#|( tell me we’re not 𝕄𝔸𝔾ℕ𝔼𝕋𝕀ℤ𝔼𝔻 ;; alastor [staticintone] )|

[oculosadvocum]

tag drop part two ;;

I know you work dON’T LIE TO ME—

[oculosadvocum]

Every morning was a challenge. This one was worse.

0xA00F4244, "NoCamerasAreAttached" 0xA00F4244, "NoCamerasAreAttached" 0xA00F4244, "NoCamerasAreAttached" 𝟬Ӿ₳𝟬𝟬₣𝟰𝟮𝟰𝟰, "₦Ø₵₳₥ɆⱤ₳₴₳ⱤɆ₳₮₮₳₵ⱧɆĐ"

No, no. Alastor—Alastor had set them up. Around the Hotel. Hadn’t he? Hadn’t he made it better? He made it better. He always made it better.

Reduced to heat signatures. Clawing into walls to avoid crashing into them. They lit up under his hands, electricity burning through circuits, foot by foot, inch by inch.

It helped.

Whimpering until he recognized Niffty’s thermals fly past him. It’s okay. It’s okay. He’s still in the Hotel. He could finally perceive the shapes of Husk, Charlie… the spider… and the winged one.

And Alastor.

Immediately calming down, only to suddenly realize the differences. Most of them were identical to his vague memories. But not Alastor. Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong—can’t be. No, it’s fine. It has to be fine.

“You’re different.”

Not his words, not his voice. The first thing to exit his mouth pulled straight from the waves. At least it was close to what he wanted to say.

But Alastor was angry. He wanted him gone. Everyone else talking in whispers. Called him Vox. Yes, Vox. Alastor called him that. He was Vox.

Charlie mentioned friends. He didn’t know what she meant. Alastor got more angry. Vox didn’t know why, and his safety began slipping away the more he felt Alastor’s ire. Apologies did nothing, but he was fast and loose with them anyway.

He tried to be good and quiet. Even when the spider got too close he kept his hands to himself. Didn’t focus on the ache in his mind. Charlie forgot to tell him to do things. That was okay. Vox didn’t remember what he was supposed to do either. So he tried to stick to Alastor instead. Waiting for the guidance he always gave.

But Alastor was still unhappy. Things he said went over Vox’s head. He would insult Vox just for him to agree. Alastor was right. Always.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

For how long? Vox didn’t know. Alastor kept track of time. Alastor told him everything. Alastor knew best. Where was he?

Back up.

He was once again pressed to the walls, feeling his way through the Hotel. Warmth in the shape of someone passed by. No, not someone. Charlie. Right. She was the same. Not everyone was the same. Alastor wasn’t the same. Close. But not the same.

People changed. He changed sometimes. It always happened—it’s fine. It’s normal. Alastor is fine. He’s good. Now he just had to find him.

GO FIND HIM, PLUTO!

There! There. Two moving prints—two nearly identical ones. But one of them, one of them lit up with cold markings. Zigzagged on his torso, his legs, his arms… His face.

“ALASTOR!”

He heard him, right? He had to.

Something was in the way. He clawed at the boundary until he hooked on what must’ve been the doorknob. He could hear Alastor talking to himself. Trying to listen to both. Struggling to focus on more than the one he kept what was left of his eyes on.

“Interesting.”

“Now… I knew something wasn’t quite right, but I had assumed it was faulty wiring. I didn’t think it was a case of double vision. I should have known better.”

Vox finally got a grip on the door and flung it open, all but falling down the steps to make it to Alastor’s side. He could feel Alastor’s claws dig into his arms as he lifted him back up to stand, and Vox gripped him in kind. Sputtering through signals in order to piece together anything he could that would express his gratitude.

“Forgive me, Godfather, but with you gone—she was so close—can’t replace your old—you’re not like him.”

Alastor moved a hand to Vox’s head and he whined.

