," a smooth Italian voice crooned, seduction and complimentary to soothe any venom his female companion had spilt. "Though, honestly, it's always good to go as you were born--nude," he cackles with lustful glee. A scoff from his two companions gave Wesson some relief--sometimes, they liked to team up to give him shit, to make him "toughen up". While he appreciated all the work they put into him, he wasn't about to become a nudist to make a statement.

     "Alright you two, can it. It's time for our meeting! We have to come together--"

     "Ooh, Voxy--"

     "SHUT IT--! Haha. Ahem. What I mean is, we all have been sourcing our work out lately, and I feel like we need to put our cards on the table, so to speak. Since our newest addition has a similar goal, albeit a little skewed on the reason, I know we can come up with something to finally--!"

     "Take down Alastor--yeah, yeah, we know your life goal is to have that Radio Demon at your feet, licking your shoes. Valentino has better porn than your imagination," Velvet yawns, earning a touched gasp from Valentino. The two giggle like school girls while Wesson observes Vox short circuiting from his temper. In his time with the Vs, he has learned that each sinner has a short fuse, but about different things. It was easy to prey on those parts of them, but usually, in Wesson's opinion, the outcome is never worth the attempt. He's seen what they do to those in their employment, and it wasn't something he was keen on experiencing. He had been lucky with his previous job, and the fact he's been around Alastor plenty, Vox was all to giddy to have Wesson on board, though they all made it clear in their own terms that Wesson had to earn his way into their circle.

     Valentino produced a paper from Satan knows where, slapping it onto the table with all the smugness of a dog wanting a reward. "Well, for one t'ing, I happened to finally get ahold of this little paper, and the tramp who had it. Can you believe they were actually considering holing up in that goddamn hotel? Angel is already bad enough, but if I have every whore running Chutney's way, then I'll be out of business," he said, not bothering to remember Charlie's actual name. The three other members leaned in close, observing the professionally typed advertisement, with unfortunate quality of rainbow drawings covering the edges of the paper. There were crumbs still clinging to the paper.

     "What the hell is this garbage, Val?" Vox asked. Wesson reached out and grabbed it, tugging the paper close without spilling the remains of what he knew was Priam's immaculate baking skills.

     "Priam's cookies," Wesson murmured in awe, fighting hard not to smile in fondness, because of course she would have helped all those weeks ago.

     A disgusted noise left Velvet, who was pulling out her cellphone to wipe around on her social media. "Great! We have jack off material for the newbie. Amazing progress. Now let me show you some real shit," Velvet boasted, slapping her phone on the table for all to see. As they leaned in close, each sinner began to grin maliciously. The post of was the princess of Hell, the other sinners piled behind her in a group selfie, minus the hotelier and the king himself. A quick blurb was written beneath the photo. "Looks like your precious little lover will be out of the hotel again soon," Vel taunted, one meticulously filed claw tapping the table by her cellphone.

    Hazbin Hotel presents: our first ever Sinner Fair! Come join us on Scorned Ave. for some treats, games, and a speech given by some of the hotel's biggest supporters!

Chapter Text

"Kiss...? Me?" Priam asked, purely dumbfounded by the question posed to them by the fierce demon positioned above them, his straight posture and winding arms making the lamb feel invisible to the outside world. Their eyes took in Alastor's still face, as if he had just asked for the time, or the weather--and not something that definitely broke the lines of friendship, not to mention, catching Priam at a moment of vulnerability. The silence stretched on, with only the faint buzzing of radio static to ground Priam that this was, indeed, real. Alastor had asked if he could kiss them. Now, he was waiting for their answer, and, well--they didn't know how to respond. Their lips curled in, a nervous habit no doubt picked up from someone at some point, their eyes dipping to look anywhere but at the scarlet dressed demon.

     "Ah, ah, my dearest lamb. My eyes are up here. You need not fear me; I was simply offering an alternative experience to your previous one--though I am not him by any means. This is not a confession of infatuation, just a boon of sorts." Alastor spoke with a glaze of comfort, though his tone hadn't departed too far from casualness. The thumb he had been using to caress their cheek shifted as his hand readjusted, now guiding Priam's chin to tilt up. The pad of his thumb now found a home gliding along the bottom outline of their lip, a sharp talon providing a tingly sensation upon their labium inferius. "You may reject me, sweetheart. I am not like him; your opinion, your choices--they matter," he soothed in hushed whispers.

     Priam's breath caught, their eyes widened at his words. They... they never heard that before. Their words... they meant something? They were valid? Alastor saw them as them, and not what they offered? Not what they were here for? It was true, that Alastor never pushed Priam one way or another; he didn't insist they stay in Hell, nor did they shove them into the light and prospect of redemption. No, he just--

     He threatened to eat them.

     But--he also said he couldn't, because Priam had something he couldn't understand, but he wanted. Maybe it was the bond they were forming? Did Alastor even have any true friends? Priam didn't, not really. They felt misunderstood by almost everyone around them, sensed the looks of judgement, of expectation. It was no different than when they were alive. Yet here was Alastor, giving Priam a choice .

     They cleared their throat, waiting to Alastor to move his thumb before they spoke. "I... thank you, Alastor. I appreciate you giving me my freedom to choose," they said quietly, too scared to break the dream-like situation they were in. Alastor's eyes squinted, their ever present smile seeming more genuine now. "Can I stand?" They didn't even have to finish the question, Alastor separated from their formed bubble, hands clasped behind his back to form a gentlemanly statue. The lamb rose from their chair, smoothing out the front of their outfit--one Alastor had bought them, they realized.

     Alastor has always been supporting Priam, just not in the same way every time.

     Priam looked up to Alastor's impressive height with a renewed impression of the other. For the terrifying experience it was, albeit temporarily, to be hunted by the Radio Demon, his actions had made it all seem minute in comparison. Their deal, his attentiveness to Priam's health and sleep, the protective nature he tried to hide even to them. It was all clicking into place, and the lamb just never realized it. Even if it was unbeknownst to him--Alastor cared. He cared about Priam. Either that or this was truly a long con just for the lamb to end up on a dinner plate.

     Either way, it was Priam's choice on what to do, which direction to go from here. They could keep things steady, retain the friendship as professionally as possible. Would the kiss bring them closer? Would it even mean anything at all?

     There was only one way to find out.

     "You are truly my best friend, Alastor," they confessed, stepping forwards in quick succession. The demon hadn't a chance to blink at those words before his closed mouth smile was greeted by the plush, warm, smooth texture of Priam's lips, a wave of... something over coming him. His face was soon cradled with care comparable to his mother, and it filled him with wanting, with selfish, all consuming hunger .

     It was chaste at first, just a lock of a connection. Both persons experienced a rush of their pulse, emotions flaring and mixing with their own respectable thoughts. Priam was bathed with trust, compassion, and joy. Alastor's was possessive, protective, and beastly. His hands finally decided to function, springing to action in an unsuspecting way; he captured Priam's lower back in a looped hug, tugging them close enough to be blanketed by his stature. He wanted, no, needed them to be focused on him, to need him close, and he needed a goddamn taste.

     His shadow hissed words into his ear, the darker thoughts plaguing his mind while he tilted his head, deepening their kiss into something more intimate, more meaningful. Priam's throat released a sound--so precious, so gentle. So fragile. They could break, he reminded himself, and that wouldn't do.

     Flashes of red invaded his mind, of collapsed lungs and choked garbles of words from his lamb's mouth. The way he cradled their husk of a body as their final breath escaped. If that happened, then Priam would never wake again, and Alastor would no doubt be left with a satiated stomach, but a mysterious hallow spot in his life. Whether he liked it, or despised it, Priam had something he wished to possess and keep in his life, and so, he had to act accordingly.

     Priam's body was tilting back at the intensity of the energy that crackled in the room. The air was thick, and Alastor seemed to be inhaling their scent while his lips plucked Priam's own, the kiss going far past just one. The lamb's stomach swooped, anxiety going to war with their elation at being able to choose, although Alastor's enthusiasm began to get slightly worrisome. "Hhmph!" Priam whined at the tightened grip Alastor had on their hips, better to keep them in place. The blaring sirens in their mind kicked in then, realizing they may be in a dangerous position, because even though they doubt Alastor would hurt them, they did not wish to wave a steak in a starving wolf's face. He was sampling them, each kiss no doubt giving the demon a taste of their energy, of their flesh; a feel of the blood under their skin, of their pulsing heart.

     It was when a tongue swiped along Priam's lips did they both react. The table they had sat at before clattered with disturbed dishes as the lamb threw themself back, bumping into the edge of the surface as their hands locked into the surface; eyes wide, they took in the sight before them, stunned silence once again purging into the room.

     Alastor was panting, the back of his wrist positioned uncomfortably over his mouth, the corners of his smile trembling with the rest of his body. He gulped aloud, taking another step back from them, flushed face turning away in an attempt to school his expression. It was tense, the unknown and uncertainty plaguing them both as they tried to grasp what exactly just happened.

     "I'm sorry," the two said at once, eyes locking into one another.

     Priam was faster than Alastor, who was still quite frazzled. " I'm sorry! I tempted your predator side, didn't I? I knew you wanted to eat me, and I pushed that anyway! I'm so sorry--!" They felt shame cascade like ice in their veins, devastated that their friendship was now in tatters.

     "No, no, my dearest, you did nothing wrong." He stated, no room for argument to be had. He took away his arm that was guarding him from the other, sucking in air passed his teeth to collect himself. "It is I who needed to be more in control; I let myself go too far. Forgive me."

     Priam shyly approached Alastor again, the demon apprehensive in his posture, but he offered his hand nonetheless when they reached for his. Their interlocked hands swayed, the unknowingly formed coping motion soothing to the lamb and the demon. "How about we forgive each other?" They started, squeezing his hand to assure him they were okay. "I still see you as my best friend--and I hope I can become one of yours. Thank you for trying to erase what Wesson had done--but I don't think I will get over it so easily.... what we did though, it was kind of nice," they admitted, a small smile peeking from their meek expression.

