#I hc Alastor as a crossroads demon

[paper-stars-and-fireflies]

4. Look at me

The fourth story in the Grimm Omens series! As before, both main characters are OCs: Magnolia is mine, and Omen belongs to the wonderful @splanoot Thanks for reading!  Fair warning, this chapter gets a teeny bit gory, but in the realm for Hazbin! Still, take care of yourselves!       “So it’s a deal then?” Alastor’s voice was heavily filtered, same as it always was when he asked those words, his right hand held out to her. She closed her eyes against the flare of green, blinking away the afterimage she was always left with. She lifted her left hand on impulse but dropped it, shaking his hand with her own right.       “Sounds like a deal.” she completed, sealing another pact. Her eyes sparked, she could see the reflection in the dark room. 

    “Good. Now get to it.” He boss instructed, spinning his microphone as he turned away. “I have a show to do.”     “Yes sir,” she mumbled, stopping by her table, her corner of the building, to gear up. She strapped on all of her usual gear, hand hesitating over some of the new toys she’d picked up. For now, she left them, choosing to rely on her old ways. Opening the window, she rolled her shoulders, letting the glamour slip off her wings, flaring them wide before she climbed through the window and soared into the sky, free and wild and on the hunt.     Her mark was some fish demon nobody who’d made the mistakes of taking some noticeable targets for some strange, occult religion of one. Alastor couldn’t care less of course, but lately this loser had started to copy the Radio Demon’s methods, and furthermore, he was the exact species of demon her boss needed a few… spare parts from. Intel has seen him near the south-east section of the pentagon, living in the abandoned warehouses there. She landed on a roof, taking a moment to get her bearings. She hadn’t ever been around here, but it definitely seemed like a playground for the psychotic and destitute. Magnolia started pacing the roof, hopping from one to another, glancing through skylights and windows where she could to find her mark. She could feel and hear people in a lot of the buildings, but none of them looked like the picture Alastor had shown her. She went up higher, hoping a better vantage would help. Bits of her facade chipped away, revealing her skeletal frame, gaunt skin stretched over knobby bone. She’d been flying long enough she couldn’t hold on to her fake form any more, but it’s not like she had time to land and recharge. She needed to be up to find someone in a maze like this, and besides, it’s not like anyone would see her, this high up.       Not long after, she caught the faint rattle of chains on the wind coming from a warehouse a few paces from any of the others. The windows were all busted in, but, unlike some of the others, not tarped over entirely. She circled it, figuring the devoted had an appointment with their warped deity. If she gave it another few minutes, let him settle in, she could catch him completely unaware, slice the parts she needed, and get back to Alastor before it was truly dark out. She’d even have time to stop by the bar, at this rate. A tiny candlelight flared, followed by a couple others. She landed, pacing, straining her ears for clues. Fumbling, a rush of breath, something clattering away, more struggling. Maggie counted slowly, pacing to the edge of the roof. When she hit ten, she stepped off the ledge, pivoting to swoop through the closest window. What she found made it hard to stay airborne and she backpedaled, almost hitting her skull on the low roof.     Her mark was bleeding, thrashing under some hell-beast, a massive, muscled dog with his teeth clamped in the water demon’s  slim shoulder. There was a sickening crack of bone followed by a gurgling shriek and the dog pressed a hand-like paw against the newly dislocated joint, holding the killer down as he lowered his jaws around its neck. Maggie drew several of her thinner, lighter blades, reaching back to throw them. Whoever this guy had pissed off meant business, but she needed his guts for her contract. Something about the beast was familiar, though she couldn’t place it. Something in the way almost-shining, silvery scars knifed through deep fur, the shape of the back, the unrivaled power of the frame. She flung the knives, most clattering off the concrete floor as realization struck like a bullet. His helmet lay to the side, rolled out of the way. This was Omen, hunched over the sinner, his teeth buried in its flesh, his body holding them down like they were a child. She couldn’t keep quiet, a sound caught somewhere between a gasp and a shriek. The beast, no, Omen, lifted his head, a snarl lifting his lip to expose teeth like broken bone and starlight. She blinked, too stunned to react. She had to do something but she couldn’t even keep herself up, landing on her feet and then knees roughly as fear wrapped around her like a snake. She knew Omen was a mercenary too, of course she did. They’d talked about it too many times to count.     