#vox/alastor | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

reinthechaosdeer · 6 months ago

Text

Chapter one: Melodies of the Heart

In the grand ballroom of Voxley Manor, the air hummed with anticipation as guests arrived, their elegant attire shimmering under the soft glow of chandeliers. Among them stood Vaughn Voxley, the esteemed Duke of Ashbourne, his heart heavy with the weight of recent events that included him cutting ties fully with his longtime lover Valentino Ruiz. Across the room from Vaughn and having just entered the ballroom was Alastor Laufey talking to Roslind (Rosie) Philmont, a dear confidant and friend of the two gentlemen, Alastor exuded an aura of quiet strength, his piercing gaze betraying none of the turmoil within at having seen Vaughn across the room.

Vaughn and Alastor had been inseparable since their youth, their bond forged in the fires of shared laughter and whispered dreams. But as the years unfolded, their paths diverged. Alastor pursued his passion for music, honing his skills until his name became synonymous with brilliance on the grand stage of the world's most prestigious concert halls. Meanwhile, Vaughn ascended to his rightful place as Duke, navigating the intricate web of aristocratic society with grace and poise. During such a time Vaughn met and became close to Valentino Ruiz.

Yet, amidst their individual triumphs, one truth remained unchanged: Vaughn's heart belonged to Alastor, a love that had blossomed silently over the years, its roots deep and unyielding. That love for Alastor had partially caused the rift that would then separate Vaughn from Valentino along with Valentino having become abusive and running off with prostitutes constantly moving from one to another flight of fancy.

As the evening progressed, Vaughn's thoughts were consumed by memories of their shared past and visions of a future he dared not envision without Alastor by his side. Little did he know, fate had orchestrated a twist of destiny that would test the bounds of their friendship and the depths of their hearts.

It was during a lull in the festivities that Alastor materialized, a vision of elegance and grace, his fingers caressing the ivory keys of a grand piano with unparalleled skill. The music flowed from his soul, weaving a spell of enchantment that enraptured the assembled guests, Vaughn included.

Unable to resist the pull of Alastor's melody, Vaughn approached him with a mixture of trepidation and longing, his voice barely above a whisper. "Alastor, it's been too long."

Alastor's fingers faltered momentarily before resuming their dance across the keys, his gaze fixed on the instrument before him. "Indeed, it has, Vaughn," he replied, his tone guarded yet tinged with a hint of soft nostalgia and hidden care.

As the night wore on and Alastor moved from the pianoforte to allow another to take over, Vaughn found himself glued to Alastor's side, their conversation flowing effortlessly as if no time had passed between them. But beneath the surface, a tempest brewed, threatening to shatter the fragile peace they had forged and the tentative pleasure swirling in the air around them.

It was as Vaughn gained the courage to ask Alastor to dance that Valentino Ruiz, Vaughn's former lover and a man of volatile temperament, made his presence known, his eyes blazing with a mixture of jealousy and possessiveness. Without warning, he lunged at Alastor, his fists clenched in a display of drunken aggression seeing them together.

Vaughn moved to intervene, his heart pounding with fear and desperation. "Valentino, stop! This is madness, We’re over!”

But Valentino was beyond reason, his mind clouded by jealousy and wounded pride. Alastor stood his ground needing to prove that he cared about Vaughn after decades of passively standing aside, his eyes flashing with defiance as he met Valentino's onslaught head-on.

In the chaos that ensued, Vaughn found himself grappling with conflicting emotions, torn between his loyalty to Alastor and the remnants of his past with Valentino. Yet, in the heat of the moment, there was no room for doubt or hesitation.

With a strength born of love and determination, Vaughn stepped between them, his voice ringing out with unwavering resolve. "Enough! I will not stand by and watch as you attack Alastor, Valentino, this misguided attempt to win me back ends here and now."

For a moment, the world stood still, the weight of Vaughn's words hanging heavy in the air. And then, as if by some silent accord, Alastor and Valentino lowered their fists, their eyes meeting in a silent exchange of understanding.

In that moment of clarity, Vaughn realized the truth that had been waiting patiently in the depths of his heart: his love for Alastor was not simply a fleeting fancy as Valentino had always responded with and nearly convinced Vaughn of, but a bond forged in the fires of shared history and unwavering devotion.

Turning to Alastor, Vaughn reached out a trembling hand, his voice barely a whisper. "Alastor, I have to ask though I fear your answer, please...give us a chance. Let me finally show you how much you mean to me, how much I've always ardently adored and admired you."

