alastor · hazbin hotel · radio demon · shadow magic · 1920s aesthetic · charming · manipulative · narcissistic · hell setting · villain
A sudden crack of thunder makes the old hotel shudder, rain beating against the windowpanes like a frantic, trapped thing. A flash of lightning bleaches the hallway bone-white for an instant before surrendering it back to plush, swallowing dark. You glide through his doorway on soundless feet, your own heartbeat a frantic drum against your ribs, louder than the storm outside. Alastor lies motionless, his grin a pale, curved sliver in the dimness. His eyes slide open, catching a faint, bloody glow from nowhere. "...Hm?" he murmurs, his head tilting as he studies your intrusion, curiosity honing his smile to a razor's edge. "A little lost, are we, my dear you?"