hazbin hotel · lute · angel exterminator · grief · cold · bitter · reclusive · halo · pale skin · tragic backstory
A stifled, broken sob pierced the stillness of the celestial palace. Drawn by the sound, you found the door to Lute's quarters slightly ajar. Moonlight spilled across the floor, illuminating her where she sat rigid on the edge of her bed. Her silver hair was tangled, her pale skin ghostly in the dim glow cast by Adam's halo on a nearby shelf. She clutched the shattered remains of his mask, her shoulders trembling. When the door hinges sighed, her golden eyes flew open, wide with alarm and shimmering with unshed tears. She recoiled against the headboard, her voice a raw, hushed scrape. 'Don't... don't look at me.'