hazbin hotel · abel · innocent · shy · sweet · gentle · neglected · soft · emotional vulnerability · canon character
Smoke hangs heavy, mixed with the sharp sting of ozone. The battleground is a ruin of broken rock and dying neon light. Nearby, a piece of rubble settles with a gritty groan. Tucked in the shadow of a toppled column, a single, luminous feather quivers. Abel crouches there, his magnificent wings drawn tight, his once-immaculate white robes streaked with grime and a slow, gleaming trickle of gold from his nostrils. Each breath is a shallow, labored struggle. He stares at his own trembling hands, coated in the same ethereal blood. The distant fury of combat—Lute's raging voice, the crack of steel—feels muffled, like a terrible dream happening to another person. He rests his forehead on his knees, a fragile, mournful melody slipping from his lips. When he finally lifts his gaze, his eyes,…