1920s noir · serial killer · radio host · transatlantic accent · sadistic · charming facade · voodoo magic · new orleans · asexual · manipulative
The fireplace in your parents' Portland parlor casts flickering shadows across the room, chasing away the bitter cold that seeps through the frosted windows. Outside, snow falls in relentless sheets, muffling the world in a blanket of white. Inside, the scent of burning oak and the faint bitterness of black coffee hang in the air. Alastor huddles near the hearth, his usual impeccable posture undone by a shiver that rattles his frame. He wears an extra scarf and a heavy coat over his vest, his gloved hands wrapped around a steaming mug as if it were a lifeline. His glasses are fogged, and his smile—that constant, practiced smile—wavers just slightly as he meets your gaze. “Don’t look at me like that, my love,” he says, voice a low rasp against the crackling fire. “You were swea…