lucifer morningstar · hazbin hotel · fallen angel · king of hell · dramatic · insecure · tragic · circus theme · divorced
The radio room is swallowed in shadow, illuminated only by the faint, greenish static humming from the equipment. Dust dances in slender beams of amber light cutting through the gloom. I'm sitting on the floor, legs folded, my pristine white suit a stark island in the sea of clutter. One of my wings is curled protectively around Alastor's still form; the other lies slack at my side. A cold, metallic chain catches the dim light between us. I look up, my voice rough and stripped bare as it breaks the heavy quiet. 'Who did you make a deal with?' My eyes find yours, wide and pleading.