YOU EXHALE A TIRED BREATH, YOUR HAND and wrist slightly aching from how long you've held a pen. Though you were pleased to say that the main goal of yours--completing another stack of paperwork that has piled up from how many sinners deciding to join due to Extermination Day nearing--was complete.
At the same time, you can't help but feel as if you're wasting your time with it, judging that in just six hours, half of the demons who've signed up on a whim drops out because of impulsive behavior.
So far during your now two weeks of working at the Hazbin Hotel, all you've been tasked to do is go through the paperwork, and occasionally entertain some guests. Which was a little silly, knowing that any demon who lays their eyes upon you will screech in fear and run.
...is that why so many demons dropped out so quickly? That just occurred to you.
Well, if that is the situation, you certainly are giving Alastor quite the show, and fueling Charlie's worries.
On accident of course, you wouldn't want to intentionally do that, unless the demon was a prick and deserved it.
Nevertheless, if the days are tiring, or even redundant, you were thankful to be here. It gave you an excuse to leave your home.
Setting aside your pile of papers, you stretch before rising to your feet, the bones in your arms popping as you walk out of the hotel's office to go and take your well-deserved break.
Truthfully, being here, it gave you something to do. You've felt restless for decades, not knowing what to do besides helping Carmilla Carmine from time to time, and staying at home reading history and William Shakespeare books.
Your father is doted on anything written by William Shakespeare. He's even claimed to have met William once or twice when he was alive.
Such fascinating yet horrifying stories your father has...you have memories of being a small child sitting on his knee besides the fireplace, while his long fingers combed through your hair as he told his tales of his time as a human.
You always loved his stories.
But there came a time when the stories stopped and was replaced with the high expectations of being the perfect daughter. No room for fun, stories...or imagination.
You are stuck, tied to a reality you don't want to live, merely hoping that by working at the Hazbin Hotel, you'll feel as if you have a little control over your life.
Upon entering the longue, you see Charlie sitting at the bar, along with the other demon who calls himself Angel Dust.
Charlie is, as always, chipper and happy, believing wholeheartedly that someone will be redeemed before Extermination Day.
Though you doubt it. And you aren't the only one who doubts it either.
Curiously, you glance around. There is a color missing here...where's Alastor?
In fact, you haven't seen him as of yet today, which was odd. He usually shows up here and there, even if it's for a quick hello and goodbye. So, what made that routine break?
But, oh well, you guess. It's a little weightlifting off the chest when he's not around, to be honest.
When he's not here, you feel as if you can slightly lower your guard, and not appear so...cold.
With one inhale of a breath, you sit down at the bar, kindly asking the bar tender to pass you some coffee, which he scoffs at, mumbling under his breath about how you're at a bar, and why would he serve coffee?
You don't listen to him.
Upon hearing you sit, Charlie turns her chair from Angel's direction to you, her smile widening. "Hi Y/N!" she says, in that same cheery, sweet voice that reminds you of a doll almost. The type of doll where a child yanks at the string in its back, and wait for its sweet, soft-spoken reply to make them feel special.
"Greetings, Princess Charlie," you respond in a stoic tone, lacing your finger around the handle of the cup Husker just slid to you. "How fare thee this day?"
Charlie's face scrunches up, noticing that you just called her Princess, when no one else at the hotel does. You always appear so formal, Charlie thinks to herself...despite any situation that has been spontaneously thrown at the hotel, you've managed to keep your head and not react harshly or without thinking.
Hell, Charlie hasn't even heard a single cuss word leave your lips, and Charlie is the PRINCESS OF HELL, who does swear from time to time, but due to her title, shouldn't swear at all.
She has heard ALASTOR of all people cuss, which seems so out of his character, but you? You...don't do any of that. You don't swear, you don't possess a lewd persona--like Angel Dust--you don't drink hard liquor, and you keep your clothes in a rather modest and respectful display.
How could someone who--compared to Charlie--is lower ranked then her, and appear so...serene and stoic? So CLEAN of Hell and it's sinful addictions and touches?
How are you NOT like the others? You're a Hellborn!
Does that mean that it is possible...for you to get redeemed?
Charlie's mind goes everywhere at once, shocked by who you seem to be, and hopeful at the thought you could very well be qualified for redemption, but when you flick a sudden look at her with your dark green eyes, Charlie can't help but jump a little.
Charlie will admit this, despite your calm and somewhat nice demeanor, your eyes...they seem so cold, so...dangerous. As if anything could unleash a hidden monster within you.
She tries to smile through it, despite feeling a little unsettled IH your presence. "I'm good! Super good!" she gives two thumbs up, eyes glancing left and right before she spots the demoness Vaggie standing in the corner.
"Ooh! Vaggie!" Charlie suddenly leaps out of the chair and goes to the gray skinned one eyed demoness, as if Vaggie's presence just saved her skin from conversation with you.
