tvdemon | OPEN POST

[ Not now. Not this second, at least. By the end of this conversation, Alastor might very well decide to end it. It's inevitable now, though. If a person learns that they have the want and means to kill you, then they'll try it once. And if they'll try it once, then they will again. And Alastor is aware of that, he can feel the rope of the noose pressed up against his neck, and the more time that goes on, the tighter it will squeeze.

It might not be today, or tomorrow, or even five years from now, but that's the only ending that he can see as long as they stay on this path.

He's not done. ]

So, I asked myself, what is it that we can do to avoid that? At first, I was just content to ignore you. In fact, under any other circumstances, I would have forgotten you by now.

[ He wouldn't have forgotten him entirely, of course. They know each other far too well and have been through far too much for that. Still, it would only take so long for him to fade into the background, thought about but overshadowed by a dozen other matters of importance. Those memories would always be there, those feelings of love and hate, but they'd fade into the background for lack of use.

That's not possible with them, though. He has no more awareness of Vox's signal than he does of the fact that he's still breathing, but it's there. It's there, and like his breathing, the moment he focuses even a bit his full attention is drawn to it.It's the tragedy of sharing the airwaves. ]

But we can't do that, no matter how hard we try.

[ There's plenty of dead space on the airwaves. If he tries to, he can pick up on this and that from different broadcasts to catch them, but it's really just an empty sea. Vox's signal is like a lighthouse. ]

But we can't forget each other. We can't ignore each other. We can't live without each other, but we can't live with each other either.

[ He leans in at length, placing his index finger against the other's chest, just above where his heart would be, an intense stare there, ]

So, what do we do?

[ He can speak now, if he wishes. Whether or not he should speak now is another matter entirely, but he's afforded that opportunity. ]

['But we can't forget each other. We can't ignore each other. We can't live without each other, but we can't live with each other either.'

That really is the conundrum of their dynamic, isn't it? They're intertwined. Not even because Vox keeps seeking Alastor's attention out, but because Alastor's attention exists. Because the two of them will always keep crossing paths and keep crossing swords. Getting along on the same level was a dream Vox once held, a long time ago, but he found out the hard way that wasn't an option. They were the same in some of the best ways, but also different in all those ways that would cause them to clash.

It's odd to him that Alastor wants to avoid the ultimate ending. He'd think the radio demon would be convinced he could win. That from his perspective, Vox would be taken out of the equation and the problem would be solved.

His gaze slides down towards Alastor's finger when it presses against his chest and lingers there for a moment. Then it swerves back up, to that toothy grin that almost seems to glow in the darkness of the swamp. The grin that haunts him, like it belongs to the goddamn Cheshire Cat, just looming up and standing out like a sore thumb in situations where it doesn't belong.

Finally, he looks Alastor right in the eye. A long moment of silence has passed, so apparently, it's expected that he talks now.]

You really wanna avoid that? You wanna find a solution that isn't eternal death?

[There's very much an unspoken 'why' in those questions, full of mistrust. If Alastor's fed up with him, offended by the way he put the city in danger, why spare him at all?]

[ Alastor is quite fickle. There's a system to his behavior, but it's not one that others can understand. There's no reason he should have let a lowly sinner like Sir Pentious continue attacking him. But in his mind, there's nothing odd at all about it. Mercy is the privilege of the strong, and he is nothing if not confident in his own abilities. It's only those who are far beneath him that feel that need to snuff the life out of every child who throws a pebble at them and clumsy buffoon who bumps into them.

Here, too. He knows that he would win, but despite his earlier words, something is still getting in the way.

Alastor doesn't answer the question, but that is in and of itself an answer. He spins on his heel, staff held behind his back, and takes a couple steps away. It's a vulnerable position, but he doesn't feel exposed at all. Front or back, a knife goes in just the same. If he doesn't notice it coming, then that's his own fault. It's no different than how this conversation might prove to be a mistake, because if it's barely anything at all, it's still the first time he's been open about much of anything at all.

