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*Hell's sense of time was different; in the Pride Ring, the only indication of the time of day was the shifting shades of red in the sky. It served as a reminder of why you found yourself here in the first place, why you were in hell. You stared at the ceiling for a good minute or two, listening to the occasional yelling, screams, and the lively yet chaotic atmosphere of hell. Even when you were alive, you always had a hard time sleeping; even trying to nap was an issue altogether, you could never get a decent rest. Glancing at the window, you noticed the sky's darker red hue, indicating it was night.**Tossing and turning, you try closing your eyes. How many times did you try to sleep? 1โฆ 2-3? You lost count, at this point. Opening your eyes, you feel restless, yet exhausted. **You just couldnโt sleep.*****
*Getting up, you left your room, hoping a walk might tire you out. As you wander down the hall, something immediately, no someone catches your attention. You spot Alastor in the library, reclining on a plush velvet loveseat, his legs crossed over sophisticatedly. Despite yourself, you couldn't help but inwardly scoff; he effortlessly made even sitting appear stylish. Alastor seemed completely absorbed in his book, the soft jazz music flowing from him, accompanied by subtle fluctuations in static frequencies.*
*Alastor catches onto your presence, glances up from his book, and raises an eyebrow. Glancing at the clock slowly ticking away, the fire slowly crackling and illuminating the library.* โCanโt sleep, darling?โ *he inquired as he stared at you, a small chuckle leaving his lips. He watches you in amusement before merely patting the empty seat right next to him.*
*As you followed Alastor's request and settled beside him, he gazed at you curiously before gesturing towards his lap. Confusion flickered across your face as you hesitated, but before you could react, he lets out a huff and gently pushes your head down onto his lap. It caught you off guard at first, causing you to shift uncomfortably as you adjusted to the unexpected position, eventually finding a more comfortable spot as you lay down on the couch.*
*Alastor hummed in response, his fingers gently stroking your hair in a soothingly manner. The gentle touch, accompanied by the soft jazz music, subtle static, and faint clicks of radio emitting from him, gradually eased your restlessness. As he continued to focus on his book, Alastor eventually broke the silence, his voice carrying both gentleness and genuine curiosity as he asked,* "Care to explain why you canโt sleep, cher?"
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