songerein | The Informant

Who: Tobias and Alastor
Which: Closed Log
Where: The forest/Alastor's place
What: Tobias has questions, and ironically the radio demon seems likely to keep his mouth shut.
Warnings: Probably talk of PTSD and war in here. Also hunting, and cannibalism is likely to show up.

Tobias has questions. A lot of questions, actually. He needs information about this place, and the weird demon (alien?) seemed willing enough to provide it. So why not try him? ... A bunch of reasons, up to and including "demons aren't real", "if they are real you shouldn't make a deal with them", and "if you're going to give a present to a demon, what do you even bring?". But eventually Tobias settles on a course of action. He waits until he can see Alastor go off to do... something.

And then he goes off to execute his plan.

He morphs in the woods to Hork-Bajir, setting off for where he'd seen deer. It doesn't take long for him to take one down, considering that he jumps on it from the tops of the trees and brings down a wrist blade into its neck. The head severs from the neck cleanly, and the rest of the herd scatters.

Tobias drags it back to Alastor's place, sets it nearby, and demorphs. There's no cameras here (he's pretty sure) so he's safe. ... He thinks. But either way he's done it, and he perches on a tree nearby to wait for Alastor to come back. ... It's a good thing he already ate, since that deer would make him very hungry.

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There was a heavy moment of realization. Good Creator Above, this hawk sounded like a child and he'd been tortured...?

"Multiple times," Alastor said. "My last ninety years could be considered that -- it isn't called 'Eternal Torment' for nothing -- but my living existence had some dark moments I'd rather not go into detail about. And that isn't even getting into what the old frayed wires come up with when my mind decides to drift."

He hesitated on answering the question.

<That's fair. You don't have to talk about anything you don't want to. ... But yeah. It's... I don't know what to do. The other person from my world - she knows some of how bad it got but... I don't want her to have to find out how bad it really was.>

She knows enough to be worried. She knows Tobias has issues with it, that he came out of it... somehow broken. She knows that it left him with complicated feelings about his captor.

But he's never told her exactly what he saw, how badly it rattled him. How much even his old memories could still affect him. That life was before they met. The boy who lived it is gone. In his place is a predator, someone who has to kill to survive.

... But he doesn't know how to deal with it. He has no one to ask - no one he can trust to answer without worrying about him. Maybe a demon won't care, but... maybe he at least knows something that can help.

Alastor was a dangerous monster, an unrepentant killer. He took great pleasure in crushing those who would take advantage of those of fairer means.

However, he wasn't without feeling. He'd taken children under his proverbial wing here in Reverein. He'd made friends with adults of similar mindset even if others found his methodology to be gruesome at times.

Still, it never failed to disgust him just how many worlds would treat their children so shoddily. Child soldiers seemed to be disturbingly popular in the multiverse.

"I'm afraid I can't give you an answer. Not because I don't want to but because I have no solid answer." He straightened up and rested his hands in his lap. "I deal with it by not dealing with it."

<... O... oh.>

He was hoping for an answer - he's not sure what to do without one. He looks away, trying to not stare the demon down and also to try to gather his thoughts.

<I guess it wouldn't make sense to ask you if you know who could answer, because you probably would have asked them. It's just... if people can stumble into nightmares here, I don't want her to have to run into mine.>

He just wants her to be safe, to be as okay as possible. He knows she's not okay, but there's differing levels of okay...

"Honestly, if I did know someone in that position, I wouldn't have asked them. Admitting you need help is a second, far more permanent death sentence in Hell. Besides, any of the therapists and psychiatrists you might find down there are typically not good people. No, the best 'mental health' treatment down there is to either bury yourself in some vice that will alter your mental state to where whatever haunts you can't touch you or find distractions to keep your mind too busy to ruminate. Neither, I admit, is an optimal option.

"But I can offer you this suggestion in trying to avoid having nightmares someone might stumble into: Wear yourself out before you sleep. If your body and brain are exhausted enough, your mind won't have the energy to torment you during your rest. No dreams means no dreamwalkers stumbling in. However, I can't guarantee your friend won't notice."

<I'm not into vices.> He answers quickly, maybe... too quickly. His uncle... he doesn't want to end up like that guy. Gross and drunk and uncaring... no. He'd rather not.

<Wearing myself out I can do. It's not hard when I can't really go to the store to get dinner and have to catch my own. ... But she deserves better than my dreams.>

He's never had good dreams. They've only gotten worse as things have gone on, and it feels like he's trapped in them sometimes. No, Rachel should have something nicer than that. He closes his eyes for a few moments before opening them again. <I... I just want her to be happy.>

Alastor tapped his claws thoughtfully.

"Wearing yourself out isn't a guarantee. Sometimes your mind might recharge just enough energy to torment you. All it does is reduce the chance.

"But it might be possible to brew something to deepen your sleep. Nothing mind-altering, I assure you. Things like valerian root, lavendar, and chamomile. I had a rather mild blend to help myself sleep periodically when I was alive. Working the night shift for years did not help with insomnia when I moved to day shift."

That and his particularly bloody hobby kept him up some nights.

"I'd need to ensure they're not poisonous to avians. Plus I could test out a stronger brew on myself to make sure there aren't any adverse reactions. I've had enough of my dreams broadcast to everyone that they typically recognize when it's a dream of mine and leave right away. Nobody wants to see Hell."

<... I'd appreciate that. I don't know much about herbs or teas or stuff like that. Every so often I get an urge for things that I know aren't suitable for birds... I usually morph for that stuff.>

He wants a cheeseburger every once in a while. Sue him.

<Just don't get yourself hurt on my account.>

"Lucky for you, not only am I incredibly familiar with rootwork but it's incredibly hard to permanently kill a demon. Even if I manage to poison myself, I'll just be sick for a few hours at worst before I shake it off. I just need to ensure I'm not poisoning you."

His grin widened.

"Perhaps if you're feeling adventurous when you 'morph', you'd like to try some jambalaya! Nothing untoward in the ingredients, I assure you, but it's got a spicy kick right out of Hell!"

After a chuckle at the thought, he grinned at Tobias.

"Regardless, in exchange for figuring out and brewing this tea for you, I've one thing to ask of you in return: When you're out hunting, keep an eye out and make note of places where noctaere, red hats, or any of the other nasty little creatures may be setting up nests. It'd be quite helpful in keeping them away from the town and the people we care about. I keep an eye out when I do my own regular hunting, but I can't cover as wide a range as you can with those wings of yours."

<I'll keep that in mind.> He isn't sure what 'rootwork' is, but maybe some kind of magic? <But yeah, never tried that. Usually the spiciest thing I had growing up was really garlicky noodles with tomato sauce or something like that.>

Please don't kill him with spice, Alastor.

But the request has him chuckling mentally. He was already planning on doing that - checking for other predators is only natural for him. <I'll let you know what I find. Between the two of us, we should be able to clear out a lot.>

The Informant | Closed

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