     "It was," Alastor agreed, squeezing their hand in return.

Chapter Text

     "Priam... is there something wrong?" Charlie posed the question when there was a pause in their Redemption Session. They had considerable progress, there were plans to approach each sin the lamb had committed, and the ways to try and rectify those to turn into a virtue instead. Charlie had real hopes for Priam, who seemed like the severity of their crimes were hardly worth the damnation. She worried the other was getting cold feet, the stress of the unknown too much for the lamb to handle. It was understandable; they had known nothing but the hotel, barely a glimpse into the reality of Hell. All the friends they formed solely existed in the hotel--to uproot all of that for Heaven, it would terrify anyone to a degree. Charlie was certain, however, that redemption was the answer for the sinners. It had to be! Otherwise, they could suffer at the hands of their soul being demolished, or the struggle to survive as Hell becomes more and more populated.

     Looking into the eyes of Priam, Charlie knew she'd never forgive herself if the light ever left the lamb's eyes.

     The docile sinner stared down at their hands within their lap, a pinch to their brows to display the theme of the thoughts that clogged their cranium. Charlie patently waited, even though anxiety and the awkward silence dragged on far too much for the princess's liking. "I just," Priam began, flinching when Charlie leaned forward on her chair, getting into the other's personal space. ".... uh, I just feel very unmotivated today, Charlie. Sorry," they said. Dark eyes blinked at them, perplexity flowing onto Charlie's face.

     "Unmotivated? Do you, like, need a bigger reason to go to Heaven than what we've told you? Common Priam! This is really, really important!" To you , Priam thought, but then back tracked with shock at their sudden sassy remark. Even if it wasn't said aloud, it was still so out of character for them. Did they truly feel so resentful to Charlie, who was just trying to help them? Or... was it even help? Priam doesn't remember ever telling Lucifer's daughter they despaired to go to Heaven, it was all the princess's idea, her whole motivation for the hotel. It was a noble cause, but this place was also hosting many sinners who did not believe in redemption. Was Charlie pushing Priam so hard because they were so easy to give in, unlike the others who had been in Hell for much longer? The lamb felt their gut sink, a mix of shame and annoyance battling for victory over their thoughts. On one hand, Charlie had no right to push her beliefs and dreams upon Priam so insistently, but on the other, this was what the lamb believed to be apart of their deal with Lucifer. They never thought to ask about the specifications that entails their agreement, but maybe now was time...

     "I'm sorry, Charlie, but is Lucifer here? I really need to speak with him," Priam said, rising to a stand before the princess. When Charlie confirmed, the lamb turned and moved towards the doors of the room, discarding the sputtering and questions thrown at their back. They didn't have time to explain themself to the princess right now--they had more important things to seek out.

     Lucifer was where he always resided; his room, tinkering with various art mediums, but one thing tended to stay consistent; apples and ducks. Priam thought it funny, for he was the one who resembled the creature, and yet, he was nothing like a duck; however, there was such a strong connection there, an admiration of sorts. "Lucifer?" Priam called for him from the doorway, watching his back straighten as he looked over his shoulder, eyes processing who stood before him. Once the recognition hit, a smile stretched into view, the clear excitement sparkling in his eyes.

     "My duckling! Common over here, kiddo. I want you to see this!" The lamb took careful steps, ensuring not to step on a single paper, to nudge a figurine or two, and especially not tumble over the chests full of art supplies that were haphazardly placed about.  "I was just completing something I thought was my biggest breakthrough yet! I'd love your opinion. Look, look! It's a QUCKAPHONE!" He grinned as he unveiled the megaphone, which was adorned to look like a duck's mouth. "I figured Charlie could use it to talk to large groups. It's better to be heard than seen, sometimes, and this baby can reach people all over! I bet you think this is amazing, haaa?" His eyebrows wiggled at the lamb, earning charmed bouts of laughter. "Here, check it out!" He placed the device into Priam's hands, kicking his legs with glee.

     "This is brilliant, I'm sure Charlie will be over the moon," Priam said, fingers running along the duck's bill. "Hey, Lucifer?"

     "Hmm? What can I do for my kiddo?" Priam reeled back a moment, noticing how Lucifer didn't stumble, or fluster. He was just sitting there, honesty soaking up his face--he really has taken Priam into his family? That was... so sweet. Priam was touched, looking into those caring, earnest eyes. "Priam? Duckling?"

     "Ah, sorry! I was just... I was thinking the other day, about our deal." Lucifer raised his hand, the gold chain appearing between his class fingers, winding all the way to the latch laid around Priam's throat. He traced the chain with care, inspecting each notch without much thought behind it--a motion that Priam figured soothed him in some way, though how, they had not a clue.

     "Oh, this old thing?" Old? Time truly meant nothing to an immortal creature. The lamb nodded, picking up on how Lucifer's attention was no longer on the representation of the bond between them, but now their finger--the very same one that held the deal between Alastor and themself. Could he see it?

     "Yeah, that. I was wondering... what were the contents of our deal, anyway? You promised me my freedom, saved me from my family, and hid my name from others who would take advantage of it down here, but... what did I trade? I don't remember us speaking anything about it. Did we? Or was that... before?" Lucifer's face saddened at the mention of their death, his hand clutching the chain momentarily before releasing it, the tether disappearing in a burst of light. The weight of their collar lifted with the rest, sparkled and flickers of gold tones floating between them until they blinked out of existence. Lucifer was such a showy creature, even when perturbed by something.

     He smacked his lips together in a delicate popping noise, eyes flickering this way and that, as if searching through his memory like pages from a book. "It was before," he spoke, the statement bled uncomfortable sadness. His soot dusted hands reached out to Priam, cradling the sides of their neck with a much more tender way that he had that day. Still, the warmth of his palms, and the memory of their death that brought them here, Priam flinched without a single thought to hide it. That was no doubt a trauma response, but it made Lucifer crease his brows all the same. "Just before, in fact. The words barely left your lips of agreement. I was hasty, my excitement of Charlie's response to you outweighing my consideration for your mental state. I'm not going to lie, Duckling, it crosses my mind more often than not; but it's done, and there's nothing I can do to change it." He settled his hands onto his thighs now, and Priam breathed a sight of relief. "As for the contents of our agreement; you gave up the opportunity of choice," he states.

     Priam's blood freezes cold. "What?" They croaked.

     Lucifer moved his hands as he explained. "I offered you freedom from your family, and protection within mine from my kingdom. In return, you gave up the choice to throw your life into tatters again. You have to make your life better; much better than it was before. Your soul--it has to become white." As he explained, his palm opened, and a weight lifted from the lamb's chest, a black and white orb free floating into the king's hand. "See how it has all of this darkness, that looks like mold? You must get rid of it." He caressed the soul, smiling down at it as if it were a child--which, in his mind, it probably was. The man was as old as time, or damn well close. Priam was no doubt an infant, if that, to him.

     "How do I do that?" They asked with hesitation, fearing the answer is what they suspected. Lucifer peered up at them through his lashes, perplexed that the other hadn't figured that out by now.

     "Well," he said, shrugging. "You have to redeem yourself--that seems to be Charlie's idea, anyway. There's no proof, but that would be the only way a sinner would be able to fix their sins." He let go of the soul, letting it circle back to its source, the tether making is rather easy to return. Priam exhaled at the weight settling again, feeling whole once more.

     "And... what if I don't?" They pried, not liking how Lucifer shifted in his seat, beginning to turn himself back to his work.

     "Hah! That's not possible. It's the basis of our deal; you have to!" His tone relayed a false bravado, full of cheer and dismissal. Priam reached over, touching his tense back with light pressure. "Priam. There's no reason to tell you what happens, because it's not going to come to that. Run along now." He didn't glance back at them this time, resuming his work on another invention. It seemed he was done with the conversation, which worried Priam all the more. They removed their touch, stepping away from the king, their gut swooping at the fear they felt. It couldn't be that bad for even Lucifer refusing to speak on it?

Chapter Text

     Priam may have not been good at hiding a lot, but when it came to the point of potentially concerning others, they were surprisingly able to keep plenty to themself. Their hesitance about their fate, the decision between redemption and damnation, it was a weight their constantly carried; it became heavier each day, avoiding the concerned stares of Charlie and Lucifer, the latter always having a guilty notch in his eyebrows. Priam performed their lessons and tasks from the princess with a passive attitude, their mind far elsewhere. Alastor was patient with them, as always, simply offering a distraction from the rest of the hotel when he was able.

     Things were getting busier with the last minute preparations, Charlie was buzzing about with Vaggie following along, reacting appropriately to whatever her girlfriend spoke about concerning the up coming Hazbin event. Priam found themself in the kitchen more often as the event got closer, assisting in the way they knew best--baking assortments of pastries and desserts for the public. Boxes upon boxes of delicious treats stacked high, Angel Dust being a delight by grabbing Nifty and the two putting together the treats in their packages.

     It was hard not to enjoy their company, the duo being a decent level of chaos and hilarity. Priam actually was able to feel some free amusement, their shoulders shaking as they laughed along. "Thanks so much for helping, you two. Why not take these? I had a few extras, and I'd love to spoil you two," they said with a gleeful smile, bringing over two clear bags stuffed with an assortment of small cookies. Angel Dust squeaked in joy as he collected his, while Nifty cackled as she made grabbing motions toward the lamb.

     "Heheh! I'm going to go show it off to Husk! Maybe we can trade," the bug lover said, jumping in place before snatching the treats, her boundless yelps of sadistic happiness fading as she zoomed from the kitchen. Angel Dust sighed with fondness, already digging into the cookies, which delighted Priam to have their treats so thoroughly enjoyed.

