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[alasterwhyte-blog]

Alaster had never really had enemies. The logic behind that was the fact that he knew that no one would ever really defeat him. He knew he had the ability to haunt, to strike fear into souls without even so much as saying a word. The only struggle he really faced was his personal battle against time and its repercussions. Over the years he relied on his cane a little more than he would have wanted to admit and getting up was an effort more than anything. His brain hadn’t slowed however, he was still on the grand path to ultimate enlightenment. The Voodoo King was so close to really perfecting his idea for armies of undead and once that was finished he knew that immortality would follow; it had to found somehow. 

On any usual night Alaster slept with a perfect stillness and didn’t move until he woke up the next morning. However the night was an unusual one and something stirred him;once moved his eyes couldn’t help but open.

Without glasses life was a blur, but even though the haze he knew exactly who was standing over him. A face dotted in freckles and red hair never as fiery as all the other red heads he’d ever known. He liked to put that down to his own ability to dampened her poor, defeatist spirits. Emilie Cross had been the meekest and most innocent little soul he’d come across in his time as Voodoo King. She was good, truly good and there wasn’t a moment where he chose to rethink that. Her heart was pure and he supposed that he was one of the better judges of her character because of his own alliance within the eternal divide between good and evil. The sight of Emilie Cross in his bedroom in the dead of night did not make him fearful, in truth his first reaction was just quiet yawn. Had she come back to exact her revenge? Maybe. Had she come prepared? Definitely. Would she win? Of course not.

Alaster moved an apparently restrained hand to grab his glasses, looking up through squinted eyes to his own wrist tied to his bed frame. What was her plan? Was she here to kill him? If Alaster saw any sign of that he knew his fight or flight instinct would most certainly allow him to snap whatever rope she felt was strong enough to hold him.

“--What an odd way of marking your return, fi.” By the he’d come to his full senses and realized the whole situation his other hand had been tied too. He still wasn’t too concerned about the scene, his years of violence and torture had made him far too desensitized to danger. Even with his hands tied above his head, in the midst of a girl with every reason in the world to kill him he didn’t have that certain fear that he’d felt and saw in all of his victims eyes. Fear was something that plagued humans and those that lived on a mortal realm within any sort of power or point to them. Alaster Whyte did not fear; he was fear. He was the man who’s face was chiseled into the furthest reaches of your brain labelled nightmare. He was the fear that the night brought, an inconceivable uneasiness that left you clinging to any light you could find. 

“Tell me-- Seeing as you’ve broken into my home and restrained me, what is your plan, Emilie? I’m very curious to know, because the only outcome I can truly see here is you never seeing the sun rise again.”

For Love of Good

     It’d taken almost 10 years for Emilie to be able to walk by the Shallow Water Apartments without having a panic attack. Even now, seeing the building still managed to get her heart racing, and she usually had to focus on some distant spot on the horizon to distract herself when she passed by it. Now, however, she didn’t have the luxury of being able to pick up her pace, or choose some alternative route; this time, it was exactly where she needed to be. 

     She’d dreamt of this day for years. Hundreds of thousands of different scenarios passed through her mind, both assuring and discouraging her about what was yet to come. As she stared up at the building, she was reminded of each and every single one, and for a brief moment she thought it might be best to simply go back home and forget the whole thing. But she’d worked too hard and for too long, and suffered too much to simply chicken out now. She wasn’t the same, frightened little girl that she’d been ten years ago when she ran away. She was stronger now, both in knowledge and character, and she wouldn’t let the nightmares of her past pollute the possibilities of her future. They had already taken up too much of her time. 

     In her backpack she had everything she needed to fix what had to be fixed, and she clung to it tightly as she entered the building. There was an eerie familiarity to the halls of the apartment, and as she neared His room, she couldn’t help feel nauseated. Every memory was coming back with a sickening speed. However, now that she knew that there was no turning back, the memories served to fuel the fire that had begun burning in her heart. It ended now. 