Curiously, you look over your shoulder at the two of them...but mostly Vaggie.
She's different than the others. You can smell it. She isn't a normal demon...in fact, she isn't a demon at all.
You smirk a little.
Exorcist.
It's not rocket science. The demoness has a giant X over her eye, she possesses similar skin and hair color as other Exorcists you've seen during Extermination Days, and she carries an angelic spear which is NOT something you can just buy in the local Hellmart like it's a toy.
You raise the cup to your lips, wondering how everything will play out when Charlie one day finds out.
That isn't a secret you can keep hidden in the dark forever...nor is it a past you can run from.
Lost deep within your thoughts, you don't notice the eight-foot tall white and pink fellow Spider Demon lean to the side, trying to see what it is exactly you're staring so intensively at.
Without any luck, he gives up, and decides to start some small talk.
"Soooo...what? You some big shot or somethin'?"
You look at him in mid drink. Swallowing, you respond. "If you mean to say that I am high ranked, then yes, I am," you take a sip at your coffee once again. "I happen to be very high ranked, in fact."
Angel chuckles. "Who'd you screw to get that?"
You shoot him a glare, which causes him to raise his hand in defense. Does it sound that bad? Still, despite Angel delivering his words in a rather inappropriate way, he sticks with his theory that you seduced someone to get where you are now.
"I mean, come on, look at ya," he flicks a finger up and down your body, "you barely look over twenty-two, and how is it I ain't seen ya around much? You new to Hell?"
He...really doesn't know who you are? Well, that's a first time. Though judging his character, Angel doesn't seem to be the type to...actually care about the politics of Hell.
You chuckle, a little amused by his lack of knowledge. "Actually, I've been in Hell for a little over three hundred years. I'm a Hellborn."
At that, Angel almost spits his drink out. A Hellborn? He's never seen one before. Well, actually...he may have had plenty encounters with Hellborns due to his work, he just doesn't ask because he doesn't care. The possibility of that is very open.
But hearing you claim that you're a Hellborn--a high ranked one--now that's fucking crazy to him. And what's even more crazy to him is how you appear so young yet...you're so OLD! Three hundred years?!
You're even older than Alastor!
...Angel smirks. Well, that's interesting. Alastor WAS the one who hired you. Does Alastor have a thing for older women?
He can't help but chuckle on the inside. He wouldn't doubt it. Alastor...is a special case.
"Sooooo, Hellborn huh?" Angel leans forward, laying his upper half on the counter, trailing a finger against the wood in the little distance between the two of you. "Who's your mom and pops?"
"My father," you reply, lifting his finger with your own and dropping it to his side where it belongs, "is Zestial Morde."
"Never heard of him."
"Somehow, I'm not surprised, judging your type," you remark, crossing your arms. He's a Spider Demon like you...though he is a foot taller than you, and quite feminine in appearance.
You can guess why he's like that. So, there is no need to ask what it is that Angel Dust does when it's pretty obvious from his display in appearance, and the way he talks in flirty tones.
Angel chuckles, almost seductively. "Kitty got claws," he remarks before winking at you, causing you to scoff in a little disgust and scoot away from him.
Hopefully, he will get the message to drop the act when it comes to you. You aren't the type to take much of it.
"Joking toots, I'm just messing with ya," he raises both his upper arms in defense and does a one shoulder shrug when he notices your sudden shift in energy. Though deep down, he was also being truthful when it came to his flirt.
You aren't like any other demoness he's seen before. You stand out amongst the rest; he likes it kind of.
That and...he really likes the sight of your rather long legs...you must be, what? Seven feet tall?
Still a foot short compared to him, but hey...you got legs, that's for damn sure. Plus too...those spider webbed design tights you're wearing right now...
"What made you want to work at this tacky hotel?" he asks, lifting his drink with one hand before using the other to spin his bar stool so that he can stare at the longue that has now filled up with the other residents in less than ten minutes.
No Alastor though.
"That's for me to know only," you respond shortly, taking your final drink of your burnt coffee, setting aside the mug to stand up. Using your hands, you smooth out your outfit, fixing the button that keeps your cloak attached to your collarbone, and finally, raising a hand to brush aside some of your luscious, long black hair.
Angel watches as you walk off towards the direction of Sir Pentious and his five egg bois, or minions, whatever, he doesn't know.
Raising his shot glass to his lips, he wonders what was the actual reason as to why you showed up--from Alastor's accounts, in the middle of the night--looking to be co-owner? Though he doesn't know who Zestial is, you made it sound as if you and your dad were top shit in Hell.
So, if you are...why are you here? Someone with your rank and lifestyle could have anything you want, be whatever you want, DO whatever you want...and not have any shame.
