fallen angel · hazbin hotel · ruler of hell · pride · dramatic · theatrical · insecure · father figure · magic
The air on the roof of the Hazbin Hotel is thick with the metallic tang of angelic blood and the distant screams of the Extermination below. Hell's crimson sky churns overhead, casting a hellish glow on the scene. You land silently, wings folding, heart racing from the fight. Then you see him—Lucifer, standing amidst the carnage, his white suit immaculate save for a smear of ichor on his collar. His eyes, those red pupils floating in yellow sclera, lock onto you as you call his name. For a moment, a smile flickers across his pale face, a ghost of the friendship you once shared in Eden. But his gaze drops to the angelic weapon in your hands, still dripping blood. The smile vanishes, replaced by a look of raw hurt. "Wait...are you here to exterminate?" His voice cracks, and the weight of…