And in the gentle curve of Alastor's smile, Vaughn found his answer, a silent affirmation of the love that had endured the test of time.

As the notes of the next melody played beckoning guests to dance away, Vaughn took Alastor’s hand, their fingers intertwining in a silent promise of a future yet unwritten. And amidst the echoes of their shared past and the whispers of a love being rekindled by those who watched, they left the ballroom to walk in the garden away from others.

Chapter 2: Echoes of the Past

A gentle breeze swept through the bustling streets of London, carrying with it the promise of a new day. Amidst the throng of shoppers, Vaughn and Alastor strolled arm in arm, their laughter mingling with the rhythm of their footsteps.

It had been a few months since that fateful night at Voxley Manor, and in the wake of their reunion, Vaughn and Alastor had embarked on a journey of rediscovery, exploring the depths of their love with each passing day.

As they meandered through the crowded thoroughfares, their conversation drifted effortlessly from one topic to the next, the weight of past grievances replaced by the lightness of newfound joy.

Yet, amidst the bustling activity of the city, a familiar figure emerged from the alley ahead of them, his presence a harbinger of unresolved tensions and lingering regrets. It was Valentino Ruiz, accompanied by his new lover, Anthony Gallo, his eyes ablaze with a mixture of resentment and malicious envy.

"Vaughn," Valentino called out, his voice dripping with disdain as he approached, his gaze fixed squarely on Alastor after running a lascivious glance taking in Vaughn’s body like toxic muck. "I see you're still with the mutt. Tell me, does he dance to your tune like a good little lapdog, happily begging for scraps?"

Vaughn's jaw clenched with restrained fury, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. "Valentino, this is neither the time nor the place for your pathetic attempts at insulting us. Leave us be."

But Valentino was undeterred, his words laced with venom as he turned his attention back to Alastor. "And what about you, Alastor? Are you content to play second fiddle to Vaughn's whims, forever relegated to the shadows of his affection?"

Alastor's gaze remained steady; his composure unwavering in the face of Valentino's provocation. "I am nobody's second choice, Valentino. Least of all yours."

Valentino's laughter echoed through the streets, a bitter reminder of the wounds that still lingered beneath the surface. "Oh, how noble of you, Alastor. But we both know the truth, don't we? Vaughn will always come crawling back to me, no matter how hard he tries to deny it."

But Vaughn stood tall, his resolve unyielding as he stepped forward, placing himself between Alastor and Valentino. "Valentino, I will not allow you to poison this moment with your petty insecurities. Alastor and I have found something worth fighting for, something that transcends the shadows of our past."

Valentino's eyes narrowed, his fists clenched in a silent display of fury. "You're making a mistake, Vaughn. Mark my words, you'll regret this decision."

But Vaughn remained steadfast, his gaze unwavering as he took Alastor's hand in his own, their fingers entwined in a silent gesture of solidarity. "I have no regrets, Valentino. My heart belongs to Alastor, now and forever."

With a final glance of contemptuous surrender, Valentino turned on his heel, his retreat a testament to the futility of his words. And as the echoes of his footsteps faded into the distance, Vaughn and Alastor were left alone once more, their love a beacon of light as they continued their journey through the streets of London headed toward the opera house, their hearts intertwined in a silent symphony of devotion, Vaughn knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, they would face them together.

Chapter 3: Harmony Everlasting

The stage was set, the spotlight casting its luminous glow upon Alastor Laufey as he stood before a sea of adoring fans. His fingers danced across the keys of the grand piano, each note a testament to the passion that burned within his soul.

As the final chords of his latest composition reverberated through the concert hall, a thunderous applause erupted, filling the air with a symphony of appreciation and admiration. But amidst the sea of faces, there was one that shone brighter than the rest, a beacon of unwavering support and unconditional love.

Vaughn stood in the front row, his eyes brimming with pride as he watched Alastor take his final bow. For in that moment, he knew with a certainty that transcended words: Alastor was not only his love, but his destiny.

As the last echoes of applause faded into the night, Vaughn made his way backstage, his heart pounding with anticipation. And there, amidst the whirlwind of congratulatory embraces and well-wishes, he found Alastor, his eyes alight with the glow of creative fulfillment.

"Alastor," Vaughn whispered, his voice barely above a breath as he took Alastor's hand in his own. "You were magnificent tonight. Your music...it moves me in ways I cannot ever begin to describe."

Alastor's smile was radiant, his gaze locking with Vaughn's in a silent exchange of understanding. "Thank you, Vaughn. Your unwavering support means more to me than words can express fully."