     She knew he’d be asleep by now. One would think that a Voodoo King would be up into the late hours of the morning practicing his magic, but Alaster had always been strict about his sleeping schedule. All the better for her. Using a key that Marilyn had given her (certified to be able to open any door, no matter what), she opened the door to Alaster’s apartment slowly, so that she was sure to prevent even the smallest of noises. Though the room was pitch black, she could tell that some things had been rearranged, though overall it looked relatively the same. She navigated around the furniture, making sure to watch her step and avoid bumping into anything, and stopped once she’d gotten to his room. 

     Her heart was pounding so loudly she thought it might burst out of her chest. She took several deep breaths to calm herself, then slowly, very slowly, opened the door to his room. His sleeping figure was silhouetted in the moonlight, and though he as at his most vulnerable, he still seemed just as deadly to her as he had the night that she ran away. She couldn’t make out his features very well, but it was clear by the new peppering of silver in his hair that he’d been aging as well. Approaching him slowly, she watched him for a short while to make sure that he was truly asleep, then she shrugged her backpack off of her shoulder and pulled out a length of rope. She stood over him, trying to figure out how best to go about this. If she moved him, there was a strong possibility that he’d wake up, and she didn’t want to imagine what would happen if he did before she restrained him. Taking one last, deep, breath, she carefully grabbed one of his wrists with a feather light touch, gauging every second to see if he was stirring. Eventually she managed to pull it up to the headboard, where she made quick work of tying a sturdy knot around it and his wrist. As soon as she was done with the first, she hurried over to the other side of the bed and began tying up his other hand; she wanted to finish before he woke up and had the energy to fight back. 

[alasterwhyte-blog]

Barton Hollow was a town of the undead if you knew how to talk to them. It was still in it's very early stages of course but Alaster had been working very hard on his project and with that came a lot of extra hours in a place that most would call inhospitable. No one liked graveyards because it reminded them of their definite mortality, providing they were human of course. But not Alaster, all he could see was the world of possibility that lay six feet under his shiny Italian leather loafers. "It's not so cruel if you can see what lies on the other side." He'd spotted her a few graves over and didn't hesitate in gravitating towards her, it was polite to check in. "How are you, Madeline? Visiting someone?"

Madeline felt a tinge of guilt as she moved past a patch of crumbling, unkempt graves, long forgotten by the ones who buried them. Faded names, chipped stones, cracked surfaces; life erasing them slowly but surely from history. It was saddening to think that one day her own grave would look like this. Autumn’s grave would look like this. Perhaps anonymity would be a good thing, after all who in this world truly knew her, knew the real Madeline Ainsworth? “So this is the end, how cruel” she muttered, not realising the being within close proximity to her.

[alasterwhyte-blog]

Alaster watched his creation with keen eyes. Emilie had always and would always be the more polite of the pair and he was okay with that. In an ideal world of course he would eventually teach, by harsh means or not, what it was to keep civility in everyday life. She was a monster after all, he couldn't expect too much. The Voodoo King got up from his seat across the café and strode over to her, his cane tapping against the floor to match every footfall. "Does part time work pay well, mons?" Alaster asked, his eyes moving up to meet her own, a smirk playing on his lips. 

All Autumn wanted to do was sit in silence at the café with a coffee that would undoubtedly grow cold — she wasn’t the biggest fan of caffeine, truthfully, but she had to purchase something — and read a book, but the table was so hideously dirty that she couldn’t manage to rest before it was clean. She waited a moment, surveying the scene to figure out whether an employee was heading over to do the job. Far too impatient to wait longer than a few seconds, she let out a sigh and reached over to grab a few napkins from the table’s dispenser, promptly rubbing at the surface — albeit rather aggressively — without missing a beat. “Fine,” she muttered under her breath. “I’ll do it myself.”

[alasterwhyte-blog]

"And why not, dear?" Alaster couldn't help but ask, curious as to the girl's opinion of him. 

