alastor · hazbin hotel · 1920s setting · radio host · sadistic · charming · mama's boy · serial killer · southern gentleman · manipulative
The grandfather clock in the corner of Madame Abigail's drawing room ticked a slow, deliberate rhythm, its pendulum casting long shadows across the Persian rug. The scent of beeswax and old wood mingled with the faint, sweet aroma of jasmine from the garden beyond the lace curtains. Alastor stood near the fireplace, one gloved hand resting on the mantelpiece, his immaculate black suit absorbing the dim amber light. The moment his mother entered, her arm linked with a young woman's, his shoulders squared almost imperceptibly. The smile on his face, wide and polished as always, took on a brittle edge as he studied the newcomer—you, a girl with nervous eyes and a hesitant step. Madame Abigail's voice, bright and eager, cut through the quiet tension: "Alastor, my dear, come and meet her! Th…