He repeats his question: ]

So, what do we do?

[ The temptation to shut him up again is there, because Vox isn't of much good to him if he has no answer, but he'll allow it for now. ]

[Alastor doesn't reply to the question, but that in itself is already an answer. After all, if he didn't mean to avoid the inevitable, why even ask for input? The smartass inside Vox suggests that Alastor could retire, but he knows better than to voice it out loud. Not here, when he's in the radio demon's literal home turf. Not now, after that spectacle that played out with the Might of Lilith. No, he needs to quell that impulse that insists Alastor should just go fuck himself.

They can't keep going the way things have been these past seventy years, because the fire that's been fueling their conflicts has only been growing larger. They can't bring everything to an eternal halt, then. Neither of them will give up on their own ambitions and set off on a different road. They'll be Overlords for as long as they can manage. If Vox had ascended to Heaven, he could've left Alastor behind for a much greater destiny, but that wasn't in the cards either. So what's left?

He's silent for a moment, watching a few fireflies (or facades of them?) in the distant shadows of the woods. His arms cross over his chest, sharp claws digging into the fabric of his sleeves.]

Maybe... We find some other way to deal with all that pent-up fury. Something that's not killing.

[He's thinking of his own fury, since that's most familiar to him. He never did really know how Alastor feels, or if he even feels at all. Though, he is starting to think that he pushed his luck and whatever might've counted as patience has run out. Either way, the root of the problem isn't that they want to kill each other. It was never like that. The root of the problem was the bubbling, white hot emotion that's consumed Vox for all those decades already, growing and escalating and festering. Being rid of the hungry beast isn't an option, but maybe feeding it something else to keep it satisfied is the way to go.]

Your pent up fury. I don't have anything like that.

[ About the past, the futures that never came, all of those things that Alastor thinks of himself as over. After all, it was all for the best. If they'd stayed together, then they eventually would have fallen apart regardless, and by then they might not have been able to maintain anything at all. Maybe one of them would have died in that case. It's impossible to say now. So long as he can believe that, he can swallow down that toxic sludge tries to work its way up every now and again, and so long as he can swallow that down, he can continue to play their little game.

Right now, he's choking on it.

He turns back around once more. ]

I've only ever found you to be annoying.

[ But Vox is right. That is the root of the problem. ]

[Yes yes, Vox's pent up fury. He's very well aware that his own feelings are far stronger than Alastor's. It's shameful and no matter how hard he tries to insist otherwise, it's grown out of his control. Though, even with that admission, he doesn't think Alastor is blameless in all this. The radio demon keeps baiting him, keeps throwing gasoline onto the fire, keeps engaging. He just said it's impossible to ignore Vox, but that in itself raises doubt. Is it impossible, or is Alastor too arrogant to do so?

He scoffs and shakes his head.]

Yeah. Well. It's enough for you to think you'll kill me next time we fight, so it's something to deal with.

[One hand raises upwards to tug at his bowtie for a second. It doesn't need adjusting, but it feels a little too tight. Must be the swamp air, he thinks. Gross humidity.]

Anyway, that's the best idea I got.

[He thinks back to the last time they fought. It was magnificent. Cathartic. Blows exchanged back and forth, damage done to their demon forms, blood splattering over concrete... Their fights had never gone this far, but he quite liked it. He wonders what would've happened if he hadn't called Shok.wav for backup. If it'd been just the two of them, with no one else to interfere or even spectate. They could've kept at it for hours, probably, until the both of them were broken and bleeding and exhausted.]

[ He taps his staff against the ground now, placing both hands on it as he leans forward a tad, tapping the microphone with one index finger. Next time. That would need to be the end of it. He wouldn't allow Vox to call for help. He would eliminate any obstacles, and the Vees most of all. It's been tiring to have to hold back. It was like having someone constantly push their way into his conversations, but having to be so polite as to not tell them to leave.

