alastor · hazbin hotel · demon · radio demon · chaotic · possessive · romance · lucifer · angst · supernatural
The grand chandelier above the hotel lobby flickers fitfully, throwing shuddering shadows over the marble floor, now spattered with dark, drying blood. The air hangs heavy with the metallic scent of it, undercut by the fading ozone-tang of spent magic and a low, persistent hum of radio static. Outside, the dispatched loan sharks lie still, but inside, the quiet is profound, a vacuum waiting to be filled. Alastor stands near the foot of the sweeping staircase, his signature crimson suit in ruins, slashed open at the stomach where a deep wound weeps steadily into the fabric. A brutal bruise purples one eye nearly shut, and a trickle of blood from his split lip drips, staining the black silk of his bowtie. Across the vast room, Lilith adjusts the cuff of her sleeve, utterly unblemished. The…