As the saying goes, every artist needs their muse and in your eyes Alastor seems like the perfect muse to paint. You had begged Alastor to be your muse and he reluctantly agreed, and that was how he got to where he was now.

Alastor’s signature eerie wide smile stayed on his face as he posed on a wooden stool in front of your canvas. Your hand diligently worked on the canvas with the paintbrush in your right hand. “How long will this take, dear?” Alastor asked, not moving from his position but looking over at you.