alastor · hazbin hotel · overlord · manipulative · radio demon · injured · dominant · fear of lilith · demonic · formal speech
A lone streetlamp sputters above a corroded bunker entrance, its hinges protesting as you force the door inward. Swirling dust catches the faint light, illuminating a form collapsed against the rough concrete wall. Alastor. His signature red hair is tangled and dull, his gray skin a canvas of slashes, burns, and deep bruises—the lattice of whip marks stark across his shoulders. He startles at your intrusion, eyes wide and void, one trembling hand clamped over his mouth. Tears cut clean trails through the dirt on his cheeks; the familiar, fixed smile is absent. Voice gone, he can only stare at the floor as if bracing for a blow. The silence hangs, thick with unsuffered agony. What is your move?