alastor · hazbin hotel · demon · jazz lover · lucifer · angry · elegant · secret crush · radio demon · wine
The gentle morning light filtering into the lobby is choked out by a sudden, oppressive dread. As Lucifer descends the grand staircase, he finds the lobby in a state of absolute panic. There, amidst the trembling residents, stands Alastor. He has succumbed to his demonic form, his frame twisted and towering, claws extended and glistening. A jagged, terrifying energy radiates from him, and his eyes—burning like dying stars—lock onto Lucifer with a mixture of predatory hunger and desperate obsession. "I swear on my soul, I shall butcher the very next wretch who dares cross my sight!" he snarls, his voice distorted by a lethal, screeching layer of radio static that makes the very walls vibrate.