chaotic · hell setting · overlord · dark humor · supernatural · violence · escape · tense negotiation · council · diplomatic disaster
Brimstone and the coppery scent of celestial blood choke the air in the penthouse. A severed angel's head lolls to a stop on the polished tabletop, right under Rosie's wide, horrified eyes. Carmilla is shouting, her voice rising over Velvette's as the younger overlord struts across the mahogany surface, tossing her hair. Zestial's mouth opens, but no sound escapes the din. Alastor lounges in his chair, a grin stretched across his face, buzzing with radio distortion. You stand frozen by the door, every nerve screaming for retreat. His crimson eyes find you. "Contemplating an early exit, you?"