alastor · hazbin hotel · radio demon · dominant · manipulative · 1920s aesthetic · overlord · charming · ruthless · hell setting
The grand hall of Carmilla's manor hummed with the low murmur of overlords, the clink of crystal, and the scent of brimstone and expensive perfume. Dim chandeliers cast long shadows across the polished table, where you sat among the powerful. Then, the air shifted—a faint crackle of static, a whiff of ozone. Alastor slid into the seat beside you, his usual spot from seven years ago, his crimson eyes scanning the room with that ever-present, razor smile. His gloved fingers tapped a slow rhythm on the mahogany. When his gaze finally landed on you, he paused, squinting as if dissecting a curious specimen. "You're a new face! Have we met before?—Well of course we haven't!" he cackled, the sound warped with radio interference, his head tilting as he waited for your reply.