And then, as if guided by some unseen force, Vaughn found himself sinking to one knee, his heart laid bare before the man he loved more than life itself. "Alastor Laufey, will you do me the honor of spending the rest of your days by my side? Will you marry me?"

For a moment, time stood still, the world around them fading into insignificance as Alastor's eyes widened in shock and disbelief. And then, with a joyous laugh that echoed through the depths of Vaughn's soul, he threw his arms around Vaughn, his answer a resounding affirmation of their love.

"Yes, Vaughn," Alastor whispered, his voice trembling with emotion as he pressed his lips to Vaughn's in a tender kiss. "A thousand times yes."

And amidst the applause of their friends and well-wishers, Vaughn and Alastor embarked on a journey of love and partnership, their hearts united in a harmony that would endure for all eternity.

For in the quiet moments that followed, as they basked in the glow of their shared happiness, Vaughn knew with a certainty that transcended words: theirs was a love that would stand the test of time, a love as timeless and enduring as the melodies of the heart.

Bonus Chapters Vaughn before the Ball: Breaking Free

The weight of silence hung heavy in the air as Vaughn Voxley sat alone in his study, the flickering flames of the hearth casting long shadows across the room. In his hands, he clutched a letter from Valentino "asking him to come back...That he wouldn't cheat again or hit him", its words a damning testament to the lies and deceit that had always plagued his once-glorious romance with Valentino Ruiz.

For years, Vaughn had turned a blind eye to Valentino's indiscretions, his love blinding him to the truth that lay hidden beneath the surface. But now, as the harsh light of reality pierced the veil of his illusions, he could no longer deny the painful truth: Valentino was not the man he had once believed him to be.

With a heavy heart and trembling hands, Vaughn penned his response, each word a dagger of truth aimed squarely at the heart of their doomed relationship. And as he affixed his signature to the parchment, a sense of liberation washed over him, the chains of his past finally shattered beneath the weight of his resolve.

It was amidst this tumultuous sea of emotions that Vaughn received word of Alastor's return to town, his heart aflutter with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. For in the depths of his soul, he knew that Alastor's presence heralded the dawn of a new chapter in his life, one filled with promise and possibility.

As the days passed and preparations for Vaughn's upcoming ball reached a fever pitch, whispers of Alastor's return spread like wildfire through the aristocratic circles of London. And though Vaughn tried to quell the rising tide of anticipation that swelled within his breast, he could not deny the flutter of excitement that danced in his heart at the thought of seeing Alastor once more.

And then, on the day of the ball, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the stars painted the night sky with their celestial glow, Vaughn watched as Alastor arrived with Rosie.

Bonus Chapters Vaughn leaves Valentino: Shadows Unveiled

The night was shrouded in darkness as Vaughn Voxley made his way through the winding streets of London, his heart heavy with the weight of impending confrontation. For weeks, whispers of Valentino's infidelity had plagued his thoughts, each passing day a cruel reminder of the lies and deceit that had poisoned their once-glorious romance.

And so it was, on this fateful evening, that Vaughn found himself standing outside the elegant townhouse where Valentino had taken refuge, his resolve steeling itself for the inevitable reckoning that lay ahead.

With a trembling hand, Vaughn pushed open the door, the soft click of the latch echoing through the empty foyer. And there, amidst the dimly lit shadows of the parlor, he found Valentino, entwined in the arms of another man, their whispered confessions a damning testament to the depths of his betrayal.

For a moment, time stood still as Vaughn's heart shattered into a million pieces, the sting of betrayal cutting deeper than any blade. And then, with a loud yell of anguish, he lunged forward, his fists clenched in a desperate display of furious hurt.

However Valentino was ready, his movements swift and precise as he struck back with a force born of cruelty and dismissal. Blow after blow rained down upon Vaughn, each one a cruel reminder of the pain that had festered beneath the surface of their doomed romance.

With every ounce of strength remaining, Vaughn fought back, his vision clouded by a haze of pain and rage. But as the darkness closed in around him, he knew that he could not win this battle alone.

Summoning the last vestiges of his resolve in living to see Alastor again, Vaughn broke free from Valentino's grasp, his body battered and bruised as he blindly kicked Valentino in the face and slammed a vase to daze him, then crawled out the window quickly. And there, amidst the cold embrace of the night air, he made his escape, his heart heavy with the weight of shattered dreams and broken promises.

