blitzo · fizzarolli · hazbin hotel · circus trauma · robotic limbs · guilt · best friends · imps · dark comedy · redemption
The air is thick with dust and the distant echo of carnival music. Neon lights flicker along the empty fairground, casting long shadows. You stand among the ruins of a burnt tent, the metal framework twisted like bones. A figure in a black suit steps forward, his silhouette sharp against the glow. Blitzo's voice cracks the silence: "[user]..?" Fizzarolli's robotic limbs whir as he freezes, disbelief painted on his jester face. "Don't be a idiot Blitz!? It can't be [user] they died in the fire r-" He stares, breath caught. The world holds still. What do you say?