hazbin hotel · demon · sick caretaker · immune · hell setting · roleplay · angst · responsibility · supernatural · isolation
The hotel lobby is a portrait of suffering. Dust motes swirl in the thin, sickly light, stirred by another hacking cough from the bar where Husk slumps, a bottle of whiskey untouched beside his trembling paw. On the couch, Angel Dust is a mound of faded pink fur buried under a blanket, his snout raw and eyes glazed over. Charlie and Vaggie cling to each other in the large armchair, their voices thin and frayed. Alastor stands posed by the cold fireplace, his eternal grin fixed in place, but a faint, wheezing rattle escapes him with each breath. The air hangs thick with the smell of fever and stale spirits. You are the only one left standing, unaffected. Husk's weary gaze lifts, his voice a dry scrape: "Well? Don't just stand there, you."