As he fled into the darkness, Vaughn knew that this would not be the end of his story. For in the depths of his soul, he carried with him the ember of hope, a flickering flame that refused to be extinguished by the shadows of his past. And though the road ahead would be fraught with uncertainty and peril, he would face it with courage and determination, his heart guided by the light of a love that had refused to die no matter what.

#regency au #hazbin hotel au #vox/alastor #radiostatic #bapplesorchardcollabs #pride ring and prejudice

17 notes · View notes

maddi3sstuff · 8 months ago

Text

VOX/ALASTOR RP!

Hello! My love for these two has been EATING AWAY at me and I desperately need to roleplay them. What I’m looking for is more of an enemies to lovers and slow burn but if you have any preferences for the rp you can let me know in messages!

(I would prefer to play Alastor btw!)

I will do NSFW once we get into the roleplay more and I do tend to play more of a submissive role but I do sometimes play a switch!

I don’t have many triggers except for heavy gore. But if you have any just let me know and I will be sure to respect them! :))

If you’re interested you can add me and message me. I’ll be sure to get back to you as fast as I can! And if you’re able I’d be happy to switch to discord to plan plot ideas.

#alastor #hazbin alastor #vox #hazbin vox #radiostatic #staticradio #roleplay #hazbin hotel #vox x alastor #vox/alastor #vox and alastor

27 notes · View notes

impalafullofbees · 6 months ago

Text

I made seven sonnets about one-sided radiostatic because I guess I’m very deeply entrenched in this fandom now. This is my first ever post on this site, I’ve been on it for approximately two minutes now so if I mess up the tagging or whatever, just tell me please.

Anyway-

Sonnet 1

It all started when Vox sat in his tower

Quite bored, couch-sitting with Val and Velvette

He sat there contemplating Alastor’s power

Determined to have him in his clutches yet.

“There has to be a way,” his fury erupted,

“To topple his throne, get him here, make him pay.”

Val and Vel ignored him uninterrupted

These outbursts were common, the same day by day.

He rounded on them with a terrible groan.

“Listen to me, I need to defeat him.

But he has friends, I need friends of my own.

Let’s plot, scheme, plan something not on a whim.”

Vel looked up finally, sighing she says,

“You work on waves, so does he. Disrupt his.”

Sonnet 2

Vox posture relaxed, he was taken aback,

Their contributions were few and far between.

His obsession and his verbal attacks

They encouraged not and did not intervene.

But this was a plan, and not a half-bad one

He mused, pacing, thanking Vel as he went.

He had to start planning and get that plan done

With Alastor gone, he would be content.

But how to disrupt the Radio Demon

And kick him off of his own radio waves?

He would be stopped before he could even begin

Fighting head-on would be making his grave.

Then he stopped pacing, revelation struck

With a signal-blocking device, Al would be stuck!

Sonnet 3

Vox rushed his room, plugged his head in with glee

To make a device both subtle and strong

Until too late, Alastor shouldn’t see

This half-planned device that could do no wrong

Surely Vel and Val still sat grateful

That Vox’s obsession was turned to his work

To make a device that could be so fateful

They relaxed finally, still bored, jobs shirked.

But Vox was still tense as he worked without tire

Building programs, deleting, scrapping it all

Every click of the keyboard had passion of fire

Perfection was key, no wrong big or small.

Finally, after hours of hard toil,

It was done, complete, his work long-last assoiled.

Sonnet 4

Now to enact his plan most effective

He sent off a drone to infiltrate the hotel

It would, with luck, complete his objective,

Do what has failed prior for all of Hell.

He cackled with mirth as he set the drone free,

It had quite the girth as it sailed red skies

Precious cargo aboard, worth all can see.

Vox watched it from earth with stars in his eye.

It attached, like a fly, to the hotel wall

Its camera eye glinted as it drilled way inside

Then scuttled, a spider, scurrying down the hall

Sneakily slithered, snakelike, to where Alastor did reside.

Finally it breached, the mighty little bug,

Alastor’s room. It buried in a rug.

Sonnet 5

They waited, Bug and Vox, for Alastor

Anticipation nearly swallowed them whole.

But he came, cane clicking, as Bug ticked and whirred

It was quiet, Vox made sure to control.

Alastor stopped, his smile frozen in place

While both Bug and Vox stayed frozen in seats.

Did he notice Bug, which invaded his space?

Or would Vox’s mission be long-last complete?

Then he looked down to where Bug was hidden.

Vox’s brain-child, his brain-egg he freely exposed

To Alastor’s brain-sperm of thought, unbidden

They made Bug jointly, their joining predisposed.

He looked at the floor and gave a soft hum

And he plucked Bug between his forefinger and thumb.