     While he munched on a strawberry cheesecake sort of morsel, he eyed the lamb casually, his gut bubbling with anxiety. Would bringing Wesson up after so long be a sore spot still with Priam? He had no idea what happened between the two, but he had his upsetting guesses--even though he hadn't believed the imp was like that; however, he was a Sinner to his core, and the illusion of being a Hell Born would change that.

     Angel was all too familiar with how they acted; sweet, kind, just to stab you in the back. He should've had his guard up more, shouldn't have pushed Priam into Wesson's romantic ideals. They had just seemed so cute together, it was hard to believe they wouldn't come out of it all happy--or maybe that was Angel trying to live vicariously through them.

     "Thank you, again, Angel," Priam said once more, their smile faint, but their tone genuine. The male scoffed in amusement, waving off the appreciation. "No, really. You've been amazing. I know we haven't gotten to hang out properly in awhile, but this was nice!" They moved to begin clean up, and Angel felt the need to follow, setting their sweets aside to offer his aid. "If you really don't mind," they said, beginning to gather up the dirty dishes.

     Most of their time was spent in silence, both anxious about bringing up anything too sensitive, but also just finding harmony with the quiet. The kitchen became spotless in less time than anticipated with the extra hands, and Priam couldn't be more grateful. Once it was all complete, Priam began to follow him towards the door to the dining room, chewing their lip in thought.

     It was before Angel had a chance to exit when they spoke up. "He tried to force himself on me," Priam said quietly. Angel froze, his head whipping around in disbelief. "Not in the... full way. He thinks he loves me, and he thought forcing a kiss on me would make me feel the same--but I don't. I'm scared of him, now, I think." Priam sounded unsure, their frame hunching in on themself. they began to mess with their ring finger, an anxious habit they picked up a few months ago.

     "What--" Angel whispered, his arms hesitating to reach out. No, why did it have to be like this? Angel was watching his past manifest with another, and his heart hurt. "Priam, I'm so--"

     "It's done," Priam said, shrugging their shoulders while their ears drooped. "No need for apologizes; you didn't do anything wrong. I just, I needed to process what happened. I'm sorry I have been distant. I just... wanted you to know. If he ever come back," they whispered, their hand twitching as if being tugged. Angel wanted to embrace them, to comfort them, but he unsure it would be welcomed.

     Instead, he sighed, giving the other a sad smile. "Toots, if you ever, and I mean ever, need an ear, or someone to be by your side at any time I'm not at the studio--please call me," he insisted. Priam's eyes lifted to meet the gaze of their friend, reading their expression before nodding.

     "Okay." They agreed.

     The door to the dining room opened, missing Angel by just a hair and making him yelp in shock. "There you are, sweetheart!" The warble of a radio filter had the lamb smiling immediately, stepping over to the crimson coated demon. They embrace without a moment's hesitation, the sight not lost upon Angel, whose mouth dropped open to gape at the pair. "I wondered if I might spot you today," Alastor said, pulling back from the hug to properly converse with the other.

     Priam gasped in awe, unable to stop themself from touching the sides of Alastor's head. "Your hair! Al, you cut it! It's so cute," they commented with confused intrigue, carding their fingers through the shortened strands, finding each lock to be snipped and combed into a hairstyle more befitting of his time period. "You did such a good job!"

     "Actually, a good friend of mine gave me this cut. I commend her work, it feels much better," he stated, offering his palm to the lamb, Priam filling it with their own without hesitation. "I figured it was about time I introduced you two. She's been very eager to meet you," he says, ignoring Angel Dust to pull the lamb in close to his side, tucking their arm around his as he steering the other towards the inner area of the hotel.

     "What the fuck was that!" Angel Dust exclaimed to the empty kitchen, rubbing his face as if he was dreaming.

     Priam raised a brow at their companion. "Is this person Rosie? I've heard her name a few times," they say, the feeling in their gut flourishing with a nausea wave following right after. Alastor hadn't mentioned her but twice in the whole time they've known each other, which made Priam wonder why. Was she his friend, or something a bit more... close? He never referred to her otherwise, but the lamb's anxiety refused to fully trust in that notion. After all, Alastor was deeply admired and sought after if what Husk said in passing was true, and Al was a gentleman to all women--well, except Vaggie for whatever reason. Logic always fought with nerves, and Priam was already dealing with a lot. They didn't want to ask Alastor directly, for that felt like they would be admitting something to themself, and they were unsure what that even was!

     The unknown was always so scary.

     They gulped down the hesitation, hugging closer to his side as they stepped over the threshold to the lobby, the environment bustling with activity. Priam observed Alastor through a shy glance, taking in the way he snapped his gaze here and there, no doubt analyzing what was going on, and what needed to be done. "Has Charlie asked you to come along for the event, my lamb?" Alastor asked without much indication of his opinion, but Priam wasn't particularly searching for his view on it, they knew he would abide by whatever they chose to do.

     "She mentioned it a few times. Lucifer thinks it's a bit too dangerous for me, though. They're still debating," they explained, hearing him hum. He steered them in the direction of the King of Hell, shocking the lamb. "Uh, Al? What are you about to do?"

Chapter Text

38

     The day of the Hazbin Hotel's Sinner Fair, Priam was in a bundle of nerves. They stared at their reflection, dressed in shades of burning embers and moonless nights, the clothing wrapping around their body to accentuate their fondest features. Priam fussed with their hair, made sure they were clean and smelt fine. After Alastor and Lucifer had a spat in the lobby of the hotel, Charlie intervened, and they all three came to the agreement that Priam would be fine coming along, as long as someone attended their side at all times--or at least that was the stipulation from Lucifer, which surprisingly, Alastor agreed with. Priam couldn't help but notice that Charlie didn't seem so concerned, but they chalked it up to the princess growing up surrounded by Hell's residences, not to mention she had the privilege of power, of a royal influence--her dad was Lucifer!

     Either way, Charlie was much too busy to really give any of it a second thought. Priam sighed, resting their hands upon their hips as they gave themself one last glance at the mirror before them. It was fine. They looked fine.

     "Nothing bad will happen," Priam stated, moving across their room to pick up their HellPhone, frowning at the Home Screen, which was lit up rather than blank to save battery. Nothing was out of the ordinary, so Priam chalked it up to their thumb brushing the screen when they grabbed it.

     The phone was slipped into a pocket, and off they went, taking the elevator straight to the lobby. Everyone was gathered there in their respective groups-- Husk was entertaining Angel Dust and Nifty with a few card tricks. Lucifer, Charlie, and Vaggie seemed to be having a discussion over the shared clipboard. A few other Sinners that Priam hadn't gotten the chance to really know posted up by the entrance, holding various items that were going to the event. Priam frowned, scanning the lobby once, twice, their heart sinking at the lack of scarlet. Their eyes shot down to their ring finger, massaging it idly in hopes that Alastor felt it like a message.

     "Heya Toots! There you are," Angel called, sashaying his way over with an excited smile. Priam looked up to the spider, offering a tentative smile. "We are fixing to head out, I was worried you were on lock down."

     "Nah, I was grabbing my phone. So, where exactly are we going? I've hardly been outside of the hotel," they commented softly, eyes still flickering to look around, unconsciously searching for their closest friend. Their expression paused with their thoughts, perking an eyebrow towards Angel. "Wait, on lockdown?"

     The spider waved his hand with a snicker, clearly having fun at Priam's expense. They both turned when Charlie's voice rang out, calling attention to everyone and explained they would all be leaving now.

     Priam took a deep breath, moving to find a familiar place beside Lucifer, clinging to his sleeve to alleviate some of the fear they held.

     The sky was drenched in brightly painted wisps, each shade of blood causing an ombré effect from the pentagram, all the way to the horizon. The speckles of dark framed buildings broke up the view of the ever stretching land, more modern as they made their way to the event spot. The streets were occupied, as always, with various creatures, both sinners and hell born alike. The group made sure to linger together, avoiding anything that spelled out trouble for the hotel and its reputation. Priam was especially frightened, each fire-skinned imp bringing images across their mind of Wesson. Where was he now? Would he just be roaming the street, just like these people? Was Priam ready to face him if that occurred? Their fingers tightened on the cuff of Lucifer's sleeve, finding solace in the fact that no matter what happened, they were under the protection of the king.

     They all made it to the event area without much incident, thankfully, and the ones who hadn't helped with the set up were left in awe. Various stalls were set up, from simple games to snacks of all kinds--including Priam's sweets. In the center of the arranged cul-de-sac was a makeshift stage, with a microphone on a stand, no doubt the spot where Charlie will perform, or make a speech--it was hard to tell what the princess would feel like doing at the moment. Beside the stage was a small table, some quills, and a stack of papers. It was all very organized, meticulous, and planned with every detail in mind. The route of everything will corral the sinners, guiding them to be enthralled enough to listen to the pitch of the hotel. Priam had to commend whoever actually did all of this, because there was no way it was Charlie.

     Wait, no, that was rude--

     "Wow! This looks way better than my drawings directed! Vaggie--dad, dad--look!" Charlie yanked at her father, breaking Priam's secure grasp, a bleat leaving the lamb's mouth as anxiety clutched at their throat. Lucifer was attentive as always, his neck craning for him to check on Priam while also following his birth-child's guidance, a somber expression on his face. Clearly, Charlie was in her own world, and Lucifer was nothing but an adoring father. To his actual kid .

     Priam's shoulders dropped, realizing that they were silly thinking that Lucifer would be by their side throughout the entire event. He had no obligation to, especially since this was Charlie's thing; she deserved to have her father with her, both taking in the potential thriving of the hotel. It just burned when Priam was reminded, yet again, of their place. Here, they were no one's offspring, they had no one to make them a priority. It was just them, at the end of the day, to find comfort in themself and try to make the best of their circumstance.

     "Hey, we'll see them around. Common, kid, let's check out some of the fun. I can guarantee with Charlie's redemption plans, there's nothing too violent or spicy here," Husk said, earning the attention of the lamb with a small poke to their shoulder. The lamb offered a shaky smile. It wasn't as if the feline couldn't protect them--they knew Husker was more than capable, but still....

