Like A Dark Paradise (A Hazbin Hotel story)

Bad Tension

Alastor stood in front of his full-view mirror, adjusting his more formal bowtie on the collar of his tuxedo. It's been ages since he last wore it, especially to a formal event. In fact, he could not recall the last time he had worn it. Maybe thirty or so years ago when times were so much simpler and more enjoyable. For him at least. He would have liked it a lot more...if he wasn't attending Valentino's party. Going to his party would also mean putting up with that insufferable TV demon, Vox and his mousey harlequin, Velvet.

Out of nowhere, he heard a loud crash coming from the living room followed by Aura's swearing. Surprising, in English. Strange. Aura rarely swears like that except when it's in another language. Something must've made her worked up for some reason. He might as well check up on her just in case. Alastor left the confines of his bedroom for a short time, hoping that Aura hasn't broken anything of value. There were a few items and relics in his house that are not easily repairable. Not only that, there would be serious trouble if something were to happen to them.

The deer demon made haste down the steps towards the living room and searched for the source of the noise. There were no traces of any possible objects that could make such a sound. That's what he thought for a while until he peered around the corner to see the witch doctor grimacing over a few broken pieces of the vase. Oh good. She has only broken one the more meaningless things in his house. Although, he noticed something different with Aura. She seems more... uptight than usual.

"Aura?" he called out.

She nearly jumped at the sound of his voice, informing him that it was just a small clumsy accident on her part before she began picking the pieces off the floor. Just as she was reaching for one of the next larger pieces in front of her, she felt her wrist being grasped firmly which did not improve her mood at the slightest.

"Aura. Is something bothering you as of late?" he asked. She remained silent, turning her head away from the irksome Radio Demon. "The only reason I asked is because you tend to overwork yourself more than usual whenever you're stressed out about something. Now I know you don't like people becoming concerned about you, but I don't want to see you working yourself to the point of exhaustion like the last time."

The female deer demon made a sharp "tch!" sound at his statement. She knew that her die-hard habits were very noticeable to some that knew her well. Regardless, she did not want to admit it openly.

"Don't think I haven't noticed, Madame Aura," he informed in a threatening tone. "The way you would work your fingers endlessly despite the calloused bruising at the knuckles when you were washing clothes, how you clean the house from top to bottom needlessly when you know that's not your job, and the fact that you haven't even slept since yesterday? Do you think I don't notice these things when I'm around you?"

No response.

"Aura, I've known you for a very long time. You once stated that you hated playing the gender stereotype of a housemaid and yet, here you are contradicting yourself by doing these things. I hate seeing you like this, so please tell me what's on your mind." Alastor knew how stubborn she was. No matter how much he tries to persuade her into talking even to the point of threatening her (as pointless as it is), she still refuses to speak up about it. Even when Aura herself denies any issues she may have, her habits would surely give her away.

Aura gave out a sigh and shook her head. "It's nothing," she said finally. "I'm just a bit stressed. That's all."

"If you were just a 'bit stressed', you wouldn't be causing such a ruckus," he explained as he released his hold on her wrist. "But knowing how you are, it'll be pointless to pry anything out of you."

"Ah. So you were paying attention." Aura staggered to her feet, nearly falling over from the sudden bloodrush from her head.

"Only because I've learned from last time," he chuckled as he snapped his fingers. The pieces of the broken vase glowed a crimson color and floated about in a circular motion, assembling itself back to its original state. Once the vase was fully restored, the illuminating glow steadily vanished. "I rather take the stinging of your words than the stinging of your daggers."