What did remarkableness matter? Perhaps it mattered to Lotte, in her short life, to be remarkable. It didn't matter much to Alastor. What mattered to him was difference, which begat intrigue. A thing needn't be remarkable to possess those qualities. Hell was remarkable, for sure, but it was also powerfully dull. Anything Lotte could show him was scads apart from that.
His shadow misted up like seafoam, where her fingers reached out to touch it, prancing around her grasp in mid air, thin threads of sentient smoke. It licked at her fingertips and darted away again, as if shy, though it wasn't a shy thing, at all.
Its consideration, as always, mattered to Alastor. Its touching at Lotte's fingertips reassured him that he was correct, that he could step beyond the bounds of the circle, without ill effect. It went into the spaces between the floorboards because it was comfortable there, of course, but it also went, as always, to step in front of him and be sure that the way was safe. Without it, he would surely have fallen into many a dull or even dire situation, in times passed. While they were, in ways, the same creature, still he owed it his life for keeping the lookout for him. And it hummed now, through the static that surrounded him, that there was no magic here that would seek to obliterate or harm him if he chanced to move forward as he so desperately craved to do, like a fire in his blood.
And oh, he craved it. The desire bubbled in his blood like laughter, buoyant with the idea that she would recoil in alarm when it was finally revealed to her. He could imagine it now, the way her eyes would widen again like dinner plates, the way her pulse would dance in her veins like a caged thing, when she knew he was not, himself, so caged as she thought.
"Ah!" He exclaimed. "That's certainly no trouble! No need to worry yourself with that, dear, I've got it all taken care of. If you'll only step back -" He motioned with his hands, brushing towards her, to shoo her slightly away from him. "I'll take care of the rest."
Here, then, was the moment.
It was nothing for him, but he supposed it might be everything, for her. The urge was there, to raise his claws to the edge of the circle again, as he had on his former visit, but his shadow hissed at him that it wasn't necessary. This was the same magic, and he was as acclimated to it as he had been, before.
He need only take a step forward, and then another, narrow feet silent on the floor. And then he crossed it.
There was a wavering in his shape again, a shudder that ran through Alastor and shook his shoulders. He shivered and righted himself. Here, now, on the other side of the circle, standing on bare floor, Lotte was even clearer than ever, and his smile widened, ah, he was so pleased with himself. It comforted him, that pleasure, warm like a drought of hot cider pouring down his throat. He leered at Lotte with all his teeth on display. "Simple as pie," he assured her.
no subject
What did remarkableness matter? Perhaps it mattered to Lotte, in her short life, to be remarkable. It didn't matter much to Alastor. What mattered to him was difference, which begat intrigue. A thing needn't be remarkable to possess those qualities. Hell was remarkable, for sure, but it was also powerfully dull. Anything Lotte could show him was scads apart from that.
His shadow misted up like seafoam, where her fingers reached out to touch it, prancing around her grasp in mid air, thin threads of sentient smoke. It licked at her fingertips and darted away again, as if shy, though it wasn't a shy thing, at all.
Its consideration, as always, mattered to Alastor. Its touching at Lotte's fingertips reassured him that he was correct, that he could step beyond the bounds of the circle, without ill effect. It went into the spaces between the floorboards because it was comfortable there, of course, but it also went, as always, to step in front of him and be sure that the way was safe. Without it, he would surely have fallen into many a dull or even dire situation, in times passed. While they were, in ways, the same creature, still he owed it his life for keeping the lookout for him. And it hummed now, through the static that surrounded him, that there was no magic here that would seek to obliterate or harm him if he chanced to move forward as he so desperately craved to do, like a fire in his blood.
And oh, he craved it. The desire bubbled in his blood like laughter, buoyant with the idea that she would recoil in alarm when it was finally revealed to her. He could imagine it now, the way her eyes would widen again like dinner plates, the way her pulse would dance in her veins like a caged thing, when she knew he was not, himself, so caged as she thought.
"Ah!" He exclaimed. "That's certainly no trouble! No need to worry yourself with that, dear, I've got it all taken care of. If you'll only step back -" He motioned with his hands, brushing towards her, to shoo her slightly away from him. "I'll take care of the rest."
Here, then, was the moment.
It was nothing for him, but he supposed it might be everything, for her. The urge was there, to raise his claws to the edge of the circle again, as he had on his former visit, but his shadow hissed at him that it wasn't necessary. This was the same magic, and he was as acclimated to it as he had been, before.
He need only take a step forward, and then another, narrow feet silent on the floor. And then he crossed it.
There was a wavering in his shape again, a shudder that ran through Alastor and shook his shoulders. He shivered and righted himself. Here, now, on the other side of the circle, standing on bare floor, Lotte was even clearer than ever, and his smile widened, ah, he was so pleased with himself. It comforted him, that pleasure, warm like a drought of hot cider pouring down his throat. He leered at Lotte with all his teeth on display. "Simple as pie," he assured her.