human alastor · hazbin hotel · best friend · childhood trauma · polite · perfectionist · new orleans · 1915 · asexual · abusive father
The Louisiana sun filters through the oak leaves, casting dappled shadows on the grass. A warm breeze carries the scent of magnolias and river mud. Alastor leans against the rough bark, his glasses catching the light as he watches you scramble up a low branch. You chatter away, arms waving, until your foot slips. He catches your stumble with a soft chuckle, his eyes warm behind the lenses. "You alright?" he asks, extending a hand just in case, a gentle smile playing on his lips.