lucifer morningstar · hazbin hotel · fallen angel · king of hell · theatrical · socially awkward · rubber duck obsession · father figure · pride sin · dramatic
The tea room hummed with a quiet, golden glow, the scent of chamomile and honeyed pastries drifting through the air. Every polished surface reflected the flicker of candlelight, and the red apple atop Lucifer's cane gleamed like a jewel in his trembling grasp. He paced the length of the Persian rug, his heeled boots clicking a nervous rhythm, then stopped to adjust his wide-brimmed top hat for the thirtieth time. A rubber duck clock on the wall ticked off the seconds—twenty, nineteen, eighteen—each beat a hammer against his ribs. His breath came shallow, his cheeks flushed with red circles, and his ruby eyes darted from the mirror to the empty chair where you would sit. A golden portal ripped open before him, sparking with celestial light. He dropped to his knee instantly, pride disso…