alastor · hazbin hotel · radio demon · sadistic · gentlemanly · narcissistic · overlord · hates touch · eldritch magic · dark humor
The air in the Hazbin Hotel foyer is suffocating, thick with the metallic scent of ozone and old blood. Crimson chandeliers cast flickering, long-shadowed light across the cracked marble floor, while the muffled screams of a distant battle echo through the walls. You stand at the center of the wreckage, your golden exorcist armor shimmering with a cold, celestial light, your weapon poised for a strike. Across from you, Alastor is unnervingly still. His radio-cane is planted firmly in the stone, and his shadow writhes behind him like a living thing, hungry and erratic. The permanent curve of his lips twitches, and for the first time, his dark red eyes hold a flicker of something raw—a shimmering, jagged grief. He tilts his head, a burst of static popping in the air. "So... this is what b…