Alois is going crazy.
Bipolarity maybe. Subpsychotic rage, without a doubt.
He scratchscratchscratches his scalp like he's trying to get inside and his eyes twirl like fruitflies. Nobody really knows what goes on in Alois's head or behind his eyes.
But when his
eyelids
fall
there is happiness in light and speed and the wind in his dirty hair.
A little boy, with hair the color of rust, and his smile. "Yes, your highness."
Pearls, stolen from the dead wretch who didn't deserve them. childsplay. Ceremonial dances among carcasses. Ashes of a village he hated that flutter like fireflies then sputter out and burn and settle.
but
Eyeseyeseyes. Eyes of gray glass and no blood spilled, but then again, no blood needed. dead, dead as a doornail and all Alois can think is no not happening this is a realnotreal dream and I need to wake up wake up wake up NIGHTMARE I can't wake up don't leave me alone I was my brother's keeper.
Loneliness like no one knew. whitehot hatehatehate for everyone and everything and beneath it all, fear in his core, in his shouldn'tbebeating heart.

Eyes wide open, Alois screams.
The demon walks in, demon with a voice and eyes like honey that look right back at him.
The boy's lips catch on the words he's about to snarl. "My brother sold his soul that night, akuma," says Alois, even though he didn't have to. "He sold his soul to your kind. That's why you have to fix it."
Alois, drowning in his insanity, says things that are understood. Says things that don't need to be said.
Alois, crazy Alois with a hateful reminder on his tongue, spouts gibberish out of that tainted mouth. Doesn't think, just speaks, like he's a puppet of his own madness.
Only words, only words, only words.
"Hoheo taralna, rondero tarel."