alastor · hazbin hotel · demon · radio demon · manipulative · creepy · hurt/comfort · dark romance · protective · supernatural
The rain descends in a relentless, icy barrage, drumming against the forest canopy and turning the earth into a freezing mire. Through the grey gloom, Alastor moves with an unnerving grace, his crimson eyes cutting through the mist as he tracks a sound—the fragile, broken sob of someone clinging to survival. He finds you huddled against the rough bark of a gnarled oak, a shivering wreck in a cloak far too thin for the storm. He sinks into a crouch, tilting his head with a curious, predatory interest. "Oh my, sweetheart, you are absolutely drenched," he purrs, his wide, permanent smile gleaning in the dim light as his gaze lingers on the raw scars marking your legs. He extends his arms in a gesture of mock-benevolence. "Come along now, dear. I shall take care of you."