     "Okay," they agreed, their hand reaching out, only to hesitate. There was a limit, a barrier for Priam. They didn't want to touch Husker, their touch aversion heightening around the others despite their good nature to the lamb. It was odd, being able to only feel comfortable enough around Lucifer or Alastor to initiate, and continuously engage in physical affection. It was also embarrassing, to be observed clinging to the two, but avoiding even so much as a hand brush from another guest. They supposed that there just wasn't as strong of a connection there, and as much as they told themself that it was okay to feel that way--there was an ever lingering guilt. They didn't want to offend anyone, especially those who have been so kind.

     "I wanna shoot the ducks!" Nifty's shrill voice interrupted Priam's spiraling, fond laughter leaving Husker and Angel at the antics the small maid tended to display. They began walking her towards the stalls, the lamb staying in place, watching them go with a hollowness in their chest.

     They glanced around once more, a notch in their brow forming yet again at the fruitless search continuing once more. Where was he....?

     "Oh my! Aren't you just the cutest little thing?" Priam startled, turning sharply to observe a very tall and curvaceous woman, with cropped platinum hair curling around her cheekbones. She was dressed to the nines in older formal ware, wearing similar colors, albeit much more muted, to Priam's. Her hands gently encompassed the arm of an umbrella, shielding her from the bright fires of the pentagram. Gauntly pale skin contracted from her haunting black eyes, or lack their of, Priam wasn't sure. As the woman smiled down at the lamb, a set of never ending fangs greeted them, sending off alarms in their brain and a shiver down their spine.

     They were rendered speechless, shaking like a leaf under the intimidating visage, eyes wide and lips pursed to avoid saying anything uncouth. This seemed to amuse the woman, the sides of her lips turning up higher and higher with each passing second. "Oh, don't be scared of little ol' me! I wouldn't dream of hurting such a precious creature. What's your name, honey? I'm Rosie."

Chapter Text

    "Rosie?" They echoed her, the tremors in their shoulders lessening. Is this possibly Alastor's friend? It would make sense for her to be here, to support her friend's endeavors to assist the princess of Hell. The lamb straightened their posture just a tad, the determination building in their gut to not look weak in front of her. "Nice to meet you; I'm Priam," they answered back, much to Rosie's delight. Her threatening smile widened, eyes flaring further open to accompany the expression of hysterical delight.

     She curtsied to the lamb, one that was more of a tilt of her head and the faint lift of her skirts, acknowledging the other, but not nearly as respectful as hers had been to Charlie so long ago. "You've got some manners! I'm also happy to have found you so easily. You see, Priam, I've heard next to nothing about you--and I know almost everything about this side of Hell. How about we get to know each other a bit, hmm?" There was something unsettling about her, how she drew someone in with her motherly tone and imitating the posture of concern. Whether she was being genuine or not, Priam couldn't discern; however, Alastor didn't make friends with just anyone. If Alastor trusted her, then Priam would try to.

     Priam agreed to accompany Rosie through the fair grounds and abandon the distracted trio by a game stall, noting how other sinners addressed Rosie politely as she moved with the grace of near royalty. It was humorous to a point to compare how she carried herself compared to the actual royalty of hell. While Charlie and Lucifer bled anxiety and often fumbled about, Rosie trudged forward with not a single misstep, each stride purposeful--beautiful. Priam started to feel a bit inadequate, hands beginning their nervous habit to wring their palms.

     "So, what is your story, sweetie? Alastor mentioned a little lamb had joined the hotel, but past that, I've got nothing!" Her lips formed a pout, the very same mouth that tended to spill gossip and lure others into joining her entourage for more information.

     Priam's smile was slow to form, happiness splashing into a pool of their affection for the Radio Demon--so he had talked about Priam outside of the hotel.... but not much. Still, the lamb knew Alastor lived a private life, so no insult was felt, rather than a bubble of appreciation and admiration. Rosie was his friend, and yet, he didn't divulge into Priam's person without their permission. It made them feel special.

     "I don't really have a story worth telling... I died, Charlie took me in, and I've been taking the steps ever since to live comfortably in the hotel while making Charlie's mission possible," they explained.

    Rose waved her hand at their words. "Yes, of course, sweetie--but that's what I knew already! Anyone who stays with the princess is pulled into her ideals and dreams, but I'm looking for details about you." Rosie peered at Priam with what looked like a side glance, those gaunt eyes--eyeholes?--seemed haunting, stripping the lamb from any protection they had. Their eyes wandered over their environment once more, gut dropping when they realized no one familiar was around. If Rosie was truly dangerous, then this would be the worst position the lamb could be in, especially since it seemed the woman had clear favor and influence in this situation. Why hadn't they chased after their fellow hotel guests? Why hadn't they clung to Lucifer before he could be snatched away? Why did Priam let Alastor advocate for them to come along?

     Maybe Lucifer had been right. Maybe Priam was better back at the hotel, where their naive nature wouldn't get them into trouble. Where they were back in their cage--safe, but trapped.

     "Uh... what... what details?" They inquired, debating if Rosie would find it rude for them to pull out their HellPhone. If they did, would she react calmly, or with hostility? Priam didn't think they wanted to try and find out.

    As if reading their tense posture, Rosie leaned in further, gaze heated and solidifying Priam in her place. Silence fell between the two, a predator and prey simply existing, waiting to see who would move first. Rosie seemed patient, without a doubt old enough to have gained such a skill while in Hell. Before her was a pitiful sight that almost made her feel bad; the lamb was frozen, large eyes practically bugging out of their head, ears raised to attention. Rosie gave a snort of amusement, reaching over to grasp Priam's cheek between her index finger and thumb, pinching the flesh and giving it a small tug. Priam bleated in alarm, their hands throwing up to cover their face. "Oh my! I'm sorry dear, I didn't meant to frighten you!" Rosie said, though her expression hardly gave that impression.

   "You asked what details, and honestly, sweetie, I just was curious as to your opinion of Alastor," she hummed, adjusting her umbrella to unintentionally shield her eyes in shadow, highlighting her faint cheek bones and each individual fang. Her words were particular, calculated. It was hard for Priam to fully become comfortable around her--there was just something that nudged their lamb-influenced prey instincts. Perhaps it was because Rosie was an overlord like Alastor? Priam doubted like they would find the answers from Rosie herself, for despite sounding like the chatty type, she had yet to give anything about herself except her name, choosing to instead press questions onto Priam.

     They found themself clutching at the fabric of their pants, shoulders moving into the motion of an unsure shrug. This gave Rosie momentarily pause, slowly raising a well manicured brow. "He's... he's nice, I guess," they said. No, he was wonderful . "He's been welcoming since I've turned up here. He's usually too busy to linger around the hotel for long--so, ah, I don't really know him too well." Aside from how much he craved their whole being--or at least their flesh?

     Rosie paused, head tilting this way and that, registering Priam's words to make judgment of them. Her fingers tapped the arm of her umbrella, each ting bringing a crest of tense weight to the already heavy atmosphere. Priam remained in place, unsure if they could get away or talk themself out of this. They should've just stayed home --it would've been safe! They wouldn't have had to meet Rosie, not without Alastor. He was their shield from the damnation of Hell; a safe haven in an environment of influence. The irony was not lost upon the lamb, but they were certain he cared for them, and would ensure their safety, if even for his own selfish reasons.

     The silence stretched on enough for Priam to whimper--the noise so minute, and yet, Rosie found joy when she heard the sound. Her hand reached out again, this time cupping the lamb's chin, fingers pushing slightly at their cheeks. "You are absolutely darling, do you know that? I could just eat you up!" She leaned forward once more as she spoke, all the more menacing to the other, each individual pearl of her teeth sending signals of fear and despair like rolling clouds across a once peaceful sky. Priam felt their eyes begin to sting, the sensation of hopelessness manifesting into dotted tears, forming droplets that set on the edge of their lash line, specs of dew that threaten to spill over the edge and create rivers down their face.

     What could they do?

     "A-Alastor," they croaked aloud, hiccuping as they closed their eyes, streams of their perspiration beginning their trek down the apples of their face, wetting the digits Rosie had upon them. "Alastor," they said again, a bit more panicked than before. A fireflies' glow dotted to life upon their ring finger, chartreuse wisps circling the digit, solidifying to the same a ring. Priam's vision blurred from their tears, lashes heavy with every blink. A shudder gushing from their lips, chest heaving as the panic clutches at their throat, just as pinching and threatening as Rosie's claws. They could feel the vignette at the corners of their vision manifesting, a warning of a disassociate episode on the way.

     " Alastor !"

     A crackle teased the heavy pressure in the air, distorted voices echoing from who-knows-where to make one's ears tickle. Black tentacles rushed from all sides to capture the lamb's body, encasing them while dragging their body backwards. The connection between Rosie and Priam severed, the former giggling as she set her hovering hand upon her hip, simply watching the display before her. "I think that's quite enough, Rosie. You've frightened her plenty," Alastor spoke, his clawed hands pulling him from his puddled shadow that had manifested by the lamb. With a simple snap of his fingers, and a swipe of his arms, Priam was swooped beside his figure. The inky ropes slid off of their body, disappearing into the very same darkness that Alastor had emerged from.

     The two stood opposing one another, with Alastor's head tilted down to over look his favorite hotel guest, while Rosie was staring the scene down. "Look at them; their eyes are so glazed, one would think they're intoxicated. That won't do," the Radio Demon tsked, watching the way Priam was gasping for air, pure fear coating their expression and posture. He raised his eyes towards Rosie, a disapproving notch to his brow. "What did you do?" He asked.

