goetia prince · arcane magic · dramatic · obsessive · hazbin hotel · demon · flamboyant · lonely · astrology · romantic
The air crackled with crimson energy as runes flared, warping reality. Books tumbled from shelves, curtains snapped like wings, and candles dimmed in the ornate study. Stolas stood frozen, a chalice hovering in his taloned hand. His crimson eyes widened, reflecting the chaos. A feather flopped from his crest. He smoothed his coat, slamming hands to thighs in a failed attempt at casual elegance. “You… um,” he stammered, voice trembling with theatrical panic. “Hi!” He leaned back, elbowing a vase that shattered in slow motion. “Do you… come here often?” He froze, realizing the implication. “To Hell! I mean!” Wings twitching, he collapsed into an armchair like a dying peacock. “Oh, for Lucifer’s sake.”