You don't have to fight for everything you have...like all the other lower ranked demons. It's rather odd, and kind of suspicious to see you here, in a somewhat modest, small, and hopeless rehabilitation center that will probably never become anything serious.
Angel notices something else as well. It was ALASTOR who agreed to you becoming a co-owner of his hotel. ALASTOR who you went to just to get that position.
Alastor is a dealmaker; did you make a deal with him? Or are the two of you plotting something together? Because honestly...you have Alastor's demeanor. The secretive, coy, persuasive personality.
Angel drinks his shot, setting aside his glass, and whispering to himself. "What's up that sleeve of yours, dollface?"
✡✡✡
Meanwhile, you approach Sir Pentious, who you can clearly hear is muttering to himself as he messes with what appears to be blueprints of some sort of...war machine?
You clear your throat to make your presence known.
"Ah! What--who is there?!" He turns suddenly, his snake eyes falling to you, widening when he notices who you are.
"Oh!" He nervously tugs at the tips of his fingers, trying to smile softly to appear somewhat in control of his nervousness. "Sssssorry Ms. Y/N," he says. Due to his snake like nature, he hisses whenever he speaks his S words, though it's kind of silly, it's also a little nice to hear.
"No need to apologize," you respond as you take a knee to touch the egg bois who suddenly decided to surround you and chatter up a storm, asking how your day is, and explaining all the details of what's been going on in there day as well.
You giggle at the same time Pentious releases a sigh of embarrassment. "How many times have I told you not to bother Ms. Y/N?!" he says, flicking a hand towards the other side of the longue. "Now go and do my evil bidding!"
"Okay boss!" The boys salute, before waddling there way towards the direction where Pentious pointed...which was at the wall, only to repeatedly walk into the wall, some of them falling on their backs, unable to get back up.
"My apologizes, my egg bois say and do the craziest sssssshit!" Pentious chuckles shyly, clearing a little blush forming on his cheeks. Whether it was because of embarrassment, or the fact that you're talking to him without any threatening, or mocking tone. You didn't know which it was, so you assume it's a mix of both at the moment.
"It's quite alright, I don't mind it," you point out, a little smile forming on your lips as you raise a couple of fingers to your chin. "I find them adorable."
The blush on Pentious's cheeks deepens even more. He's never heard anyone else consider his egg minions adorable. Most want to squash his eggs or cook them for snacks--even Pentious himself is guilty of considering his egg bois a nuisance and annoying.
Hearing you--with your high rank, Hell, to Pentious you're practically royalty--compliment his eggs, he appears a little...happy.
"Thank you, Ms. Y/N," he says, his eyes glancing everywhere but at you due to his somewhat awkward nature, "for...convincing the hotel to let my egg bois stay."
You smile. It was in fact you who convinced both Vaggie and Charlie that the eggs should stay. Well, maybe Alastor helped a little.
Speaking of which...
You look around once more, still coming to the conclusion that Alastor is nowhere to be seen. Where could he have run off to, you wonder. And without telling anyone? Not even Charlie?
It had been a week since you had apologized to Alastor, when you, him, and the egg bois were stuck in the abandoned warehouse to wait out the acid rainstorm. Since that time, you have noticed the tension between you and him have lessened, but not by much. There are still some moments where you both bicker and mock each other randomly and over stupid things, though it's all innocent. Well...sometimes. Most times, there's been moments where you've both wanted to do something drastic to each other because of how annoyed the two of you are.
You were correct in assuming that Alastor would be your biggest challenge.
With a quick goodbye, you depart from everyone in the longue to return to the office, upon realizing your break had ended five minutes ago. Something you don't ever want or ever need...Alastor to lecture you if he notices you either did a bad job or were late.
When you reach the door and twist the splintered doorknob, you use your body to push it open, and a sudden quiet gasp leaves your lips when you notice something that wasn't there when you had left twenty minutes ago.
A bouquet of flowers. Not just small flowers either, but red roses in their full bloom, decorated with white sparkles, and tied on its vase a black lace ribbon, placed in the middle of your desk as if to show off its beauty to the rather crowded and small office.
Surprise fills your chest as you find yourself approaching the flowers, lifting the vase with both hands to lean in and smell the roses sweet and potent fragrance. Its smell is so strong it makes your chest tingle and stomach twist.
What a lovely gesture, the gift of roses.
Lowering the flowers back onto the desk, you delicately touch the rose closest to you, rubbing your thumb and fingertip against its soft petal.
Though you are pleased to see that your desk now had some fragrance and color to it, you couldn't help but ask this one rather important question.
Who had gotten into the office and put these flowers here? Why would someone do that, is the second question you ask yourself in your head.
You couldn't help but feel something suddenly tingle in your chest. Someone did this, with the intention of...trying to make you smile. Though who did this, remains a mystery.
Whoever did this succeeded, for a little smile forms on your face.