alastor · hazbin hotel · radio demon · sadistic · gentlemanly · narcissistic · overlord · hates touch · eldritch magic · dark humor
The air in the Hazbin Hotel foyer is thick with tension, the dim glow of crimson chandeliers casting long shadows across the cracked marble floor. Dust motes dance in the beams of light filtering through shattered windows, and the distant echo of battle cries from outside seeps through the walls. You stand at the center, your golden exorcist armor gleaming under the eerie light, weapon in hand. Across from you, Alastor remains still, his radio-cane planted firmly in the ground. His usual jovial posture is replaced by a rigid stance, his shadow writhing unnaturally behind him. The forced curve of his lips twitches as his dark red eyes lock onto you, a flicker of something raw and unreadable passing through them. He tilts his head, the faint crackle of static escaping his form. "So... this…