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Ah, I see! Interesting!

So which "side" are you typically assigned to: prosecution or defense?

The defense. [ She answers fairly readily, though a part of her looks back now and wonders what it would have been like, to assist the opposite side. She almost found out. ]

...Do you have some experience with the courts, Alastor? [ In life or otherwise? But if people are in hell, judgement has already been passed, hasn't it? ]

A bit. Never stood before a judge myself, but I likely would've been the defendant if I had been.

[Very casual.]

Oh? [ Just as casually-- ] And what would have been your crime?

Murder.

[Just gonna be super chill about dropping that bombshell.]

. . .

[ They are still speaking in hypotheticals, aren't they? Susato tilts her head, and she may have put some distance in between them, though this maybe wasn't as much of a dealbreaker as it should have been. ] Who? Why?

[Sorry, Susato. No hypotheticals to be found here.]

Who? Many people. The term for what I was hadn't even been invented yet.

As for why, well, Old Nawlins was a beautiful city that covered up quite a lot of ugliness back then. The strong preying on the weak more or less openly but no one saying a word because of their connections. [His grin sharpens into a sneer.] Even now, it makes me sick to see it.

[He studies Susato's face.]

When your father and I talked before, I told him that there was something wrong with me: I'm a monster that enjoys the kill. I knew I was already destined for the bad afterlife. [His grin turns less nasty and more pleased.] So I decided I'd take as many of my fellow monsters down with me as I could.

[ If there had been any doubt, it was gone in an instant. In a flash, they moved past the hypothetical, though if Alastor was expecting her to freak out, he can keep waiting. Her stomach drops at the familiarity of his words, like she's heard them all before, and for a moment, the world seems to pass her by.

The temperature drops, and the crown of irises she wears on her head seems to droop slightly.

He's talking about New Orleans. But in her mind, she can only see Great Britain. ]

You... You are New Orleans' very own Reaper.

[ Even as she says that, however, something doesn't fit quite right. There's something wrong with me. I'm a monster that enjoys the kill. She's never met Hyde, but that only allows her mind to fill in the blanks the only way she knows how. She still remembers the cold look Kazuma gave her when he laughed, the stifling air of the greenhouse. She shivers, taking another step back. ]

[Alastor closes his eyes and shakes his head.]

No, I'm not. [He pauses.] Well, I suppose given we both had murder as a hobby and neither of us was ever caught, you could call me that, but I'm not too fond of the comparison. "Saucy Jack" killed prostitutes and liked to brag about what he did. I only started showing off when I reached Hell and there was no court system to worry about. Why hide your misdeeds if you're already burning in Hell?

If nothing else, it made my message easier to understand when I didn't have to be subtle anymore.

[Alastor then looks at her, seeing that she's put distance between them. Ah, there it is: the fear. Just like back in Hell when even those with nothing to fear from him fled his presence.]

[The people he's told so far haven't said anything, but...how much longer until it was all over town? He'd never hid the fact that he was a demon straight from Hell, but once they knew the bulk of the reason for his eternal damnation? Well, likely he'd be seeing the streets clear out every time he stepped outside.]

[Sooner or later, this would stop being his "weekend pass". Perhaps he should start hunting for real estate farther away from town while he still had time to get it properly settled.]

[ At some point, he lost her. She doesn't look like she's about run, though, she's just probably not going to be cozying up to him in a dance anytime soon, and she's clearly not comfortable.

This distance... This is probably what Kazuma expected, when she found out. Suddenly she understands, better than before. And after taking a moment to process Alastor's words, maybe it isn't so confusing. ]

And what you are telling me now... Is this not bragging?

You say you think something is wrong with you, yet you seem proud of your vigilante justice.

You asked me "why", so I told you.

[He chuckles.]

I don't regret my kills, no. But I told myself that if I was ever found out, I wouldn't hide a thing. Consider it respect for your profession, I suppose.

I don't regret my kills, but I know something is wrong with me because I should. What human being can kill another without feeling at least a shred of remorse?

Still, that isn't to say I don't have regrets. As I told your father, I regret disappointing my Creator and those I personally knew who thought so well of me.

[ Respect isn't the first word that would have come to her mind, but he is being honest, so maybe he's right. ]

. . . If you have regrets, then stop.

Even if it is not the killing, you still feel regret when it comes to your Creator and those close to you. It's not too late.

So hold onto that, and stop.

I have stopped since coming here. I haven't killed a single one of our neighbors, I assure you, though I can understand if you don't trust me.

[He gives a small smile.]

But regardless once I'm forced to wake from this dream world we're in, I'll be going back to Hell to serve the rest of my sentence. [A little shrug.] Eternal damnation isn't a sentence that can be appealed with good behavior, I'm afraid.

Edited 2022-05-10 01:29 (UTC)

[ Give him the "not as big a jerk as you could have been (in Songerein)" award. No, Alastor is right, she certainly won't trust him, but she doesn't have to, to want to know more.