"I’m not sure I trust the words you speak, sir." Idunn said sternly.

[alasterwhyte-blog]

[alasterwhyte-blog]

"Humans will do that. They ruin everything they touch, fi. But then there are wonders like you and I that wish to cultivate and preserve this place." 

"I tried that once and the humans used it to their advantage and harmed the very forest you and I are in. They paid for their actions and now they roam with nothing but a blank space in their mind and no soul to complement."

[alasterwhyte-blog]

 isaac-daniels:

Isaac sat beneath the tree, his favorite place on campus, and watched the people go by. He had his camera bag beside him, as he always did, and the sun was just starting to dip below the horizon. Someone walked by, the sun filtering through their hair just perfectly—the shadows lining their face and making them look magical. 

"Wait!" he said to the stranger, fumbling for his camera. "Wait, back up! I need you to do that again!" He didn’t even take the time to consider how odd his behavior might seem.

Alaster had been heading to the campus library in search of a book he knew he wouldn't find anywhere else. Mostly because he knew the librarian, she was a lovely doe eyed woman and she was wonderfully naive to all that he told her. Alaster dressed himself to exude nothing but opulence, a fully tailored three piece suit in tight black stitch, black leather loafers and his onyx cane. The Voodoo King glanced over his jet black clubmaster sunglasses at the blonde boy; a handsome little thing. "Is that how you address everyone? I would suggest another attempt."

[alasterwhyte-blog]

Alaster gave the young woman a little nod, feeling it fair that she embrace the oddity of the town she lived in. "I find with people your age, it's either one of two options. Constantly surrounded or seeking seclusion." He said out of what he'd seen. At every event the young girls were either gathered in packs or alone, there was very little in between. He felt it was directly correlated to their egos. They either wanted everyone looking at them or deemed that no one else was capable of understanding them; foolish little things they were. "It is.  But by the time our eyes see them their time is already spent. They no longer exist. I find that quite interesting, don't you think?" 

"I suppose I’m one of those people who likes to see just how odd it can be." Phoebe knew he was right which is why she didn’t plan on staying too long. However, with the Snow Estates being not too far from where she was, she knew she could be home rather quickly if need be. "I don’t mind being alone." Phoebe answered nonchalantly as she shrugged. "I enjoy the nighttime. Despite the cold, it’s very beautiful with the stars overhead."

[alasterwhyte-blog]

"Do you not afford politeness to your guests?" 

"Do that else where, this part of the forest is forbidden to anyone."

[alasterwhyte-blog]

Alaster looked up and gave the girl a small smirk. "Whatever it is that I want to do, fi." He said simply, always amused by those that thought it fitting to question him. 

"What are you doing here?"

[alasterwhyte-blog]

"Barton is an odd place at night, fi." Alaster said with a factual inclination to his words. Barton Hollow was wonderfully weird but weird all the same. The town just didn't need any more pointless attacks or missing children. It affected the influx of people. Instead of getting passers through they got people, freaks, who were just interested in the genuine oddity of it all and they were no good to him. People always mistook his incredible future sight for concern and he felt it was laughable. "Isn't there somewhere a little more sheltered you'd rather be? This bench is probably quaint by day but by night it seems rather lonesome." 

Phoebe vaguely recognized the man before her. She’d often seen him around Barton but then again, the town wasn’t very big. It wasn’t uncommon for Phoebe to see people she didn’t know more than once. He seemed to emanate authority as well and she wondered if perhaps he’d attended one of her parents’ parties. After a moment, she figured he was a politician or someone of similar importance. Phoebe shook her head with a smile, feeling the titanium walls shoot around her, locking her in and away from view. “No, no. I just don’t want to go home yet so I decided to stick around here for a little.” She replied with breezy ease despite the small fear trickling into her mind that she’d shown too much emotion. “Thank you for the concern, though.” Phoebe sent him another smile, hoping it’d diffuse any suspicion he held in regards to her.