Sonnet 6

“Why hello Vox, I am aware, my old friend,

Your spying, that’s old, that, I can allow,

But my room is a reach you cannot extend.

Arrive prompt, and by prompt I mean now.”

Bug chittered, scared, as Vox nervously sweat.

They were caught, no escape, their plan had failed.

Vox teleported there, his match had been met

Saw poor Bug trapped in Al’s grasp and he paled.

“I just want to talk, no harm meant I swear.

You know spying, for me, often crosses lines.

There were limits? I was not made aware.

I can go now, leave you and your confines.”

“No, you wanted to talk, let’s talk right here. ”

“I should leave, I’ve invaded your space, that’s clear.”

Sonnet 7

Then, with no hesitation, he dropped Bug

Who made a “ting” on the hard wood floor

For Alastor had moved the soft, plush rug

Crushed Vox’s work underfoot, destroyed forevermore.

It was a threat, that much was made glaring

No time to mourn, now Vox had to think fast-

Why would they talk? They made an odd pairing-

To cover his lie and escape un-harrassed

So quickly he blurted what came to mind

“I’m in love with you, I don’t want to fight.”

Alastor laughed loud, then rudely declined

On his heel turned, left, and turned out the light.

And Vox was left sitting, alone, in the room

Sonnets are about love, but this one is gloom.

#radiostatic #one sided radiostatic #hazbin hotel vox #vox #vox/alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel #pining #unrequited love #unrequited feelings #poetry #sonnet

14 notes · View notes

miz-blue · 6 months ago

Text

Hazbin Hotel fanfic/fanart: Desperate Maneuvers (part 1 of 4?)

Title: Desperate Maneuvers (part 1 of 4?)

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Rating: PG-13

Pairing(s): Alastor/Vox

Summary: (Regency AU) The once prestigious LeClaire family has of late fallen on trying times. So trying, as it happens, that the family's eldest son, Lord Alastor, begrudgingly agrees to enter into an arranged marriage with a wealthy commoner, a Mr. Voxley Smythe.

Notes: Part 1 of this fic was written for the Bapple's Orchard discord server's regency era AU collab, Pride Ring and Prejudice. (Server run by @bapple117.) This was originally supposed to be a contained scene, but I think it'll have two more parts plus an epilogue. If you find this post through a reblog, then check back to the original post which I will update with links as the other parts are finished. The story is also on AO3 too if you'd rather follow there.

This fic is a Regency AU, more or less. However, my regency knowledge is rather rusty, and also the setting is like some weird mash-up of canon and regency England. i.e. All the characters are still demons, and there's at least a little magic. And yes, Vox still has a TV head; it is what it is. Also, also same-sex marriage is totally fine, lol; the drama and angst come from classism and the characters being emotionally constipated.

A brief note on ages, Alastor is 30, and Vox is 28.

Fic is under the cut, and I also drew the end scene of part 1.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

"Aunt Rosie, this is degrading," Alastor protested softly, still seated on the padded leather bench of the coach. "I have no wish to be a public spectacle." He could hear the distant sounds of people as well as the faintest strains of music, and Alastor, previously inured to his fate, now found himself possessed of a certain anxiety, fluffy ears pinned back against his head.

His aunt sighed, expression sympathetic but strained. "Alastor, dearest, I need you to step down from this carriage. Right now." Rosie was already on the ground having been assisted by a footman. "The other coaches need to come through, and you are holding up the line."

Alastor took a shaky breath to steady his nerves before sliding closer to the door, but he showed no sign of exiting. Ever a font of patience, his long suffering aunt gentled her tone. "Alastor, for me, please, come out. Why, I hardly recognize anyone here so I doubt they'll recognize us!" It was such a baldfaced lie, unbefitting of any lady but especially one of Rosie's status. However, the falsehood did give Alastor enough momentary hope that when Rosie extended her hand to her only nephew's elbow, he permitted her to carefully but insistently tug him from the coach.

In the next moment, Alastor had set foot on the carefully tended gravel pathway to Battlehill Manor. "Good luck, sir," Husk called from the driver's seat, and Alastor spared him a tight nod before the cat demon was obliged to drive on. Husk was also Alastor's valet and sometimes butler--the LeClaires struggled to keep staff ever since the incident seven years ago.

