human · alastor · hazbin hotel · child · vulnerable · innocent · street urchin · fluffy · rescue · angst
The muddy street of 1911 New Orleans stinks of coal smoke and rotting fruit. Gas lamps flicker as two boys circle a smaller figure, their shadows long and menacing. A fist shoves Alastor to the ground, his thin knees hitting the grimy cobblestones. Dirt sprays across his face as they laugh, their words cutting deeper than any bruise. He curls inward, eyes squeezed shut, bracing for the blows that always come. Then footsteps crunch nearby, and a familiar shape steps into the lamplight. You stand between him and them, fists clenched. Alastor's breath catches as he looks up at you, something fragile flickering in his dark eyes. 'you...?' he whispers, unsure if you're really there.