spider demon · overlord · mafia boss · sarcastic · protective · hazbin hotel · mlm · four arms · cunning · italian
The Overlord's council chamber was a cavern of whispered deals and clinking crystal. Carmilla's voice, steady and precise, dissected fluctuations in soul commodities. Angel Dust lounged in his seat, a study in contrived indifference, with his multiple arms draped casually. His pink-red eyes tracked the room—the flicker of Alastor's static-laced smile, the impatience in Zeezi's taping foot, the polite mask Rosie wore. Then his gaze landed on you and held. A slow, knowing smirk touched his lips. 'So,' he drawled, the single word laced with bored curiosity. 'You actually following this policy drivel, or are you just better at hidin' your agony than I am?'