Chapter Text

     Rosie offered Alastor a coy smile and a slow shrug of her shoulders, teasing the other with an unbelievable act of innocence. He merely sought the truth with his gaze, keeping a palm cupping Priam's shoulder, running his hand down to their elbow, then back up again, squeezing every so often to ground the lamb. They were silent, trembling, but unfocused. "I was merely acquainting myself with your little friend, Alastor! No need to be so testy," she responded, her cool tone reflecting how she thought how simple the whole ordeal was. "They're an easily frightened thing. It's hard to believe that you keep them in your company," she said, bemused, twirling her umbrella. It was a challenge, no doubt. Rosie was the closest person in his life, someone parallel to him that could match his every step, or even advance past him. To be rivaled by someone who wasn't even a spec on Hell's radar--now that was interesting. Rosie had no intentions of romantic advancements, but she surely did have all the reason in Hell to know exactly the situation she was dealing with. Who was Priam, and what proved her capable of Alastor's fixation?

     It made her think of before, when she found Alastor frothing at the mouth, unable to cure his blinding bloodlust by himself. He had been downright nasty--gnashing teeth, spitting curses at what seemed like someone who wrong him. Rosie knew of no one who could affect Alastor like that, and yet, right after she got him settled, dotting in him by giving him her lavish bathroom to use, and even offering a haircut, he had mentioned introducing her to someone's name she had only heard once before.

     More than once, however, was significant enough to garner Rosie's attention.

     Alastor sighed through his nose. "Priam is Charlie's exceptional redemption candidate. I have been tasked with ensuring their progress by the Princess herself. That would consider them my ward," he explained through his smile, moving his hand to softly pinch their cheek. "I admit, when I planned on introducing you two, I had hoped to be present. Priam is not like us at all! Why, they've barely left the hotel since they first passed." He spoke each word with a patient pause after his comparison between the Overlords and the little lamb. Rosie's posture relaxed just so, tapping her fingers against the handle of her umbrella. She was calculating, taking note of anything that occurred, even the tender way Alastor brushed the wisps of Priam's hair from the corners of their eyes. Their lips trembled, a pathetic display of weakness. It was rather cute to Rosie, but also a source of concern.

     "Well, then let me expend my deepest apologies, little one," Rosie cooed as she stepped forward, Priam's hiccup of fear the simple response. Alastor stayed stationary beside Priam, keep firm eye contact with Rosie. "I hadn't realized you were so...." she paused, eyes sweeping between both opposing people before settling on Alastor. "Fragile." Her ever present smile took a sharper upturn, but Priam seemed to not have noticed it like Alastor had. "Let me start over. I'm Rosie, Alastor's closest confidant and an Overlord of Hell--specifically over the Cannibal Town region. We should have tea sometime." She extended her hand, manicured nails on display for Priam to eye cautiously. The soft spoken lamb peered through their lashes at Alastor, who kept his attention forward. When they didn't receive any response of acknowledgment from him, they fearfully place their hand within hers, a relaxed grip as a form of peacemaking.

     There was a few moments of tentative silence, just Rosie analyzing Priam, and Alastor observing Rosie. The crimson-coated demon was the first to speak. "Wonderful. See, Priam? Rosie is a delight!" The lamb blinked, mouth curving in disbelief. Did Alastor just speak their name--their name? Not an affectionate term, but their name??

     He then took ahold of Rosie's hand, bringing the appendage to his lips to bestow a phantom kiss upon her knuckles.

     Priam felt a swift drop in their gut, chest tightening up with a disgusting feeling they couldn't place--no. They could... and it made them curl back with pressed lips and pinched brows. Did they... truly... were they jealous? That was ridiculous--Alastor was... he was clearly raised in the days of treating women like glass, so it was no wonder he did that.

     Except he never did that with Charlie. Or Vaggie. Or Nifty. Did he also cuddle with Rosie? Did they share moments of intimate secrets and playful banter over tea? Did... did they ever kiss? Priam felt their heart rate skyrocketing, raising a hand to their chest in a useless attempt at calming their heart, to weigh it down until the pounding settled. They have had way too many close calls with the chance of a panic attack, and this was one of the worst times to let it slip. Priam closed their eyes, inhaled deeply, and forced a calm smile to their lips, opening their eyes to see Rosie giving them both a graceful curtsy after cutting them down with an indiscernible expression. Was Rosie jealous, too? Or was she upset that Priam dared to have tried to get closer to someone clearly apart of a very special place in her life?

     Priam hadn't really heard what the two spoke about, but reflecting on it, they didn't even want to know.

     The lamb felt like disappearing, slumping away and hiding while their head came up with all the reasons they were inferior compared to Rosie. "Tea sounds nice," they replied hollowly, smiling despite their fear and envy bleeding into their veins.

     Rosie apparently did not have much business to attend to, despite Charlie claiming to have her held with the event. It seemed she was just a celebrity of sorts to promote, and because of it, she could go around and do whatever she pleased until Charlie started the ending ceremony of the event. She claimed to want to investigate the things the demon princess had put together for this occasion, but had Alastor's promise of an evening dedicated to just them, leaving Priam to feel even worse as they listened to the interaction. After that bargain was made, Rosie had sauntered off with a polite wave and a wink. Priam began self loathing, morning the fact that their brain was way too selfish, too possessive of someone that wasn't even theirs.

     What did that even mean, anyway? Priam glanced beside them, observing Alastor as he took ahold of their hand, tucking it into the crook of his arm to escort them in another direction. The short, wispy bangs, newly styled, looked so delicate against his groomed eyebrows, and those drew attention to the set of jewels that formed his eyes, so intensely a shade of passion and power. A monocle circled just below one eye, adding an illusion of scholarly knowledge--which was a founded fact. The clasp of it tucked around the bridge of his nose, a slight crook there. Most would see that notch as a cosmetic imperfection, but Priam found it perfectly his, and they adored that. From there, at the very edge of his nose sloped down to a philtrum, one that tucked at the tip of his lips. Those very same lips that... kissed theirs. The thought had Priam freezing internally, a flush dousing their cheeks. They had been staring at Alastor for much too long, and now their mind replayed the ravenous set of kisses, combating their dread that they might not be the only one receiving them.

     "This way," Alastor spoke close to their ear, startling the lamb out of their heated memory. They gave a sheepish smile, turning with Alastor to swoop between some stalls, away from the chaos that was forming from attending Sinners.

     They slowed down by a tent that had been pitched for fortune telling, led by an imp. The sight of their horns and scarlet tinted flesh had Priam's eyes widening, heart beginning to race once more as flashes of Wes flooded their brain. It wasn't him, it couldn't be--but before they could have a good look, they had been swept to the back of the tent, hiding them both from view of passerby's. "My sweet lamb," Alastor cooed, removing their hand so he could tilt their chin up, thumb brushing just below their lip line with a tender swipe. Priam inhaled, momentarily forgetting their plight as soon as the butterflies in their stomach took flight. How thrilling of a feeling to be so gently handled by such a fierce man. "Are you alright?" He asked quietly, eyes flicking from the top of their head, to the beginning of their slope of their collarbone, double checking for injuries.

     A snort left Priam's nose, imitating a scoff as a playful smile stretched from their lips. "I'm okay. Thank you for saving me again," they murmured, eyelashes kissing their cheeks as they blinked, irises honing in towards their feet. There were equal parts embarrassment and mortification flowing through their veins, and facing the center of their complex feelings all wrapped up in a bright red bow was becoming too much. It seemed though that he wasn't going to allow any diversion from his attention. He tilts their head back a bit further, his own lips parting as his eyes flick down, staring pointedly at Priam's mouth. As if in a trance, he dipped his head down, his nose brushing the side of theirs, eyes fluttering to half mast. "Al..." they said, the only thing in their sight being the bloodshot skin of his eyelids.

     "May I?" He whispered, a shudder underlying his tone, but so faint that one would miss it if they were not too close. The hand at Priam's chin caressed their jawline, fingertips dragging down, along the throat before cupping the back of their neck, massaging at the base of their skull to soothe the frayed nerves Priam displayed in their posture. "... please," he murmured after, hesitant. It was a vulnerable word, and Alastor didn't do vulnerable.

     Instead of answering, Priam closed their own eyes, hands capturing Alastor's lapels for stability as their lips slid into place on top of his, hearing a quiet groan, nearly silent, leaving the antler-crowned demon. His other hand shook against Priam's back, fighting the urge to drag them closer; to absolutely devour the lamb with every clasp of their lips. There was something about kissing them that made Alastor's gut boil, his breath quicken, and his head swim. Addictive, a weakness, so precious and so dangerous all at once. He kept those thoughts in mind as he kissed them back, once for a match to their's, and another for his own selfish emotions.

     He didn't let it escalate any further, and instead gave a patient smile as Priam's eyes slid open, biting their bottom lip to school their expression. They still had a notch to their brow, a worry unsaid, and Alastor found himself actually... anxious about what they were feeling. "Don't let the outside world dull your beautiful glow, dearest," he said, so casual, yet so warm. He lightly pinched Priam's cheek, humming with amusement at the way they whined.

     They both smiled at one another, hearts racing and minds swirling as their hands connected, Alastor bringing their palm to rest on the crook of his elbow. In that moment, as they stepped away from the tint, continuing on their path, both had the same thought running through their mind;

     I can't lose you.

Chapter Text

     In the words of Vaggie, said once awhile back in reference to some chaotic event--Alastor is fucked.

     Rosie was not happy, not really. He thought Priam would be a delightful addition to Rosie's social circle; but from the way her gaze had cut down and harvested the underlying affection he showed for them, the ritzy overlord seemed to have formed her own thoughts and feelings, a resounding decision that was far from good.

     He had escorted his dear lamb back to the thick of the crowd, narrowly cutting down anyone in his way so he could have safety in numbers when it came to Priam. Sure, he could ward off and protect them--but this was hardly the time or place for any sort of confrontation to occur. Charlie had big hopes and dreams for this event, everything was so meticulously decided and forged with a lot of help from the hotel's inhabitants, including the lamb themself. The interruption would be beyond amusing, but the after math would give him a headache that rivals his back injury when he fought Adam so long ago.