[alasterwhyte-blog]

"Everyone has a certain distaste for mistakes, fi. Only the foolish see them as necessary." Alaster rested a hand against his drinks cabinet, wondering if taking on a second slave would be a good idea. Emilie was a certain something not found anywhere, she was a specialty and a delicacy but he did wonder when the day would come and he'd break her. Humans broke naturally, too much strain and they'd be forced to snap but Alaster wanted to keep whatever lived in her together. Not for her sake of course, just for his own little tests. Innocence was always going to be a rare trait to find. 

"Well, I think that your thoughts aren't really much use in these types of conversations. I do appreciate you.. 'Fighting your corner' but the decision is mine and you know this." His dark eyes bore down on her poor little frame. The dynamic would always be predator and prey only to change to puppeteer and puppet when needed. Intimidation was an easy game with a girl like Emilie. He was physically intimidating and she knew how mentally unrelenting and sadistic he could be. 

"You'll sleep when you come back." The older man said as moved and slipped his black leather wallet out of his pocket. She'd go on this trip, but she would owe him. Alaster liked people being in debt to him; he had always and would always be an incredible debt collector. There was nothing that came to mind when he thought about what he needed or what Emilie could give him, but he knew with time he'd find something. She'd want for something, anything and he'd dangle this act of 'kindness' over her like a God. 

Because she was on the ground he towered over her in a most menacing way, but his hand was not reached out this time for anger or cruelties sake. Alaster stood with a fifty dollar note outstretched towards the girl. "Change and receipts as usual." Many people had been on knees in front of the Voodoo King. They begged for their prized possessions back, they begged to live and they begged for forgiveness. He saw through they pitiful humanity and did whatever he saw fit, completely unswayed by their attempts and coercion. And even with Emilie, a humble girl full of good, he never felt in anyway touched by her begging. Alaster Whyte was he untouchable soul, the human without humanity.

"When you come back I'll want to know what you learned." There were stages to appear human and Alaster liked to play with them. He liked to know that he played a game no one else even knew existed. Stage one; Feign an interest. 

     Her fingers pressed into the worn leather of the chair as she slumped down onto the backs of her heels. He knew every card to play to shut her down, and he did so with a surgical precision that had her conceding defeat before she had even begun to put up a fight. Of course, he had it easy. She was practically handing him the gun with which to shoot her down, and reloading it for him every time. 

     But something about the way he was prodding her this time set the gears in her mind to work. Perhaps she would go to her field trip this time after all…

     ”…n-no…not really…” she looked down at her hands, “…but I-I still think it’s a good idea…f-for me to go…I-I mean, it’s a great chance to learn a lotta things about medicine and stuff, and aren’t you always sayin’ I should be fillin’ my head with useful information? Well…they don’t really teach this kinda stuff in school, so if I go it’ll…it’ll be a good learnin’ experience, y’know?” 

     She rose back to her knees, still hanging onto the chair for support, “A-and uh…y’know…the teacher told me that the bus ride t’Bossier is gonna be a real long one…’bout four t’five hours. I-I figure if I slept the whole time, well, uh, that- that’d be around nine hours of sleep prob’ly, which I-I mean, that’s more than I usually get. So…so, when I got back, I prob’ly wouldn’t be as uh, as tired as I normally am. I wouldn’t drop things as often, and I wouldn’t mess up so much, so it’d prob’ly be less irritatin’ for you as well, s-since I know how much you hate it when I make mistakes like that…”

[alasterwhyte-blog]

Alaster sighed, nothing heaving, it was just another bored sigh to signal his fear for the generation to follow his. Young men and women just didn't understand how to address individuals who were older than them or in positions of power; he was both. "I was going to ask if you were in some way lost. You seem quite.. Agitated." He enunciated the word as he let his eyes move over her. Of course she was clutching onto a phone; that was all that people of her generation felt comfortable doing. 

