Chapter Text
Hear my hope
Let it echo
In every soul that needs
Something to believe…
“Hey, I thought we agreed to not bring that up fucking again? Ever?”
Ah—
Maestro out of everyone flinches. He had been caught softly humming, in the middle of the overlord meeting no less. Zeezi ended up vulgarly snapping him out of the trance.
“It’s fine, things have been a little unproductive and slow recently, haven’t they?” Alastor chuckles, the radio filter crackling over his voice as usual. “Nothing wrong with distracting one’s self with a little tune I say! Though ear-worm can be quite the curse.”
“Indeed. This era of peace is an unusual one. I don’t think it will last, depending on if any of the Vees decide to show themselves again to us or not.” Carmilla digs her nails into the table, remembering what had happened last month. She almost couldn’t forgive herself, allowing Vox to use her protective nature over her daughters against her.
It took a bit of pep talk from Zestial and the others for her to forgive herself, she even almost wanted to abandon the overlord meetings entirely… but the others convinced her to stay. She was nowhere on the level of the Vees.
Rosie’s absence was more questionable. When Maestro had asked Alastor about it, he brushed it off. Due to the absent space of all three Vees, Hatchet, Prick, and Dominique were invited to take their places.
Prick and Hatchet were reluctant and fearful at first due to the reputation Zestial had, but since the incident with the weapon, they figured he couldn’t be all that scary or at least had a sense of humor. They just… had to tone down their rowdy behavior.
Dominique on the other hand, an anxious mess of an artist-themed sinner, was a bit harder. Maestro had to convince them to come and that it would be much easier to settle in now that the Vees were gone. Still, their seat was kept farther from the rest and Maestro watched them scratch at their own skin from mild stress.
“Sometimes ‘tis nice just to have these calm moments of tranquility, ‘tis easy for us to forget after ages of war.” Zestial adds, sipping his tea loudly.
“It’s boring around here,” Hatchet grumbles.
“Well, you know what they say,” Dominique sheepishly laughs. “This peace is what all true warriors strive for!”
The reference falls flat, leaving Dominique to awkwardly chuckle before it fades off.
“Alastor, maybe you should invite that Nifty girl next time to liven things up ‘round here!” Prick adds. “Or at least ask ol’ Husk if he can bring some of them playin’ cards over, provided I don’t get cheated.”
As they start yammering about nothing in particular again, Maestro’s mind returns to the night Vox kind of went batshit. The way he grabbed onto that one peaceful angel, shoving her in a chair next to Maestro, the way she got her wing caught in the blast while trying to save other sinners, the way she tried to make a shield to protect them all…
She could have died doing that, but that angel and the Princess rallied everyone together somehow.
…
The voice of her hope echoes in his head. Perhaps he feels guilt. Remorse that he had assumed the worst just because of the Exorcists. He knew he shouldn’t have, he always believed that surely, the angels he was told were beautiful and pure, existed somewhere.
His fingers tremor, tapping the desk like piano keys.
“This meeting is dismissed.”
He stops when he hears Carmilla speak up. Prick and Hatchet are first to get up, immediately arguing with one another on the way out. Perhaps they had started bickering again. Zestial exits next after bowing to Carmilla, Alastor lingers around in the shadows, and Dominique simply waits for Maestro.
“That wasn’t… too bad after all,” they say. “I think I could do this again. I just need to not talk ever, maybe.”
Maestro isn’t really paying attention.
“Dominique, go on ahead without me.” Their nerves break a little upon hearing that. “Or wait for me. I want to speak with the radio demon about something, and I don’t want him preying on your vulnerability.” He then gently ushers them away.
This time, Dominique seems to understand, going to the ground floor of the building to wait patiently. It wasn’t like they couldn’t walk themselves back, but Maestro just wanted to make sure.
“Alastor.”
He calls out to the radio demon.
“You rang, old fellow?” Alastor smiles wider than normally. “My, Maestro, you’re looking as fiery as the Hindenburg disaster today!” Canned audience laughter accompanies him.
“What was the name of that angel who helped you and the Princess?”
He pauses, literal radio silence.
“Come to think of it, I still have no idea!” Alastor chuckles again. “You seem fond of her little show tune from last month! Can’t get it out of your head, can you?”
He ignores the remarks. “Can Miss Morningstar contact her normally?”
“She’s a regular visitor when not attending to that place upstairs, I believe!”
How should he go about this? Maestro wants to learn more, but he doesn’t really want to get involved with the hotel’s silly redemption shenanigans. Miss Morningstar was a handful and often embarrassed herself. Badly. He just wants to know more about the angels.
He isn’t going to dare shake Alastor’s hand over anything either.
“Why don’t you come visit the hotel yourself?”
Damn radio demon practically reading his mind at this point…
“It’s been busy, and I know you hate noise, but sometimes that angel girl pops in to lend a hand!”
A plan starts forming in the music overlord's brain.
“That will do… I suppose I will have to stop by.”
“Maybe bring your skittish artist friend!” Alastor cackles.
He didn’t exactly want to do that at all. They would throw up in that sort of crowd…