     Priam had been rather amiss when Alastor mentioned going to find Rosie for their promised evening, but he had to make sure everything was at least tolerable; he would not get rid of Priam in any measure, but he also would rather not earn the ire of Rosie anymore than he may have in the past. After ensuring Husker would keep an eye on Priam with a threatening glare, he disappeared with a step into his shadow ability, almost teleporting to the familiar trace of power that only the Madam Overlord retained.

     "A very shameful thing to keep a lady waiting," Rosie spoke as he manifested his physical form. "Especially when out with another." Her stare leveled Alastor down, prodding the male sinner for any reaction. He sighed through his nose without much fuss, clearing his throat with a charming grin reaching his lips.

     "My dear," he spoke jovially, giving a faint tug on the lapels of his coat, "whatever are you meaning? Surely you're not threatened by a little lamb." He stepped alongside Rosie, the two taking a private stroll down one of the side streets harboring the selling of crafts, reaching lovingly made by a Sinner, or an imp. The secondary species had Alastor glaring, none too fond of the stark reminder they give him of the pesky Wesson, who seemed to still plague Priam despite the time that has passed.

     Rosie gives an amused expression at his comment, one brow arched towards her hairline to convey just how lunacy she thought it was. "Jealous? Oh, Alastor, how can I possibly be jealous? That creature is so, well to be frank, quite pathetic. Pretty, surely, but there's no gumption, no moxie. I could tell from a mile away they have nothing but maybe some charm." Her words were brutal, flippant, dismissive. She hardly had time to get a good read of Priam's true self, but Alastor thinks he might prefer it that way.

    Still, the insults didn't sit well with him.

     "Of course! Priam may not possess the skills of gaining contracts or power, but there is talent in being able to disarm the Magne family," he spoke, trying to divert the negative attention with a hook no one could resist, especially a gossip like Rosie.

     She took the bait, smile taking up almost all of the bottom half of her face. "Is that so? Being docile and weak does it for them, hmm?" Alastor nods along with a hum. "Well, well, well! That is some interesting information." Rosie leaned into Alastor's space, shielding them both with her umbrella from whomever may glance their way, a privacy veil for just the two. The Radio Demon's eyes rose to stare into the inky black of her eyes, seeing the chill within them. He felt a sharp tug, brows pinching in pain as his head bowed just a tad.

     Rosie giggled sadistically, her fingers playing idly with the auburn chain now rung around each digit, clenched tightly enough to keep Alastor's face turned towards the dirt. "However, I am much, much more interested in how they've managed to disarm you, my pet." Her tone stayed friendly, but the aura she posses felt as if being dumped into a bath of ice--harsh, painful, and just downright inescapable. When Alastor opened his mouth, Rosie clicked her tongue. "Now, don't try to deny it! I see through you, Alastor, and never have I seen you so out of sorts as you have been lately. You may think you've fooled everyone, but not me!" Each cheerfully spoke word was sewn with dominance, offense, conveying just how venomously Rosie felt about the circumstances. Alastor's ears flicked against his head, silently cursing himself. "I've never been against you having a pet, Alastor. Your contracts are valuable, as is your power, but remember who all of that belongs to at the end of the day. That little lamb of yours, they are disrupting what is mine, and I can't have that."

     At those words, Alastor's head was jerked upwards, Rosie's hand now at the ring of his collar, thumb gliding along the cold metal. "They are no threat, my dear," he promised, sighing in relief when Rosie made the chains and the neckband disappear, leaning away to observe his whole stature. His eyes flicked, noting that the two of them were relatively alone, with just a person or two across the walkway in discussion with some shop owners. His lungs expanded with his deep inhale, taking mere seconds to reevaluate his future actions. "When everything is said and done, I belong to the Madam. I have never strayed--" He spoke, interrupted rather quickly.

     "Not until now," she reminded, her fingers tapping the handle of the umbrella. "Do you even have a contract with them?"

     "I haven't," he continued, ignoring the damning question, "I was not lying when I said the Magne family adores them to pieces; I wouldn't doubt that if they were to bring them poison on a platter, those two would think it to be fruit juice. Putty in their hands," he redirect once again, pressing a feather light touch to one of Rosie's arms. She made a noise, indicating that she was listening. "Having Priam in our good graces is just sugar on the cream, my dear. It is yet another link to the grand plan, all in our favor." Rosie tilted her head to the side, seeming to consider all of this.

     "So you two don't have a contract, then?" She asked.

     "I have it on good word that they are already in a prior agreement." He wasn't going to mention the small deal he shared with them, especially because he didn't know someone would form two deals at the cost of one's soul and circumstances.

     "But you don't know who?" She prodded.

     "I do not," he lied, his stomach flipping at how easily the words left his lips. He better hope Rosie never finds out; she'd take it as severe disrespect, and knowing her ways, Priam would pay the price since she has this grand hypothesis that the little lamb was a huge bargaining chip for not only the Magne family. In another world, where Rosie was a more caring contractor, Alastor might have been honest from the start--told her that he found himself someone he fancied, someone he wanted to bring into their circle, someone who has the sole potential to capture his heart, and flourish it until he is bending at the knee, promising forever with fancier words and even fancier actions.

     But this is Hell, and Alastor is under no other impression. Rosie is the ruthless overlord through and through, and the sinner bathed in tones of ember and blood is helpless to her whims.

     He still regrets making a deal with her all those years ago, but more so now than ever--because back then, he didn't have much to risk. Now, however, is much worse. Flashes of Priam's innocent large eyes, their soft laughter, how wide their grin can get--it flashed before his eyes, making him reflect back on why he was going this far, testing Rosie so much? All for the benefit of Priam, who offered nothing back but care, affection, attention...

     He shook his head, not wanting to even think anything further about that. "I admit I do have a curiosity for Priam, but I am under no spell of theirs. If you truly desire for me to rid myself of them--"

     "You're on thin ice right now, Alastor. Don't go assuming what I may want. Keep your pet, they are still of some use. As long as you keep your attention forward for our benefit, play doting master all you want." She stepped back, glancing towards the direction of where the speech was to be held by Charlie. "However... if you find yourself softening up, or letting things slide for their benefit and not our own..." Alastor took the hand she offered, allowing her to slide her grip onto his arm, stepping back to head towards the large stage with each step purposeful. "Bring her into town. We can pick her clean, just us, from those pretty eyes down to her splintering bones." Her words sent shivers down his spine, his mind replaying this dream from so long ago over.

     "Wonderful idea," he chirped.

     So irrevocably fucked.

Chapter Text

     The climax of the event was rather... stale. Alastor didn't find as much amusement as he thought he would standing just a few mere paces from Charlie, who had just finished a rather boisterous musical number she no doubt had been writing for some time now. The singing wasn't bad, but it did have Alastor grinding his teeth in more annoyance than usual. Thankfully, it hadn't lasted long, and now Charlie was making a tear-filled speech towards the crowd that had formed throughout the events. A vast amount of Sinners and imps alike, all looking on to their princess, though not many were truly listening with respect in mind. Everyone who has been around Hell for more than a month knows that the Magne family hard little to no respect before the face off with Adam and the Exterminators. It was hard for a lot of the citizens to change their perspective, but some did, and that was all that Charlie needed to get the ball rolling, so to say.

     The radio host rose his hands and began to clap politely with the others, noticing Charlie's speech had ended, only for the mic to be passed on to Vaggie--an odd choice. He spared his ears the torture of the any more rambling and awkward pauses, instead gliding his eyes out to the crowd, seeking a certain specimen he hadn't seen up front with Nifty, Angel Dust, and Cherri Bomb. That was concerning, but not as much if Husker wasn't also missing.

     He had made it quite clear that the feline Sinner was to not leave Priam unattended. Failure to follow that was not an option, least Husker really desired a punishment befitting of his transgression.

     Vaggie's speech was short lived--and then came Rosie, who had considerably been more helpful with Charlie since facing off with Adam. Her skills of being a well known Overlord with a faithful following made her perfect for mentoring the Princess of Hell to captivate her people. Rosie's voice carried through the mic beautifully, each word a poem to keep attention to her message. Alastor's eyes flicked over the crowd again, slower this time, making absolute certainty that Priam was in attendance. A breath of relief left him when he spotted the lamb further back, not apart of the collective group, but still close enough to watch. Their side was occupied by Husker, who was in the middle of speaking to them, gesturing with one hand. Priam's stare was honed in on Rosie, but their head was tilted, indicating they were listening to the feline.

     Alastor smiled to himself, running a hand down the front of his shirt to smooth out the invisible wrinkles. Everything was fine.

     Charlie grasped the mic after embracing Rosie, thanking her for every bit of assistance. That girl was still too naive for her own good, letting anyone work their way into her close circle. As long as they seemed to want to help, Charlie gave anyone a chance. "Alright! Just two more, and then we can get back to the real fun! Might I present another special someone who has been around since day one, and has did so much to bring my dream from paper to something that is glowing with promise! Alastor, c'mon up!" The demon offered a pinched grin, taking his time stepping up to her side. To avoid the watchful eyes on him seeing too much into his body language, he kept his gaze ever moving, turning a lot to gesture to Charlie, anything to not make it obvious that he'd rather be anywhere else than on stage. He's had a bad feeling in his gut since earlier in the day, and from what has transpired up until now, it only made his apprehension worse.

     He just had to get through his part, stand and wait for Lucifer's god-awful attempt at praise for his daughter and her mission, then he could bolt.

     It was never that simple with the Magne family. Much to Alastor's dismay, the father-daughter duo did not make the rest of the ceremony fly by. Another musical number, a tear-filled declaration of loyalty and hope to one another--so sickening it could inspire a children's film saga. Scarlet eyes rolled in exasperation, sharing a mildly displeased expression with Rosie. She wanted to return home, no doubt, so used to being among her people and finding comfort in just re-living her life as it was once... just with much more gore than before. He would rather be home as well, drinking tea and getting ready for a more calmer segment of his radio show, one where he gave advice to certain Sinners with certain situations occurring in their lives in Hell. It kept him entertained until he inevitably found himself gorging out with a symphony of screamed and hymns of pleads for mercy as a broadcast of its own.

