#damnablesouls

@damnablesouls

▹ @damnablesouls (Pixel) liked for a starter.

Years of avoidance had left him relatively hesitant to return, hooved feet feeling heavy as they trod over cracked pavement and stone, long since neglected of any semblance of care or maintenance. The air felt thick with the smell of smoke and the acrid mix of soot and what he knew to be the sticky, cloying scent of blood. It ran in old, dried rivulets against the shattered ground, the streets no longer resembling what they had been decades before, replaced by sinkholes that swallowed the urban sprawl of the area that once was.

Alastor was not here to wax poetic about the state of the district, however, his dead gaze washing over the ruptured horizon where the crags far in the distance were hidden behind the crumbled remains of tall building and jagged skyline. No, he was here for a specific purpose, his stride taking him down one particularly suburban street - or what had once resembled something suburban. Now, it only looked as the rest of the Doomsday District did - scarred territory that had been squabbled over since his abandonment of the entire zone, his lack of desire to maintain it as his own bringing forth a long age of anarchy and descent into an effective war zone. Even now, his ears lifted to he sounds of explosions and gunfire not far in the distance, though the radio demon exhibited no fear.

His eyes traveled from building to building, searching for the small, homely structure that he had known as his own base of operations, long before he had been roped into the schemes of the Princess and her subsequent bid to ferry sinners onto the path to redemption. It was a shotgun-style house, not unlike one he had known in his living years, only standing out due to the large, metallic structure that had jut from its roof; an iconic silhouette imposing among the sky in the form of the radio tower that had carried his signal across the city in his heyday.

Now, that structure was destroyed, the only sign that it had been there at all a few metal beams which remained poised atop the house's roof, reaching upwards towards the clouds in its final death rattle. Alastor had come to collect a few things from the house itself, knowing that the longer he waited to do so, the more likely it would be that someone would get uppity enough to finally bypass their concerns over his retribution and loot the place. He would not risk losing some of his older possessions to an upstart overlord with the audacity.

But as he neared the house in question, the sounds of calamity grew louder; harder to ignore, his step halting for the moment as a scene unfolded on the other end of the long walkway. His eyes narrowed as he tried to make out exactly what was occurring so close to where he aimed to go -

It was likely he would not have to squint for very long. Because that very same commotion was rather rapidly making its way towards him, either intentionally or unintentionally.

The radio demon would hold his ground nonetheless, his red hair buffeted by the oncoming winds that billowed from the collision of what he presumed to be power.

"Hey Ozzie-.." eyebrow wiggles

"Sweetie, I don't just go around EATING random people."

Pops the seal. Chugs it.

"Hm. Not bad! Wouldn't mind it mixed with some champagne and blood orange juice. A qunari bomb shot if you will."

@damnablesouls said: " Here you go. " Vaggie waved a half torn chew toy belonging to angel dust's pet pig at Helsa. " Chew on this and hush. "