Understanding your song

Drowning In thoughts

Alastor's POV

You know, that day was a pretty great day, when you live your afterlife to the fullest the possibilities of what you could do every day are practically endless.

You could take a stroll around the park, making small talk with the locals, meeting with some old friends or even go around and harass your enemies by just being yourself.

And instead of doing all of this Alastor was in a bed doing absolutely nothing.

Rosie had been out for some time now, all the pinky fingers she left on the night stand for him had all been eaten by now, he even started to imagine what unlucky fella got in Rosie's way to had his finger chopped off, he swore that one of them was Franklin's. He was an old asshole Alastor liked to bother with his presence, Rosie told him she enjoyed more the times he was around to annoy Franklin than the time she actually spent with him, to Alastor it was a complete mystery how an uncultured buffoon like him could score such a dazzling beauty like Rosie, she always told him that the affair she wad with Franklin was more for business than anything else, and when he managed to get himself killed by an exorcist last extermination Rosie told him that it was such a liberation to her, he was only famous for his power and relationship with Rosie, and he tried many times to have himself accepted among the overlords, but aside from that he was a noisy old prick who treated Rosie more like a trophy than like a partner.

No wonder he was now stored in her fridge.

But at least he had the blessing of not having to deal with all this boredom now, and Alastor envied that old buzzard for this.

It was all so calm in the room Rosie had left him in, the radio that Alastor had turned on a couple hours ago was not broadcasting anything of interest for him, he just left it on static sound, just to not drown in the silence of that day, the static was a sound that calmed Alastor, and one he could relate at the moment: he was now "static", completely lacking any movement by the pain of a wound that was deeply rooted inside him.

It was still hurting like Hell every time he tried to move too much.

He swore he would make Adam suffer for this, a slow and VERY painful suffering, one that the sweet release of death would not save him from.

Ah, the moment he'll get his hands on that angelic asshole...

To be fair, it was kinda Alastor's fault if there was not much of interest on the radio at this hour. This was the hour of the day when he would start his broadcast, and any fool with half a brain cell would know better than daring to broadcasting something at the same time the Radio Demon would. Alastor liked to have friendly rivalries, but he did not like to have competition.

If only he was at his radio tower at the hotel, he would entertain sinners all around hell with his stories, maybe he'll have an unlucky guest to have his screams broadcast for every demon to hear, music to Alastor's ears.

He would give something, anything rather than being in this pathetic state.

After a while of thinking Alastor had his shadow pick a book from Rosie's library, it was a mahogany colored piece of antique with many books of many types: novels, classic literature, cannibal cooking books (some of which were written by Rosie herself) and many, MANY books about romance, it was her specialty after all. The shadow happily obliged, picking a novel from her top shelf and putting it on his night stand.

Alastor's shadow was quite a mystery even to him. Alastor wasn't sure if it was only an extension of himself or if it had a mind of it's own, but it seemed to reflect Alastor's real emotions, even ones that his ever smiling facade would try to hide. Alastor could command it to do something and almost every time it would obey, but sometimes it acted on his own, and when it did it mostly liked to prank people, moving around the room, moving objects and scaring people, all that stuff. Alastor sometimes wondered if he should do something about it, but he just shrugged it off.