Radiostatic Week 2024: Day 3, Date Night (wip)
Vox and the ladies of cannibal town are at war of which Al is blissfully oblivious.
(In my defense I've only learned this event is ongoing yesterday and today is the only day of the month I planned to have free from working on my bachelor's, so a wip is really all I could manage ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)
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RadioStatic Week 2024
First Meeting
[I'm probably not going to do all the days due to work, but I wanted to draw at least this one!
I know they most likely met while Vox was building a video/tv empire in Hell, but I couldn't get this one scenario out of my head of Alastor finding Vox shortly after he arrives in Hell. Enjoy this mini-fic I wrote about it!]
The sinner was scrawny, a picture box laying on his shoulders, the glass having been broken in by the demons Alastor had just chased away. What looked like a face occasionally flashed on the screen.
The Radio Host's eyes scrunched up in disgust, his very personal feelings and opinions about televisions flooding into him. He should have passed on by.
Whoever this sinner was, he was possibly one of the most pathetic-looking sinners Alastor had ever laid his eyes upon.
Even so, a sinner down on his luck was another opportunity for a deal and another avenue to grow his power.
"My, my. You look like you've seen better days! Welcome to Hell, my good fellow!"
At the sound of the Radio Demon's voice, the newest arrival to Hell turned his head, the broken screen flashing, occasionally illuminating Alastor's face. A distorted, filtered voice with uneven volume emanates from the picture box, words occasionally repeating and stuttering due to the damage.
"H-H-Hell? W-W-Wał₮…I. I. I. I. Kn-Know th-th-₮Ⱨ₳₮ voł₵Ɇ."
Alastor paused.
"Oh?"
"A-A-Al₳₴₮ØⱤ ████████. ₣ⱤØ₥ ₮ⱧɆ ███ ███████ RadĐłØ ₴ⱧØ₩. I-I-It's beɆ₦ ɎɆ₳Ɽ₴, b-b-but I re₵Ø₲₦łⱫɆ th₳₮ vØł₵Ɇ."
This was unexpected. With the wave of his cane, Alastor's powers begin to turn the clock on the sinner's face, repairing it, piece by piece.
"You've heard of me?"
"Ⱨ₳ve I?" The last bit of machinery and glass push themselves in, the cracks instantly healing. A flash, and a now-complete face graces the screen. The distorted voice disappears, replaced by the voice of an enthusiastic man with a filter similar to Alastor's own. "Why, you're my inspiration!" The sinner's face beams with excitement.
Finally, some proper recognition in this hellhole. Alastor's grin turns into a wide smile. Dare he say, genuine, for once?
"Well, well, well! What a surprise! It's not everyday I come across someone who's heard of me before falling into the pits of Hell! Tell me,"
Alastor helps up the television man and straightens his antenna.
"What do they call you, ol' chum?"
The sinner hesitates. No doubt someone or something had informed him about how sinners tend to change their names upon arriving in Hell.
"…Vox."
A peculiar name.
"Well, Voxy, I know a place with the best drinks this side of town! Let's have a chat and get you settled in, hm?"
With an arm around his shoulder, Alastor leads Vox away. Despite his reservations with the...asset...Hell had so graciously gifted this poor soul as a head, maybe having someone with knowledge about television that he could manipulate wouldn't be so bad.
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ViNTAGE ; DAY TWO RADiOSTATiC WEEK 2024.
the boys are dancing!! alastor would love to dance and i'm sure vox would be absolutely down to dance with him <3
the lyrics are from a song i really enjoy, it's very fitting :3
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