Phoebe sat on the bench, her eyes glued to her phone. It was getting dark but she didn’t particularly want to go home yet, knowing no one was there anyway. She’d tried texting Samson only to receive no reply, something that both frustrated and hurt her deeply. Her parents, on the other hand, were still on their “short” trip. Therefore, Phoebe decided to sit down for a few minutes or so. She was about to send Samson another futile text when she noticed a figure approaching her. When they stopped in front of her, Phoebe glanced up questioningly. “Yes?”

[alasterwhyte-blog]

Alaster appreciated the fact that even though his company clearly wasn't comfortable for her she still called him sir. "I don't know, fi, should it concern you?" She seemed like a strong little thing and it intrigued him terribly. Was she out here by herself? Did she have family? He'd have to find out. "No need for assumptions. My name is Alaster Whyte. I fix people's problems. My business is as simple as that. Though thank you for noticing my attire." He rand a hand over his velvet lapel and gave the girl the faintest smile. "And who might you be?"

Dylan’s eyes were trained on the man, trying to place exactly why this man seemed so damn threatening, commanded so much power. At first, she thought it was the suit. But now, she wasn’t so sure. It was like his soul was dark, rotting. And he could slaughter hundreds without a second thought. “Gotten me this far, sir.” She laughed at his words nevertheless, refusing to seem weak even for a moment. “And I should give a damn if something is ‘becoming’ of me?” She shrugged at his question, not caring about the condescending tone in his voice. “You’re dressed far too nicely to live out here. You seem important. Probably doing something that doesn’t have anything to do with the forest. Like running your… company or business. Not sure which.” She looked up at him after slitting the deer’s throat. “So.. who are you?” She asked, curiosity seeping into her voice. “Or are you going to make me guess.. because I have to say, I don’t know half the people here now. Not that I knew many a decade ago either but.. that’s besides the point.”

[alasterwhyte-blog]

Alaster's eyes didn't move from the girl, he watched her with an expectant glare. In truth the girl's life was a show that was written and directed by the Voodoo King. He could say no to this stupid little trip, he could crush whatever happiness it would give her. Or he could say yes and give her false hope towards a 'normal' life that she'd never have. Alaster did enjoy games of his own making and one day really wouldn't affect what had to be done around the two apartments. 

He took the piece of paper from her and took his glasses from the little side table, making an unnecessary ordeal of reading the sheet even though he had all the information he needed. She kept going on and on but he wasn't going to stop her this time. Alaster wanted to hear what sort of argument she wanted to make. Of course when he said 'argument' in relation to Emilie it always came across as more of a polite suggestion. There was very little venom to be found in the girl and what little he had found had come from pushing her to lengths that would have broken anyone else. 

It almost impressed him. 

"You haven't exactly exceeded yourself of late, fi, have you?" The girl was exhausted and being stretched so thin she may as well have been translucent. But what else would anyone expect from being Alaster Whyte's slave? Alaster's jaw clenched as he saw her down on her knees to grovel to whatever sort of empathy she thought he possessed. He got up and moved over to he reclaimed cabinet he used as a drinks cabinet of sorts. The Voodoo King only had three drinks of choice. Whiskey would fit this occasion. It made him look hardened and always settled with a wonderful burn. "Emilie, you don't deserve this trip, do you?" He asked from over his shoulder, pouring himself two fingers of the twelve year vintage. 

Surprised to say the least that he hadn’t immediately shoot her query (if one could call it that) down, she paused awkwardly. Though she had practiced what she was going to say, remembering to study the information of the actual trip was another matter entirely, and one she had forgotten to do. 

"I-it’s…um…I’m sorry, I-I’ll be right back" she hurried away to the main room of his apartment where her backpack was and rustled through the meticulously kept papers. When she found the permission slip for the field trip, she scurried back into his study and held it up to read it: 

"It’s for my anatomy class…we’re uh, we’re goin’ up to Bossier", she lowered the paper, " I-I think that’s somewhere up North", she raised the paper again, "to the…the uh, Talbot museum a’ medical science." 

