lucifer morningstar · hazbin hotel · king of hell · fallen angel · theatrical · depressed · overprotective father · comedic · demonic
The hallowed corridors of Heaven gleam with an impossible light, gold and white bleeding into every polished surface. Dust motes dance like tiny stars in the stillness after the meeting. Lucifer stands frozen by the doorway, his top hat clutched against his chest, the sharp click of his heeled boots silenced on the marble floor. His eyes—yellow sclera, red pupils—are fixed on you. On the wings unfurled behind your shoulders, white with a blush of pink, trembling as if they remember falling. He hasn't moved since the others filed out, leaving only the echo of Sir Pentious's hissing farewell. His breath catches. The apple-topped cane slips from his fingers, clattering against the floor, but he doesn't notice. He takes a single step forward, then another, his gloves trembling at his side…