He pounced. His body crashed against her, and it felt like all of Hell itself was pushing down on her as he growled in her face. She turned her face away, thrashing. Her true form might look weak but she was so much stronger now, and her wings gave her something else to struggle with. It didn’t matter. His claws tore through the membrane without a bit of struggle, as every inch she got, he could take back effortlessly. Omen was just too strong for her. She had known that too, somewhere in her mind, for a long time, and had been glad she wasn’t his enemy. Seems, in the end it didn’t matter. Seems he didn’t care, either. She felt her head hit the ground hard as she tried to free her shoulders and he shoved her back down. Her head cracked against the ground and she lay there, feeling dizzy and out of breath. His helmet lay out of her reach, the visor reflecting them, a massive hound pressing down on a skeleton with fire for eyes. Fire that would be out soon. She could feel his hot breath on her face. Funny, he smelled like citrus.     “Omen, wait! Wait a minute!” She gasped out, realizing he may not recognize her. After all, she hadn’t recognized him until she saw the helmet. She tried to push him off again, still dizzy, her head pounding. He held down one wing and the opposite shoulder but she tried to sit up anyway, gasping for breath.       “Omen, it’s me. I’m Magnolia!” She wrapped one hand around his wrist, the other trying to find purchase on his chest. Something dripped down her face and she wasn’t sure if it was blood or tears. Her breath was stilted, coming in shuddering pants as she tried to get through to him, screaming his name and crying, but her strength was failing. His mouth clamped shut around her shoulder, teeth snapping through her collar bone, scraping across her shoulder blade. Darkness rushed over her and her next scream wasn’t human or demon either. She stilled, the pain too intense to even think about struggling anymore.  This was it. She was going to die. Omen was going to kill her, and she wasn’t even going to get to say her piece. At least it was going to be him, she decided. She just hoped he didn’t feel too guilty, when he came to. Maybe he wouldn’t even remember. “Omen, please…” she whispered, feeling weak.       “Magnolia…?” His voice was even deeper than before, ringing without the helmet to muffle it, the letters sounding lost in his mouth. A shiver ripped up and back down her spine to hear her name on his tongue. His eyes were golden, she realized, staring up at him as both of their bodies stilled. He wasn’t frightening, not when he wasn’t trying to be. The scars that pocked his skin seemed like constellations up close, his fur so much darker in a warehouse at night. They lay in a bloody heap in stray moonlight, so transfixed. A part of her never wanted to leave this moment, knowing something about him no one else did.       Except now he knew her too. She tried to bite back the scream, honest she did, but part of it still got out, and she thrashed one last time, tearing herself away from him, pulling her knees to her chest and burying her face in her hands as her wings closed around her like double doors. Her face was hot, and she could tell from touch she was nothing but a skeleton barely covered in dingy grey skin. Another muffled scream bubbled out as she willed the world to be kinder to her. No one had seen her like this; even Alastor had given her grace and let her keep this disgusting form to herself. God, she just couldn’t have waited and come in normal, could she? Stupid, bony, skeletal wraith of a woman she was. Omen was never going to look at her again, not like this, and it was enough to make her still heart ache.       “You, uh, still in there? Magnolia?” he asked, tapping against the membrane of her wing with a knuckle like one would a door. With a stifled groan, she peeked out at him, trying not to look upset at him.       “I’m here. I….I’m so sorry you had to see this.” She managed, finally opening up. He had already seen, what point was there in hiding? “I, um, I don’t let people see me like this, so…” She swallowed, tried not to notice how his eyes tracked over her lack-of-a-body. “I used to look like that.”      “Don’t you think I should be the one apologizing?” He asked, his voice a low rumble that did something to her she couldn’t name. He dropped his hand, resting it on the ground between them. He dropped his head, blinking at his feet.       “I almost killed you.” He says to the ground. She shakes her head, only slightly alarmed that it makes her dizzy again. She’d never felt pain this bad before, but now wasn’t the time to dwell on it.      “But you didn’t.”       “I’ve killed everyone that’s ever seen me like this.” He tries again, looking very much like he was thinking entirely too hard. He could still kill her, she knew. Or he could bind her with a deal. She knew how he felt, her own identity was blown too, but it didn’t feel like the right moment to point that out. She gave him a moment to think, to work through all the things that were clearly plaguing him.      “Are you… okay?” He asked finally, hand on his head. “As okay as you can be, I guess?” The floor around them was slick with blood and there was a faint shake in her shoulders. She blinked up at him, eyes wide and bright in the coming night.       “I, uh… Yeah, I’ll heal. I’m alive.” She managed, wings drawn up tight against her back. It wasn’t that she was hideous like this, but it was just so…different from her usual form. The skin was the same grey, and it wasn’t the first time he’d seen bony demons. Her wings were a bit tattered, he kind of wondered how torn membranes could - oh. Oh Lord. Those hadn’t been torn when she’d flown in, had they? His eyes scanned over her again, guilt piling up in his gut with every inch of her. The floor was slick with her blood, her wings were torn by his claws, those bruises, those gashes, the bite mark, those were all his. He’d almost killed her. Lord, how close had he come to ending her forever? She shivered again, looking up at him again before dropping her head back to her rest on the arms wrapped around her knees.      “Sorry, I uh, I just need a minute.” She mumbled. He stumbled back, half scooting, half crawling backwards from her, jumbled apologies and reassurance spilling out of him. He turned away, reaching for his helmet. The sooner this moment was over the better.       “Take as long as you need.” He began to shrink back down enough to fit inside his helmet again, stopping short as the sounds of chains interrupted their silence, a faint shuffling from the other side of the warehouse attracting both of their attention. Omen growled again, furious with the two-bit killer and welcoming a place to displace his anger. He stalked over, intent on obliterating him in a way so complete and painful, even Heaven would weep.       “Wait,” Maggie coughed, trying to get to her feet. She was healing slower than normal, and the pain made her unsteady but she managed. She was stuck with her bony form until the pain subsided at least. Hopefully fulfilling her deal would help. “Are you… here for him?” She gestured at the fish demon struggling with the chains Omen had wrapped around him. “That’s… who I’m here for.” She coughed, tried not to gasp at how badly it hurt. What kind of demon was he?       “You’ve got a mark on him?” Omen asked, sliding the helmet on anyway. He felt a little safer, a little more contained. She nodded, finally managing to take a few steps. “How do we… if we both have…?”       “I gotta slit his throat and, uh, collect a few things. He’s yours after that.” She patted her belt, looking for a blade to use. “If your contract is to kill him, by all means. My deal wasn’t to explicitly kill him, but I do have to, ya know. To the letter. Else I’ll be looking a lot worse than this.” She tried a laugh, but the sound wasn’t right. Still, she crouched over the fish, straddling him.       “You won’t mind, right, mister?” She asked, almost kindly, holding the blade to his throat. It whimpered and she might have smiled, though it could have been a trick of the light. Seconds later the fish was propped up against the far wall, head hanging too far back as she worked with her hands in his chest. Omen watched the door to the warehouse, trying to ignore the noises as she talked to herself, talking herself through the demon’s anatomy, collecting her ‘grocery list’ as someone had scrawled across the top. Then there was the soft rustle of plastic and she stood, wiping her hands on the victim’s clothes. A shade washed over her, green sparks eating it away. She breathed out slowly, her form filling out and her wings disappearing back into their glamour.        “Omen.” She called, tying the bag to her belt. “I got what I need, my deal’s fulfilled.” She held her hands out, showing her restored body. Now, it was as if nothing had happened. Except there was. Ducking into the collar of her shirt, he could still see the dotted scar of his bite. Omen headed back to the body as she stepped past, her hand up in a weak wave.      “I, um. I’m gonna take this by my boss, then I’m gonna grab a drink. Are you…. Will I see you there?” She asked, her back to him, her head down. He watched her silhouette, considering.       “Yeah. I think we both need a drink.” He said finally. When he turned again, she was gone, soaring through the sky. The fish shuddered at his feet and he looked at it, taking his helmet off once again.       “Tonight’s really not your night.” he muttered to it. 

#Grimm Omens #I hc Alastor as a crossroads demon #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin hotel original character