     Thunderous applause cracked in the air all at once, bombarding Alastor's ears into flinching back. His eyes shut as he breathed slow, calming the instant rage he felt at the sudden noise. He was usually much more prepared for this sort of thing--but today, he was all out of sorts; nothing seemed to be going his way, and that was never a good sign to keep things rolling as they were.

     The noise extended until Charlie stepped down from the stage, greeting the citizens as they raced forward. It seems she had touched their hearts, or at least captured their interest. Alastor ignore the hums of chatter, turning to give Rosie a farewell. They embraced, Rosie giving a whisper of a reminder of their earlier conversation before bestowing a phantom kiss on the side of his face. Obediently, he nodded, murmuring words of safe travels and promises to have lunch soon. For Rosie, exiting a gathering was hardly ever a task. She always had an untouchable air to her, and if she needed space--she got it--immediately. The people parted for her no problem, letting her have a few moments with Charlie, and then again when she sashayed her way out of sight, her umbrella bobbing with every step. Alastor watched her go, a rock sitting in his stomach as he reviewed his current position in his mind.

     He was in danger; he became so careless in his time knowing his little lamb. All of his work, his endless hours climbing and gaining power, his planning of finding a way out from Rosie's control--they all have a singularity that is a threat; Priam. In the months that have passed, that singular Sinner has made such a profound impact on him, that everyone who knows him well enough can see them for what they are to Alastor; a weakness. His mind flew through everything from his worries, to possible solutions. From here on out, he has to be extremely careful with every decision he makes, least it will end in tragedy. Whatever happened to him, he could endure--he has all this time, so it wouldn't matter.

     If anything happened to Priam? Alastor didn't even want to ponder how he'd react. It was something he'd have to speculate upon sooner rather than later, but for today, he just wanted to treasure the lamb's awe-struck face as they check out the rest of the festival for some much needed fun.

     He stepped lively around the mass of people, giving a faint wave of acknowledgment to the more recognizable faces from the Hotel as he passed them by, intending to see what Husker and Priam had been conversing about this whole time--and maybe give a false accusation of disinterest in the whole purpose of this event. It would be a good laugh, no doubt, especially since Priam was one to succumb to teasing so easily. Husker would most likely voice his lack of care for anything aside from booze and a good game of cards. Either way, it was miles better than standing around for other Sinners to pry for his attention and answer any nonsensical questions they may throw his way.

     A pause in his step followed behind the way his brows scrunched. He came to a stop, ears flexing as he tried to listen for their familiar voices.

     Priam and Husker were not here.

     Alastor threw a quick look over his shoulder--but nothing. "Oh, Husker! Little lamb! Time to come admit you were not listening to dear Charlie's speech!" His voice chirped with a sing-a-long tone, swiveling his head this way and that to identify where they might have gone. A tick of his eyebrow and a tense tug on his grin signaled his displeasure. He kept his eye on Rosie when she left, so he was certain she hadn't done anything malicious--so where were they?

     His legs stretched with each step he took, canvassing the surrounding area. Stalls, alleyways, anything that offered any sort of visual block was investigated, but not a single trace. The broadcasting demon didn't know whether to feel rage or worry as his search became more and more fruitless. "Husker," he called out once more, teeth grinding behind his simper. He was just off the side of the stage now from where he stood, making his way towards the two buildings that held a makeshift dining hall, and a first aid station, a wise decision for such a large scale event grounds. The Sinners could be so careless with themselves or others, and there were never enough stations for feasting, so perhaps his missing companions went there for rest or reprieve.

     "Husker," Alastor spoke his disbelief, noticing the slumped feline. His back was sagged against the outside wall of dining hall, wings splayed around him in the laziest manner possible. Drunk. Of course. The demon dripped in crimson had half a mind to strangle him out in the open, but he still had no sight of Priam. "Husker," he growled, stepping up to the Sinner. With a polite flourish, he slid onto his haunches, glaring into the face of his servant. Unconscious. He clicked his tongue, reaching out with intention to slap him awake--only to pause when his eyes caught something resting on the feline's chest, almost covered by the tuffs of fur.

     A taser.

     A distinct sound began to build in Alastor's ears; a rapid heartbeat, accompanying screams of his cursed contracted souls wailing in agony, as if they too felt the surge of panic at the events unfolding. Grasping the little device, his piercing glare searched the small box, but found nothing out of the ordinary--except a little familiar logo along the bottom. Vox. Not a terribly uncommon thing, due to his merchandising involving anything electrical and of the new age. Why here, though?

     And where the Hell is Priam?

Chapter Text

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SOME CONTENT READERS MAY FIND GRAPHIC AND DISTURBING--PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN CAUTION.

THEMES OF THIS CHAPTER:

SA against a child

Brutality against children leading to death.

Suicide

    Dust never really settled in the New West. It seemed even the slight bit of movement kicked up endless clouds of it, until eyes water and breathing gets difficult. Wearing bandanas around one's face became normal as the expanding society chased dreams of gold and better living. The canvased caravans kept most of the personal belongings clean, but the driver and the horses dealt with the weather conditions with no reprieve. It was still better than leaving any later; the winter was mere months away, and as the air turned dry, the chances of survival always decreased significantly.

     "Wessoooon! How much longer?" A small voice asked, earning the attention of the wagon driver, his hand grasping the brim of his hat so he could turn, teeth baring a grin as he set his gaze upon his baby sister. Her soft curls were poking out from her bonnet, framing the widest set of eyes he's ever witnessed. Another head popped from the flaps of the fabric covering, a slightly older version of his youngest sibling, but more stern, ever the mature mother-figure on a mission to keep their youngest sibling in line.

     "Penelope, leave Wesson alone! He's got to focus on the trail!" May chastised, ever hands placed on her hips, just as their mama used to do when she was becoming cross with their antics. While Wesson was the oldest at nineteen, May surpassed him often by acting much older, despite her only being ten. Little Penelope just turned six, bringing the age dynamic through some odd turns between them. At least the youngest got to experience life as a child so far, whereas Wesson and May were already well aware of how they needed to act to survive.

     It especially didn't help when their parents departed just six months earlier.

     So, West became a hypothetical answer to their prayers. If they made it there and started quickly to make shelter, then Wesson could work to find some gold, and they'd be comfortable for the rest of their lives. He wanted to give his sisters the life they should have more than anything. He even turned down marriage prospects to ensure his siblings would be under his care, always. "I just wanted to know how far we were..." Penelope whined, face becoming red from her embarrassment. Wesson reached behind with a shift of his back, hand jostling at the top of May's bonnet, then Penelope's, reveling in how they squealed and swatted at his hand.

     His heart filled with affection, admiring his precious siblings. His memories were dotted with moments of helping his mother raise the two until he had to go to work himself. They were always so sweet, so well mannered, and always ready to have the most fun possible. They were always at his heels when he was around, begging for attention, for just an afternoon outside to play. It was never the same with mama, they'd claim, and although he was usually dog-tired from the hard labor... he'd make sure to give his parents some time and tire his sisters out with kiddie games he once played with the town's kids.

     "We've just got one more night, girls. We'll be there tomorrow before the sun sets. I promise you that." He flinched as they squealed, but the sound fueled his motivation to continue this journey. They were just as excited as they had been when he first told them, always out to join him on his next adventure. This broadened the possibilities of better quality of living. Once they settled down, they could finally get their way to a life to be proud of, and maybe, if everything aligned, Wesson could get married with a kind gal who wouldn't mind having his sisters around like they were their own children. Life could be good, Wesson just had to work hard enough to get it. He reminded himself of this as he shooed his sisters back into the safety of the wagon, his promise burning in his heart as he urged the horses to go just a bit faster.

     Little did he know, this was the last trip they'd ever take together.

     It had all happened too soon for Wesson to properly process it until he was situated in Hell for about a month. He still liked to rush through the flashbacks--it was less painful that way, to skip forward and just pick out overall traits to recall. Getting too into the details would send him into a spiral; the pain would make him want to do things he'd never consider more than once, and he was trying his best to curve the darker urges--to do right by his sisters. At least they seemed to not be in Hell, and for that, Wesson was thankful.

     However, within the last year, he has been plagued with the horrifying memories from that last night of their trip. It was one of the only nights he had fell asleep star gazing a bit too far from the caravan, and so, he never heard any of the bandits approach the covered wagon--not until one of his sisters screamed loud enough to wake the dead. It had stricken a frozen chill of fear through his veins, so much so that it took him a few seconds to even respond. He had tried, he really did, but by the time he sprinted up to the wagon, every bit of damage had already been done. Items had been tossed out, barrels broken and sacks shredded. Their goods were exposed, and somewhat ruined, throwing their survival plans behind quite some months. He noticed their horses were fine, to which he was thankful. When he approached the back of the caravan with a racing heart, said organ dropped immediately down to the bottom of his gut.

     "May... what..."

     May's wide eyes stared at him, but the light that had once been there was long gone. Her head was bent as an unnatural angle, neck broken and body casted aside so where she had slumped against the back entrance, blood coating the side of her face from a blunt force. There was filthy laughter from inside the wagon; jostling occurring as the men looted whatever they could. Wesson's froze, breath beginning to heave as he stared at his sister's corpse, growing colder and bluer. She had been so lively just moments before he had walked away while the sun was setting, promising the two would head straight to bed so they'd get enough sleep to help out in the morning.

     Penelope.

     "Wesson!" An agonized cry rang out, but it was snuffed with a choked sound.

     Wesson's shock turned to disbelief, then pure rage.

