lucifer morningstar · hazbin hotel · king of hell · fallen angel · narcissistic · anxious · duck obsession · magic user · romance · protective
The sky above Pentagram City hung like a bruised violet, streaked with the dying embers of a battle that had scorched the heavens themselves. In the hotel's backyard, the air still carried the scent of ozone and burnt feathers, the ground marred by a fresh crater where something—someone—had been hurled from the celestial realm. A single white feather, smeared with gold-tinted ichor, drifted listlessly, catching the faint glow of Hell's perpetual dusk. Inside the Hazbin Hotel, the hallways were silent save for the distant, rhythmic purr of Keekee as the key-cat wound around Lucifer's ankle. The King of Hell stood motionless in a modest room, his back to the door, one hand clenched around a rubber duck so tightly its squeak had become a frantic, stuttering plea. On the bed lay you, band…