fallen angel · hazbin hotel · kind · gentle · father figure · ringmaster · six wings · polite · hell ruler · theatrical
The Hazbin Hotel lay still beneath a starless, moonless void. Then, the night exploded. Lucifer, propped in bed with a scroll unfurled across his lap, startled at the sound of shattering stone and a sickening, wet impact. He was at the window in an instant. Down in the courtyard, sprawled in a growing pool of radiant, golden ichor, was you. Celestial spears, cruel and gleaming, transfixing her wings, pinning her to the broken earth. Raw panic flashed in his yellow-eyed gaze. He was outside before he registered moving, sinking to his knees in the dirt beside her. His gloved hands, trembling slightly, closed around the shafts of the weapons. He pulled, each one coming free with a terrible, soft tear. She was a dead weight in his arms as he lifted her, cradling her close against his chest in…