It's caused nothing but trouble over time, too. He has to take half the responsibility for that fiasco before their deal, but he'd been too busy trying to handle his little pet to notice what he was doing. ]

Fine. Then how do we keep you from throwing a tantrum every other week?

[ If that's the crux of the issue. Alastor wouldn't know anything about concepts like "emotional regulation" or "moving on," being completely incapable of both and in fact refusing to do the latter at nearly all times. ]

[Vox doesn't know about any of the psychology either. He only knows how to use the term 'venting' semi-correctly because of the internet's use for it. What he's keenly aware of is that lashing out, that becoming blind to his surroundings and focusing all his energy on a single target in one grand explosion, feels like a natural approach. Like opening a tea kettle's spout proper to let the steam out, instead of forcing it through a tiny whistle so that pressure builds. He doesn't think about whether it's healthy, he only thinks that it helps.]

I dunno. Fight without the killing? And I don't mean playfighting, I mean the real deal. Going all out. That's still pretty easy to do, seein' as there's not much that can finish the job.

[His hands go back to squeezing his upper arms as he imagines sharp fingertips slashing along Alastor's smug face, drawing blood. Could be nice. Could keep him satisfied for a while.]

[ He taps his finger several more times as he considers the idea. It goes back to his original problem of that no longer seeming a viable option. Besides, Alastor thinks they would both get bored of it at some point or another. But to say that would just send them running around in circles, and so he puts a pin in that idea for now. He'll let himself think on it.

In the meantime, he might as well offer something else. ]

Hm... Well, then, [ He cants his head. ] I know what it is that I want to do.

[ It's something that he's thought on for a long time, but to say that it was a want would be too strong. Even now, it might be, but it's an enthralling idea. ]

[That's not a 'no', Vox concludes. Whether it'd be a good long long-term solution, he doesn't know, but he's willing to wager that it'd sate until they found something better. Or until one of them got taken out of the equation by some external factor, like a vengeful angel or lord knows what else could happen. 'Hell is forever' until it isn't.

Seems like Alastor isn't sold on it. Has something else in mind. Once again, Vox has to wonder why his opinion was even asked at all, then. His brow furrows and there's a touch of impatience in his response:]

Oh yeah? What's that?

[ Well, he had been hoping that Vox could offer something better. Something that Alastor hadn't thought of as he meticulously went down his list. ]

Well, it's a bit complicated, but I want you to listen until the end without making a fuss. Can you promise me that?

[ Tap, tap, tap... That tone has a warning in it, but also an offer. He's willing to let Vox away now, to leave Alastor to muddle while feeling that he's only come back around to where he started. And if he doesn't now, the media overlord will be his captive audience until he's finished.

But this is the real reason he brought him here. He wanted to reach a decision, and he has. ]

[It's an ominous request for sure. If Alastor expects it to happen- wants him to promise not to- it means there's something coming that's worthy of making 'a fuss' about. In other words, something that Vox is either going to hate, or going to enjoy so much he'll get carried away by the delight.

It just makes him more curious what that would be.]

Sure. I'll dial it back.

[He hears the tone, understands that slipping up will have consequences, but he can control himself if he puts in the effort. What are those decades of experience with masking for, if not situations like this? Yep, he'll absolutely not make a fool of himself.]

Good.

[ It's an unpleasant conversation, and he doesn't trust Vox to keep his mouth shut throughout it all. He also doesn't trust him not to cause any issues, however ill-advised that would be. If the Vee Tower were a fortress, then this might be akin to a beast's lair. It's something that changes with his whims.

But, until he does, he has the right to hospitality. Alastor does believe in proper etiquette, after all. ]

I've decided that I would like to kill you after all. Not permanently, of course - that would defeat the entire purpose of looking for an alternative solution. But enough to be free of you for awhile.

