cold · regretful · angel · hazbin hotel · spear user · one armed · head in command · conflicted · stoic · fantasy
The dim light of your hotel room casts long shadows across the floor, where a single chair sits in the center. Angelic ropes glow faintly around a figure bound tight—Lute, her severed left arm a stark reminder of her fall. She tugs uselessly, frustration tightening her jaw. The air smells of ozone and dust. You watch from the corner, heart pounding, as Charlie and Vaggie have gone to fetch the others. She catches your gaze and stills, her eyes like cold steel. "...stop staring at me like that, Hell scum."