She asks the question that she'd been too afraid to ask Kazuma. ]

How many monsters did you take with you? [ Before he died. How many? ]

[Look, he's a huge jerk. He's a massive narcissist and he won't deny it.]

...More than enough to earn my place in Hell.

[He's not sure an exact number would make her feel better or more terrified. And, honestly, he doesn't want to completely lose what little camaraderie they'd had before. He's selfish like that.]

[Plus all the people he'd slaughtered in Hell...]

[ His refusal to answer might make her unease a little worse. That lets her imagine fill in the blank with whatever number she'd like. 4? 7? 108?

But maybe she doesn't actually need to know. ]

And then what? What happens to those who are slaughtered there? It doesn't stop. It is just a cycle of misery. [ Hence: Hell. Though it hits her a moment too late before she can say it. ]

If you mean those who are slaughtered in Hell, well, unless you take certain precautions, they regenerate. Could take a few days, a few weeks, or even months depending on how they "died" in Hell. The only way to permanently kill a Sinner in Hell is via angelic magic or weaponry.

And when killed that way, well, we go to the void. And what happens there, no one knows.

[He chuckles.]

It's Hell, my dear. It's the ultimate prison for those who commit heinous acts. It's supposed to be a "cycle of misery". I knew exactly what was waiting for me when I killed that first time: It only takes one mistake to damn someone for eternity.

[Which was why he'd chosen to just keep killing, targeting those like him: He was already damned, so why not?]

[ She feels as empty as a void. So much of what he's saying feels beyond her: angelic magic? Weaponry? But in the end, she does shake her head with surprising conviction. ]

That may be Hell as everyone understands it, but I simply can't accept that. That the world can be so unforgiving... That isn't justice.

That cycle of misery changes nothing, certainly nothing about you or the others you've targeted. Perhaps that is why you are here, in this world of dreams. It sounds like it has already changed you.

That might be the ways of your world, my dear, but not mine.

[He gives a polite, mirthless chuckle.]

All this place has done is give me an incentive not to indulge in my bad habits. But sooner or later I'll be forced to wake up and, as I said before, I'll be back in Hell.

Perhaps this idyllic little world will prove to be a new form of punishment. My old ones were starting to get a bit dull and tedious, after all!

[ She wonders if that incentive refers to something specific that she doesn't know about yet, but before she can ask, another word sticks out to her more.

(Also the distant thought that she may never want to wake up. But that's terrible and selfish and she pushes that to the back of her mind. ]

Does it... feel like punishment? [ Being here? Getting to enjoy flowers? A festival? Free rent? ]

Oh no! Not at all! I quite enjoy this place and the lovely people in it!

However, I used to know someone who returned home and later came back before leaving for good. He said that this world was like the memory of a dream, not quite real.

[He looks to the flowers, musing for a moment.] Which do you believe to be the worse nightmare, Miss Susato: the awful torments one's subconscious can conjure but waking to a world that might not be perfect but at least you can be content with...or the pleasant dream of a pleasant little town with good and interesting neighbors that ends with you waking in a world that is designed to do nothing but torture you for all eternity?

[Because in Alastor's mind, the latter is far, far crueler. A false hope, a fleeting happiness. When he'd first arrived in Hell, after his bloody debut, he'd dreamt of home only to wake up to eternal torment.]

[His sleep schedule became far, far more infrequent after that.]

[ "Not quite real." Susato winces, knowing that he isn't wrong. Despite the horrors she has seen though, it feels like this world has given her so much. She refuses to believe that it will all mean nothing, like he seems to implying, though it also helps that she knows she won't be waking up in Hell. ]

You've already made up your mind about which is worse.

[ Even if Susato did disagree, she wasn't about to change his mind now, no matter how she answered. ]

I understand your point, but I can't live like that. Like dreams don't matter. They do. [ Dandelions pop into her hands like the weeds they are, though it's happened frequently enough that it doesn't shock her anymore. Among the yellow blooms lie their seeds, though they are already drifting away like dust. ] The fact that they end someday, that we may forget, makes it all the more important to hold onto what we have.

Maybe I could yet be convinced.

[He turns to grin at her.]

So, Miss Judicial Assistant, present your argument!

[He's trying to cover his real emotions back up. Such moments of weakness are pathetic. Unbecoming a demon such as himself.]

[ She looks shocked for a moment. In some cases, she still introduced herself as such, but in reality, she hasn't been a judicial assistant in months. Then she looks rather nostalgic as she forces a very light laugh.

She does miss the courtroom. ]

I would need evidence for that, and I'm afraid my feelings don't count. All I can say is that your friend leaving is but one version of events. Even if the tapir agree... Even if there are a thousand more who say the same, it could be the 1001st that is different.

Maybe you will be the first to remember this place, and all the bonds you've made. Maybe you don't think you deserve to remember, or... perhaps it would just be easier for you if you didn't.

["Maybe you don't think you deserve to remember". Was she acknowledging that he'd accepted his punishments? Or something else?]

[Regardless, his ear flicks with uncertainty.]

I'm not sure if remembering would be better or worse.

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