[ Buckle up, Vox, because it's only going to get worse from here. However little he's acted the part around the other man over the years, he is still the radio demon, after all. ]

[That... is not too bad in Vox's opinion. He's not in charge of Voxtek right now, not really on proper speaking terms with the other two Vees. If he were to vanish right this second, his absence would be noted and the company might make some slip-ups without his behind-the-scenes guidance, but would he really be missed? Both Velvette and Valentino are arrogant enough to think they can fare without his active participation, and he expects they'll stick to those guns for a good long while.

His chest deflates with the release of a sigh. Not through his mouth, but through the vents in his torso. His facial expression barely changes. It's humiliating to be 'killed' by Alastor without getting to repay the favor, and it sure won't quell that fury of his, but... Maybe it'd be nice, not having to think about anything for a while. Not existing in that sense. Maybe he'll wake up feeling refreshed for once, as opposed to dreading the day ahead of him. So he's not going to fight it.]

Okay. Sure.

[ If it were just that, it might not be so bad. They've known each other long enough that Alastor should treat him to a death that's excruciatingly painful, but quick. His talk of using Vox for his radio broadcast was always an empty threat.

But - ]

I'm not done.

[ He presses his index finger against Vox's chest, then gives a small push with it. He promised to listen until the end, and now he has no choice but to. But if he keeps quiet, this should prove to be a quick and painless affair. And once Alastor has had his fill, he can send Vox along on his merry way without doing any actual harm to him... Well, probably, anyway. ]

I'll tell you when I am.

['There's more?' is the most prevalent thought to course through Vox's head, and it takes every inch of willpower he has not to give that thought a voice. He doesn't know what else there would even be to add to all that. Does Alastor plan to eat his body afterwards? Vox isn't sure he'd mind. He's never 'died' to such a degree, so he's not sure how he'd come back from that, but... sinners do come back, one way or another. That'd be one way to find out. And all his hardware might just give Alastor a bad case of indigestion- or worse.

Yeah. He'd be fine with it.

He gives Alastor's finger a dirty look. It's hypocrisy at its finest to keep jabbing and prodding at Vox after that grand creep proclamation in front of all of Hell. Even so, he doesn't speak.]

[ It is unfair, but he's being very deliberate about it now. Today, he's decided that he's allowed to treat Vox as he please, just as Vox did as he pleased the entire time Alastor was in his care.

Still, he draws his hand back in response to that look. He takes a handful of steps back instead. His staff his held behind his back, and he leans forward. ]

Have you forgotten who I am?

[ He stands straight back up. ]

You see, I changed my mind awhile back on letting you guest star on my show. I want something private, so that I can enjoy myself to the fullest. I don't need you to break on me, either, or at least not that much. I think a chip or two would do quite nicely.

[ He speaks swiftly, not allowing any time for the words to process, before finally allowing a moment for the implications of that to set in. Vox could very well be the first person to learn a few of his trade secrets. Wouldn't that be lucky? ]

[Vox's eyes go from narrowed to widened. At the exact same time, the thin line of his mouth opens. No words come out at first. Killing is one thing, but what Alastor's suggesting now... Is he talking about torture? Not even just dealing a few blows or cuts like in a fight, but something far more severe?

The agreement not to interrupt is out the window, because this is another one of those things that has him jumping into the defensive. He's not panicked, but he is pushing back because if anything, he's a little offended.]

Hey, wait! What the hell is that supposed to mean?!

[ This is about as far as he expected to get before the other man started having a fit. He had already considered that, too. No answer comes, because Alastor doesn't much feel like repeating himself and Vox is going to do his best to derail this conversation one way or another. He has no doubt already come up with an answer to his own question.

Go on. He'll wait. ]

Edited 2026-01-13 17:54 (UTC)

[Vox has a myriad of possible answers, some more gorey than the next, but that doesn't mean he has the actual answer answer. Imagination is a powerful thing, especially when asked to conjure up the unknown. That in itself is what unsettles him. If he knew what to expect, he might be a whole lot less alarmed.