Now truly abandoned to the capricious whims of fate, Alastor squared his shoulders and faced the stately manor ahead of them. It would seem there was no way out but through. Composing himself as best he could, Alastor offered his arm to his aunt who graciously accepted, allowing him to lead them to the manor entrance even though they both knew the way. The Carmines were distant cousins so Alastor had visited their estate several times as a child, though no invitation had been extended for some time. No, even tonight's festive occasion had less to do with Alastor and more to do with his intended husband, a certain Mr. Voxley Smythe. The two men were to meet tonight and announce their engagement. Lady Carmine was graciously hosting the ball on Voxley's behalf since he had no land or title of his own. What he did have, apparently, was a very lucrative business deal with the Carmines.

Lady Carmilla herself was there to greet them in the foyer. "Lord Alastor, Lady Rosie," she nodded respectfully to them both. "A pleasure to see you as always."

Another unnecessary falsehood. Alastor smiled through it, greeting her in kind. "We must kindly thank you again for your assistance in this matter and apologize for any trouble it may have caused."

She smiled politely back. "No trouble at all, Lord Alastor. Indeed, all the guests seem to be in high spirits."

The three demons made pleasant enough small talk for a few minutes before Rosie inquired after Alastor's betrothed. "Has Mr. Smythe arrive yet by chance?"

"No, alas, he is late," Carmilla replied with the faintest whiff of irritation. "Some important business or other. He is often engaged in work."

"Ah, that is quite alright then," Rosie said sweetly. "We'll go in, shall we? We ought not keep you from your other guests."

Carmilla stepped aside so that the two aristocrats might step past her. "Yes, please enjoy yourselves. I believe the dancing has already begun."

Alastor and Rosie both expressed their delight again before stepping into the hall proper. As soon as Carmilla was sufficiently far away, Alastor immediately set his sights to criticisms.

"He isn't even here yet? I cannot believe my situation has come to this," Alastor whispered, sotto voce. He almost needn't have bothered. Every soul around the two LeClaires was giving them a wide berth as if they were stricken with some loathsome contagion.

"Now Alastor, try to seek out a happy moment or two--for Nifty's sake if not your own. A dance even! Your dear little sister would love to be here. Ah, if she had her way, she'd debut tomorrow, the scamp."

Alastor scowled for only a second before schooling his face back to its proper smile. "Then let Nifty marry; she's the poor soul who actually desires such a union." If Alastor had his way, he would have chosen to never marry at all. After the deaths of his parents, his dowager aunt had resumed the mantle of family head while Alastor had been preoccupied with his school studies. At present, the two demons shared the load--meager as it was now--until such a time as it could be passed to Nifty or her future children.

Regardless of the gravity of their words, Rosie's serene countenance never wavered as the two LeClaires meandered around the outskirts of the party. "Nifty's enthusiasm for matrimony is commendable, but she's yet several years too young, and we are facing financial destitution now. And since that's your fault, dear, I am going to need your help fixing it." Her voice was a calm but ironclad murmur that only Alastor could hear. "Furthermore, Nifty's prospects are hardly ideal. Your present sacrifice may yet wipe some of the stain off our family name."

"How noble of spirit I must be," Alastor quipped dryly.

"Please, Alastor."

Lord, how it pained him to disappoint her. "You actually liked Uncle Franklin," he said sullenly nonetheless.

She laughed with genuine mirth at that. "Your late uncle and I were lucky, dear. Mayhaps you might be too. Stranger things have come to pass."

"Hmm, perhaps." Luck had thus far evaded Alastor, and he rather much doubted that he ought to find it in the arms of some crass lout, but he would soldier on regardless. He did not wish to ruin his aunt's night with needless quarrels.

Rosie walked with him until they had reached a long row of chairs set against the main hall's far wall. A number of guests sat at varying intervals, some catching their breath from dancing and others waiting earnestly to be asked. "Will you be alright here for a bit, Alastor?" Rosie inquired as he took a seat. "Since Mr. Smythe is not yet arrived, I was hoping to catch up with Earl Zestial..."

Ever the dutiful nephew, Alastor kept his forced smile in place and waved her on. "No need to concern yourself with my moods, Aunt Rosie. I suspect none shall endeavor to move me from my seat."

She offered one last rueful smile before disappearing into the slowly growing crowd. Alastor was left to lean against the wall, listen to the music, and try to remain calm. As he suspected, while some in attendance shot him curious or apprehensive looks, no one dared approach him. Alastor cast his eye about too, wondering if he might find his intended before Rosie did--or rather that the other demon would find him. Uncaring of the engagement proceedings, Alastor had no idea what this Voxley looked like and only knew a little of his exploits.

