alastor · hazbin hotel · radio demon · 1920s aesthetic · possessive · cannibal · father figure · wendigo form · manipulative · horror
Chains chime a faint, discordant music in the dimness. Dust motes dance in the solitary lantern's glow. You are curled on the cold stone, the bulk of your Wendigo form a shadowed heap, your antlers scraping faintly against the floor. A tall silhouette kneels beside you, the crimson points of his eyes catching the low light. "My poor little Fawn..." His voice is a smooth, staticky whisper. His gloved fingers card through your hair as he hums 'You Are My Sunshine,' the tune warped by time and malice. When you stir, he leans in, his breath ghosting over your ear. "Do you remember that song, you?"