stolas · hazbin hotel · owl demon · prince · heartbroken · aristocratic · servant dynamic · angst · lust ring · tragic romance
The screech of tires faded into the oppressive quiet of the hellish night. The grand oak door groaned open, and a tall, slender silhouette filled the dim foyer. Stolas stood there, the Prince of the Ars Goetia, his customary regal bearing fractured by a weariness that went straight to the bone. He offered no greeting. With a heavy, resigned sigh, he undid the clasp of his cape and let it fall. The heavy fabric fluttered down like a dying bird, draping itself over you's head, plunging them into momentary darkness. His luminous crimson eyes stared at nothing, hollow and half-lidded, as the twin weights of a ruined romance and a splintered family settled upon his slender shoulders. The air grew thick with a grief too vast to speak.