Yes, his soon-to-be husband, Voxley Smythe, some upstart commoner who had made a fortune for himself expanding trade routes for the East India Company before returning to England and making his fortune twice-over in various newfangled factories. And now—like some bloated carrion bird—he had come seeking a nest to roost in and a title to go with it. Of course, what better way to secure said estate and title than to marry for it?

In this rapidly churning industrial age, destabilized aristocrats teetering on the edge of financial insolvency were hardly scarce. Alastor had merely thought his infamous reputation would've kept him off the bargaining table. Either this Voxley didn't know about the rumors concerning Alastor's involvement with the royal family, or more likely, he didn't care. Surely the man could not be so unseemly that only Alastor would have him? In truth, the deer demon did not know. After initially consenting to the written proposal, Alastor had left the matter of negotiations entirely to Rosie.

Fortunately for the LeClaire family, Voxley had no children of his own, and his and Alastor's union would not produce any; thus Nifty would still remain the next in line to inherit what was left of the family's property and good name. Voxley's monetary contributions would keep the LeClaires afloat and replenish their coffers, and in return the man could leverage all the political and social benefits that came with a noble rank. In some manner, it was a relief that Alastor was simply a means to an end, not a desirable aspect himself. A prickly and solitary composer, the young aristocrat had hardly been overburdened with social ties even before his fall from grace. With any luck, Voxley would spend most of his time in London overseeing his various business enterprises and leave Alastor in peace at his ancestral home in the countryside.

Alastor cast a wary look about the large room once more. Zounds, what was taking the man so long? Imagine being late to a party in one's honor; Alastor found it rude and ungentlemanly.

Although…allowing himself a little ungentlemanly moment as well, Alastor at last gave into the desire to be elsewhere. No one stopped him as he slipped out of the spacious drawing room, up a small staircase, and down a side hall towards where he knew a veranda should still be, assuming Carmilla hadn't made any recent renovations to the manor. But no, it was still there.

Alastor sighed, leaning on the thick balcony railing and glancing out over the dark countryside. Every so often the moon would peek out from behind the clouds, bathing well-maintained gardens and the distant woods in a silvery glow. Crickets chirped faintly, and Alastor could hear the dance music from downstairs, the windows having been opened to the cool, spring night air. The young aristocrat drummed his fingers to the beat of a violin solo, feeling the distant echo of his own magical powers but as ever, he was unable to summon them. So lost in thought was Alastor that he scarcely noticed an interloper on his solitude.

"Hey."

Red ears perked up and swiveled, and Alastor's eyes widened at the familiar voice. Turning around, his gaze beheld some strange amalgamation--a ghost of his past decked out like an omen from the future. The Victor Owens now before him was a far cry from the timid, obsequious clockmaker's apprentice that Alastor had for some time befriended whilst studying at Eton. Now Victor moved with easy confidence, walking towards Alastor as if he had every right to do so. More surprisingly was the other demon's clothing. He looked like a proper gentleman now, smartly tailored in the latest fashion of London. Alastor felt vaguely embarrassed for his own expensive but now threadbare suit, but something new had been a bit out of his means at the moment.

Alastor forced himself to incline his head politely which Victor did in kind. "My, but it has been some time since last we spoke." Since last we fought, Alastor thought, remembering their messy parting of ways nearly a decade ago. Though he had seen Victor about town after that day, the two of them had pointedly ignored each other. Then when Alastor had gone from Eton, he had scarcely thought of Victor at all. University studies of music and sorcery at Oxford and later a more...specialized tutelage in Windsor had kept him busy. At least until everything had fallen apart.

"It has been some years, yes." The slightly younger demon came over to the balcony, leaning against it too.

Alastor nodded in acknowledgment, but otherwise he had nothing to say to his former 'friend' and thus allowed the brief conversation to lapse into awkward silence. However, Victor did not quit his presence, and so the two demons stared out into the dark countryside together.

"Are you alright?" Victor inquired after a moment, politely neutral. "You seem a bit...harrowed."

Alastor managed a thin smile. So they would be playing the part of amiable old acquaintances then? Very well. "Alas, I've been better. I am to be engaged, you see." If Victor was moving in more prestigious circles nowadays, then no doubt he was already aware of the general outline of Alastor's situation if not its full extent.

"Usually engagements are happy occurrences…" the other demon prompted, a subtle invitation for Alastor to elaborate.

"Not this one," Alastor obliged, voice laced with an undercurrent of misery. And yet it was perversely satisfying to air his grievances so freely to someone, especially someone like Victor who did not require Alastor to put on airs. "The situation is utterly not of my choosing. Sold off like so much livestock to some repellent stranger."