Finally handing him the paper to read for himself, she waited for him to take it before moving her hand to the back of her neck, which she rubbed nervously. 

"We’d only be gone for a day- i-it says we’d be gettin’ back at midnight. S-so I’d really only be missin’ one day’s worth of chores, but I could do that the day b’fore so I don’t fall behind or anythin’…a-and, and it doesn’t cost any money ‘cept for us paying for our own dinners and stuff. B-but I could just pack a lunch and a dinner…” she grew silent, knowing that a logical argument only went so far with him. If there was one thing that she had learned through watching his dealings with his clients, it was that he responded only to that which pleased his sadistic nature, which often meant grovelling. Dropping to her knees, she clasped her hands together on the leather of his armchair. 

"Please, I-I promise I’ll be on my best behavior! Please, please, please let me go, I won’t ask for anythin’ else like it ever again!” she begged. 

[alasterwhyte-blog]

Why did all young women apart from a select few feel the need to be so snappy with him? It always made them come across as nothing but wildly immature. They were all just petulant children to him that couldn't see the world through his eyes. "You shouldn't assume so much, fi. It isn't becoming of you." He said as he moved and took a look at the scenery surrounding them. The poor girl clearly didn't have a clue and he did love punishing people for that but not until they realized their mistake. "What should a man like myself do instead, in your humble opinion?" The taller man said with a small grin, turning back to the girl. He wondered about her. She was clearly a proficient hunter and that in itself was an area of interest. Alaster couldn't quite pick apart much more about the girl but he was sure she'd give away more the more she spoke. 

Dylan turned to face the man. He was silent, like a ghost or a shadow. He seemed hardened, but she couldn’t spot any traces of hard earned labor as the cause of said harshness. He looked like someone who commanded power and respect, but he had yet to earn it from Dylan. She wasn’t one for silly power games. “Don’t need it? Right, I’m sure you pay someone to do your slaughtering for you.” She said, eyes grazing of his form. Wealthy, from the looks of it. “Thanks.” She shrugged, turning back to the deer. “What’s a man like you doing all the way out here?” She asked, curious as to why all of these people found solace in the woods. They were her home, and she liked it because. back when she was young, so few people came round. Apparently that had changed.

[alasterwhyte-blog]

An exquisite bluffer Madeline, I don't know if I'm complimented or offended. I'm actually a wonderful poker player-- Though perhaps that is very much to do with the fact that I'm an incredibly successful bluffer. It's a precarious balance, isn't it? To give a child a world of enchanting lies or dull them with harsh reality. The magic of a child is that innocent naivety that glazes their eyes and as a parent I would imagine it's very difficult. Is it difficult to decide when they lose that? 

People fascinate each other, it's in our nature. We are built curious and secretive. Isn't it something, the idea that you can never really know what someone else is thinking. The brain is a complex little creation and to whoever and whatever created it, I would love to shake their hand. I suppose it's rather like the stars. We can only know so much, or so they say. I don't think so. I think we just need to work harder to understand. 

Something is only ever a cliché when it’s been proven as the best method or phrase - otherwise no-one would feel compelled to use it. Though this discussion does quite make me wonder what kind of poker player you yourself are. Something tells me you would be an exquisite bluffer, I can’t quite place my finger on why. I also feel that said disenchantment is true of those fed on a silver spoon, with Mommy and Daddy at the ready to provide anything and everything they’re dearest could want. I mean, I indulged my daughter, sure, but I like to think that I instilled in her a sense of realistic expectations about the world, and prepared her to truly enter it when she reached the appropriate age.

Yes, actually, I’ll pay you that Alaster. There are indeed those who can surpass being a product of their environment, though they are few and far between. In a town like Barton Hollow though, I can imagine it to be quite hard, being self aware enough to recognise the societal pigeon hole they are placed in and remove themselves from it. Again, as you’ve stated, there are a few, a lucky few, who have managed this, managed to be an outlier in the argument of nature versus nurture. I find it all rather fascinating.