     He'd never forget about how he lunged into the caravan, taking on however many men that thought murdering May and hurting Penelope was acceptable. The exact number failed him, but it really didn't matter when it came down to it. They were much older than him, more organized, and quite strong. The fight, if it could be called that, didn't even last more than a few minutes before Wesson was thrown out of the wagon and onto the dirt once more, except May's body followed this time, landing with a sickening thud. "We've been on the road longer than you've been alive, boy. Since your female there didn't want to offer us any... home comforts, we decided to graciously make sure no one would ever proposition her again," one sneered, dragging Penelope out by her arm. "This one here isn't much of a fighter, so you just stay there, mourn your loss, and we will be on our way once we've relieved ourselves." The three other men stumbled out of the wagon, all perverted grins and haunting glares giving Wesson no room to think. All he could see was Penelope's tearful eyes, shivering harsher than a leaf in autumn, helpless but to whimper as the men admitted the horrors she had never been exposed to before.

     He attacked again, and again, he failed; though this time, he was shoved into the dirt, and forced to watch his youngest sister endure the worst crimes against women, her rounded eyes--so innocent, so precious--now damaged by Sin, no longer able to even dream of returning to the life she once had.

     Wesson never screamed so loud in his life, scrambling against the only man that was keeping him prisoner. By some grace, he was able to escape, and even grab ahold of a blade from his warden; there wasn't even a question about what he should do.

     "I killed them, you know," he said, coming back into the current moment and shoving his hands into his pockets as his boots thumped against the floor, each step carrying him closer to the other side of the room. "In cold blood. I stabbed and hacked until they were choking on their own blood. It took a lot of energy. I was shaking so hard by the end of it, that I couldn't even stand anymore." He sighed as he paused, eyes softening as he peered into another set of sweet, docile eyes, just as gorgeous and perfect as Penelope's and May's. Innocence, pure. "Penelope... she was too hurt, ya know? I tried, but what they did to her... she was bleeding too much, and even if she would've made it..." he rolled his head back, heaving out his stress in a singular exhale. "She would've never been the same." Those eyes scanned him up and down, eyebrows pinching just enough to convey an expression; sorrow. "Yeah," he huffed, "I killed her. A mercy, really, cuz right after that I blew my brains out with one of those bastard's guns."

     Wesson ran his hand through the strands of hair that made up his bangs, adjusting as he was haunched in front of his guest, tenderness swiping over his face as his hands reached out. His thumbs found homage against the apple of their cheeks, swiping across the flesh and tape with overwhelming care. A shuddering exhale left him, everything feeling right as he looked into the irises of his beloved.

     "Priam," he cooed, smiling when they flinched. "Don't be frightened, Sugar. I was able to come get ya, just like I promised."

Chapter Text

Warning: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS CONTENT WHICH SOME READERS MAY FIND TRIGGERING--PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

THEMES IN THIS CHAPTER:

SA

GASLIGHTING

     Priam stayed silent behind the tape, not wanting to even whine or whimper. Under the wrappings of cable binding, they trembled, each and every pore bleeding with fear. They only recently regained their vision--Wesson had put a blind on them when he kidnapped them from the festival, right from Husker's protective watch--

     Husker.

     A noise of distress left Priam then, heart hammering with worry; it bubbled deep in their gut, surging throughout their body until chills shook their core. "Oh, Sugar, you don't gotta be scared none. I've finally got ya away from him--it's just us now," he murmured, "that beast can't reach you here." His hands smoothed down the sides of their head, following the slope of their cheeks, all the way to the tops of their shoulders, where he gave what was supposed to be a comforting squeeze.

     "I should've known that we were connect the moment I saw you--because of your eyes," he said with deep reflection, his ever seeking stare peering into Priam's own. "They're so much like theirs; so bright, such large irises--you could just lose yourself in them." His lips smoothed into a flat line following a deep exhale, thumbs making small circles loop onto their flesh. "I'm sorry it took me so long, Sugar. I know he's probably got you all twisted up in the head. He's got the power... but I've got some now, too, and I'll do whatever I can to get you back to the way you was." Wesson spoke with a delusion of certainty, convinced that Priam was brainwashed by Alastor without even hearing them out. Still, the lamb took hold of their courage, and jerked their chin, making an imploring tone. "Oh, shit, pardon me Sugar." He smiled so tenderly as he took the edge of the tape between his fingers, being so careful to peel the sides from their mouth.

     The adhesive wasn't as powerful as Priam had originally thought. Each tug was almost painless, only little pricks of discomfort, showing just how truly careful Wesson had been when transporting the lamb. "There you go," he soothed once they were free of their restraint, honing his gaze into the set of lips he had kissed so long ago. There was a split moment--a small flash of something across his face; hunger.

     Heart racing once again, Priam leaned away just enough to brake his stare. "Husker," they asked, pleading, "is he okay?" The memory of his body convulsing as the feline collapsed onto the ground haunted them, especially once they caught sight of who had insistently held the taser upon his body. Now that they've heard Wesson's last moments as a human, they couldn't help but wonder if the other had a knife or a gun instead... would Husker have died? Alastor had said once, at the beginning of their friendship, that any and all weapons that were not blessed with angelic power couldn't kill Sinners, but that was just too hard to believe.

     Wesson scooted back on his heels and blew a gust of air from his mouth, head tilting to look at the blank, dark ceiling above them. LED lights glowed along each corner of the tiles, outlining the room in soft shades of blue, possibly a disarming tactic. "He should be fine; though I hardly care." Priam's breath stuttered, confusion overtaking their mind. Husker and Wesson always got along okay... what changed? "He works for him, ya know. That damn Radio Demon. Found out not too long ago. Tsk. He really does have connections everywhere." The impish Sinner moved around Priam, crouching close behind them as he began to undo their restraints. "Now don't you worry, Sugar. I wouldn't keep you all knotted up now that we're safe; though I do expect you to follow what I say, just so you won't get hurt, alright?" His words caressed their ear while he massaged their shoulders again. The way his fingers rotated around Priam's skin had goosebumps breaking out and disgust bleeding through their system. Reminders of the kiss from so long ago had Priam pale with fright.

     What was Wesson doing? What had happened while he was away? How did he come into power? What was going on?

     "Wesson," they whispered, closing their eyes tightly when he hummed against their ear. "I... I don't know... where are we?" They asked with clear caution, though Wesson seemed not too concerned with their body language, nor tone. He slid into a stand, offering his hand to aid the lamb to their feet.

     Against their better wishes, they followed him up, cringing internally when he kept their hands laced together. "Why, we're home. It's not everything I've dreamt up for us, but it'll do until I get rid of that bastard." He hissed, tail swinging with agitation. Gasping, Priam squeezed his hand to gather his attention, pleading with their eyes.

     "Please, leave Alastor alone! You've got me here, right? Isn't that enough?" Priam begged for mercy on behalf of their closest confidant. Even though they knew realistically, the tall demon could handle anything Wesson brought his way, there was just too many unknown variables that Priam was suspicious about, and if that taser to Husker was any indication, the impish sinner clearly had some plot in store that included more weaponry and whatever power he claimed to have.

     Priam's back hit a nearby wall as Wesson invaded their space; one fist thudding against the wall above their head, while the other cupped Priam's chin, both his thumb and index finger pinching their cheeks so they'd be silenced. "It will never be enough. That bastard has taken advantage of you too many times. You think I can just let him continue to do as he pleases--knowing what he's already done?" Wesson began to sound furious, shoulders shaking with his barely-concealed temper. Priam shrunk against the wall, eyes darting anywhere but his face. "Tell me something, Sugar. That day--he did something, didn't he? You've never raised a hand to anyone, and yet, when we--" he sighed, pushing his forehead against the lamb's as much as he could with his horns.

     "When we kissed... you turned into a different person. We have something, Sugar. I know you know this, too. So, tell me," he whispered, brokenly begging for understanding. "What did he do to you?"

     Priam jumped to the Radio Demonms defense, "Nothing! Alastor wasn't to blame, I swear! I just--" Wesson's laughter broke Priam from their explanation, swiping a trembling hand across his face, showing a sneer taking form while he gazed down at the lamb.

     "Not his fault, huh? So you're tellin' me, that even though he threatened your life, nearly killed me, and tried to cover it up by threatenin' you, that you actually still wanted to kiss him earlier at the festival?" Priam's expression of horror made Wesson click his tongue, sliding a hand into his pants pocket. "So he's worthy... but not me, is that what I'm hearing?" Priam's mouth opened, closed, trying to form a sentence; anything, just to soothe Wesson and find a way to disarm this chaos. A curse left his lips, rubbing over his mouth with his palm. "I'm sorry, Sugar. I didn't mean to spill that part; it's embarrassing, after all, to be coerced into doing something you don't want to do by a sick individual. Especially when it was witnessed by someone so close to ya." The warmth of his body shuffled closer to Priam still, his hands grasping the lamb's lame ones. They didn't dare grip his back, not wanting to encourage any further actions.

     Unfortunately, they didn't get to decide that.

     "Don't worry, Sugar. I'll help ya; I'll get rid of him, and then I will take my sweet time making sure to remove any touch, any manipulation--anything he's never done to ya. Just let me take care of it all," he spoke in hushed words while he leaned in close, looking just as he did back on that day... and Priam was absolutely terrified. A croak left their lips, but no true words left. Alastor was in danger--Husker was hurt, and Priam--

     Priam was helpless to it all.

     His body covered their's in a tight squeeze, and although his hands tenderly held their's, Priam felt no sort of ease or comfort. Their parted mouth entranced Wesson, and the only chance of words to stop him were lost as he captured Priam into a steering kiss, one full of emotion, of control and selfishness--just peck, after peck, until his tongue was seeking entrance and Priam's eyes filled with tears.

     "Sssh, Sugar, I know; I'm so happy I could cry, too..." he said, before diving back in, hungrier than before.

     Not once did he think to ask Priam if it was okay. Not once did he let her know that she could have a say.

     Alastor may be a demon, but Wesson was a monster.