“I know, darling. But I’m here now. There’s a drone still making noise on the roof. Attach to that for now. Get some of your sight back.”

Vox did just that; he knew how once Alastor brought it to his attention. It was an incomplete picture from a bird’s eye view, but he had stopped shaking. How long had he been doing that?

It was so much more obvious now just how different the two Alastors were. Both of them were… Alastor, but… it was confusing to think about. Made his head hurt worse. He kept his eyes on the one he knew.

He was less intense than the other one anyway. His expressions muted save for the ever present smile. He hardly moved his mouth, even when speaking. And he never blinked—always watching.

“Shame we are meeting like this, my friend. Yours must be the one making a mess of my life back home. I’ll admit I found him compelling, after the initial shock wore off. But I’ll be glad to return to normalcy. The Vees are so very intrusive.”

@staticintone plotted - RAM Swap!

"Hello, and WELCOME to the H-" Alastor's words caught in his throat and died, and he nearly toppled backwards and let the door slam.

Rewind to three weeks and five days ago.

Things had been strange on this end of the Pentagram. That was the truth. Ever since Vox had appeared inside the Hotel, with a retro TV for a head and the clingiest, oddest, most erratic behavior, Alastor had been feeling on edge. He, Husk, and Vaggie had immediately jumped to the conclusion that this was all part of an extremely complicated scheme to bring about the downfall of both Alastor and the hotel. Charlie, however, wanted to give the ex-Overlord a chance— especially since she had contacted the other Vees, and both of them had claimed that Vox had disappeared one night. They'd spammed his phone, only to receive nothing.

Their messages hadn't even gone through.

Charlie had asked Vox if he would like to call his friends, to which he'd replied, "who?", and Alastor had wrinkled his nose and pressed his ears back. He would have doubted that this was even Vox, if not for the fact that he went by that name (sometimes) and had the same hands, and knew things about Alastor that only Vox would know— on that note, this Vox knew too much.

Sometimes the information was only partially correct, though. Other times, Vox veered off into nonsense before he could finish what he was saying.

Television quotes, commercial jingles. All of them old.

It was hardly the worst thing about this.

Time had passed, and Vox had behaved like an obedient, needy puppy around Alastor for the entirety of it. Alastor hated it. He'd snapped at Vox more than once, and told him to cut it out, only for Vox to crumble and start groveling.

If this was a prank, it was funny only to Vox. If it was a scheme, Vox was an incredibly good actor. If it was neither, as everyone had begun to suspect... then something was wrong, horribly wrong, and it was terrifying.

Alastor had wanted to see the old Vox brought to his knees. He'd have loved to have been the one to do it. He'd dreamt of gloating over Vox after defeating him in a show of skill, of prowess— this, however, was not that. Vox stuck to him like glue to pages, never questioning anything, never talking back... and Alastor was trying ever so hard to be patient. This man was not his enemy. He couldn't even banter with him. Vox 'forgot' most of what anyone told him, lost track of everything else, and was too amicable to start with conversations of that sort of zing in the first place.

This, though... this just had Alastor reeling. He could feel his claws sinking into the doorframe and forming holes, his smile twitching, like it may crumble at any moment.

Alastor could handle many things. He could handle talking to Angel Dust every day. He could handle Vox being replaced with some weird shell of himself. He could handle being on someone's leash, and all of the horrors that came with that.

Staring down the hotel's front steps, however, and making eye contact with a mirror image of himself... Alastor could not handle that.

He swallowed, swayed, and swallowed again, lightheaded to the utmost degree. His chest hurt. He bit down on his tongue, to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

The other Alastor did not disappear.

"łs, u₥..." The Radio Demon blinked hard, repeatedly. Still, the other him stood there, and nothing had changed. Alastor leaned forward, and his red-upon-red eyes latched onto the other's eerie smile.

He didn't look like that, did he? This one was creepier? This one was definitely creepier.

"Is..." He was normally better with his words than this. "Is there... what... can I help you?"