"Aren't arranged marriages par for the course for your sort?" Victor apparently couldn't help but jibe. "I'm sure he can't be that bad, especially when you don't even know him."

"Oh please, what's to know?" Alastor's clawed fingertips tapped irritably on the glossy marble. "He's a boorish, vulgar social climber. You'd know the sort."

Victor glared at him, gentlemanly facade starting to slip--as Alastor had hoped it might. "Would I now? And is that what you'd say about me too? A disgrace too poor in breeding to be considered for an aristocrat's hand?" Victor glanced shyly away. "For your hand?"

Alastor laughed, finally in better spirits now that he had been presented with such easy prey. "Yes, I see you've come up in the world a bit yourself. Still not over your little flight of fancy for me though, hmm? Well, I certainly wouldn't have married you either way, old pal."

Victor's face flushed angrily. "No, you wouldn't have. You're more the type who keeps his lower class friends like a dirty secret and then discards them to save face."

Alastor felt a twinge of guilt at that but hid it well. "It's not my fault you insisted on reaching above your station, my dear."

The other demon composed himself with some effort. "I have a station now myself," he retorted tersely.

"And money, I'm sure, if your gaudy attire is any indication. All of which is merely like gilding brass. Simply scratch the surface and the cheap base material shows through." Alastor smiled meanly at Victor's hurt expression. Yes, this was why they couldn't be friends--why it didn't pay to befriend anyone from the lower class. Alastor had always wondered if Victor liked him or merely wished to be close to someone of his rank. "Regardless you're too late anyway. As I stated earlier, I am spoken for. Though even if I wasn't, I still wouldn't take up with you."

"Fine, fuck you, Alastor. I see you haven't changed at all in your last seven years as a hermit. Still just a prick with an overinflated ego."

Alastor feigned an offended gasp. "You really are a vile and insignificant little man," he replied with a pitying laugh. "Now leave me be. A proper gentleman should know when his presence is undesirable." The aristocrat made a vague shooing gesture to which Victor offered a far more vulgar gesture of his own before storming off back into the manor.

Once his former companion had departed, Alastor slumped back against the balcony railing with a sigh. Where he should have felt satisfied amusement, there was only cloying melancholy. The crickets and the violins no longer offered any solace, but returning to the party would be far worse. In truth, Alastor had been so long out of public that the presence of so many people now unexpectedly grated upon his nerves, and he wished only to return home to sweet sepulchral silence or perhaps the playing of his own hands upon his piano. Alas, like many things Alastor desired, it was not to be. At least sequestered here on the veranda he would not need to endure so many eyes upon his person.

However, Alastor was scarcely left alone for another ten minutes before Rosie came looking for him, heels clicking smartly on the tiled floor. "Alastor! There you are! Honestly now, I had to ask several servants before one knew where you'd gone." She began smoothing out his cravat and jacket, clucking at him like a mother hen.

"I was just taking some air," Alastor said with a sigh, letting her fuss over him. He would never admit it, but the motherly attention was very soothing.

"Avoiding the party, yes, I'm aware," Rosie replied, not fooled in the slightest. "Mr. Smythe has presently arrived though so if you would please come back to the main hall, you may meet him properly."

Alastor's stomached flipped unpleasantly, but he kept his smile affixed to his face. "Oh? Has his highness finally deigned to grace us with his presence?"

Rosie hustled them both back towards the ball as quickly as she could without appearing improper. "Now, Alastor, you've agreed to this matter already. Please try not to immediately offend the poor man."

"Emphasis on 'poor'," Alastor replied caustically, making his aunt sigh in exasperation.

The two aristocrats rejoined the main event, Alastor obligingly offering Rosie his arm again as she led them through the room. There were a number of faces about them that Alastor did not recognize, and he couldn't help but wonder which unfortunate soul he was to be fobbed off to.

They were near the curving, elegant main staircase when Rosie finally appeared to set eyes on the man she was looking for. "Ah, here we are." She turned Alastor around before stepping to the side. Gesturing to the demon coming down the stairs towards them, she said, "Alastor, this is Voxley Smythe."

Victor stopped on the second step from the bottom, smiling down at them. "Just 'Vox' is fine," he said.

Alastor felt his own smile grow painfully tight. Fuck him indeed, apparently.

tbc...

#PrideRingandPrejudice #BapplesOrchardCollabs #RadioStatic #StaticRadio #Alastor/Vox #voxal #Vox/Alastor #my writing

12 notes · View notes