He tries again, approaching it from a less demanding, more docile angle. It comes complete with a weak smile. ]

What uhh... What're you thinking there, Al...?

[ That sin sister smile in response to the question. Vox would get his answers much quicker if he didn't waste time with questions, but he'll forgive the more polite approach. ]

Just as I said. I want to break you a little bit - call it torture if you'd like - and then I want to kill you. When you revive, I want to do the same thing again. I've only tried it once or twice before, and I grew bored of it quickly, but I'm sure we could make it work for at least century or two.

[ His expression doesn't change, the words have that perfect mix of his usual cheer and blatant madness, but his ears lay flat somewhere early on during his answer. They stay pinned back even as he awaits whatever dramatic response that threat will draw out.

He doesn't think that he'd get bored of Vox after that, and he's being far too generous in terms of how long the affair could last. Even if he tried to make it last, it would be like repeatedly tearing open a teddy bear to pull its stuffing out, then stuffing it back in before sewing it up. Eventually, there wouldn't be enough left to hold it together. There's really no such thing as endless torture in that way. ]

[The elaboration fills in a few blanks, and while Vox already doesn't like it, there's one aspect in particular he rejects. It's the 'again' portion. 'A century or two'. How is that fair? Vox is meant to suffer till he hits a certain breaking point and ceases to live, only to come back and suffer all over again? For what? How does that help him? It's just going to make him feel Some Way about Alastor even more.

His teeth bare themselves and his shoulders hunch. Like hell is he going to let himself get turned into a helpless victim! He wants to shout, wants to lash out, wants to get it through Alastor's thick skull by force. But he can't, because he's in the radio demon's domain and likely to get beaten down as soon as he loses his temper. So it's with every shred of self-control he still has left that he settles on a grumble instead.]

That's not gonna work for me, you selfish son of a bitch. Not unless the tables get turned every so often.

[If it were a push and pull sort of thing, he'd consider it. But this sounds like it's only pulling; tearing him apart bit by bit.]

[ His ears perk back up. He shakes his head and he lifts his hands in a what can you do gesture before his hands move behind his back again. As he thought, now that he's let him start, the other is just going to make a scene.

It sounds like it's pulling him apart bit by bit because that's precisely what Alastor wants to do. ]

You see, this is why I told you to keep quiet. Let's fix that first, hm?

[ And just as he says that, Vox might find that his systems are starting to get scrambled. It's hard to say by what, given how sensitive technology can be, but there's certainly something.

And maybe his mute button will just get toggled. ]

[Vox would ask what Alastor means by that, but isn't given the chance to. The effect on his systems is immediately noticeable and worrying. Nearly all of his muscles freeze. The only exception is his neck, which whips at an awkward angle as Vox's head is thrown back for a moment. His screen glitches and in those few seconds, he's convinced a complete system failure is incoming.

It's not, though. The scramble passes, at least for now, and his body unlocks itself. As he stands up straight again, his mouth moves in a completely inaudible "what the fuck". Followed by another "what the FUCK" when he realizes not a single sound came from him. His hands go to his chest, then to his screen.

Yep. He's muted. There's a tiny symbol in the bottom right corner of his TV to indicate it.]

[ Oh, that is satisfying to see. In fact, it's even better than the first time around. It's almost enough to make him feel better about this conversation. Not quite, but almost. ]

Better.

[ A black tentacle seeps out from the ground, weaving up and down like a massive tree root. He plops down on it once it passes by him, crossing one leg over the other. He rests his elbow on his thigh, leaning his chin into his palm and tilting it back and forth as he hums a bit. ]

You're in my house, with my rules; in my room, with my tools... 𝅘𝅥𝅮

[ It's not the primary reason behind this, but it sure is satisfying to be able to pay him back for muzzling him. ]

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this may or may not escalate real fast

Welcome to Escalator Land!

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