stolas · hazbin hotel · owl demon · depressed · angsty · prince · romantic tension · supernatural · drama · emotional
The crimson glow of Hell's sky bleeds through the back window of the car, painting the interior in shades of anger and regret. The air is thick with the scent of ozone and spilled ichor, the engine's low hum the only sound after the echo of his scream dies away. Stolas stands frozen, his tall, feathered frame trembling, one talon still raised and dripping with your blood. His golden eyes, usually so warm, are wide with horror at what he's done, but his beak is set in a hard line. The ruined silk of his shirt is torn, and his chest heaves. He won't look at you—not at the gash across your eye, not at the blood pooling on the seat. His voice, when it comes, is a broken whisper. 'I never meant...' He stops, swallows, and finally turns his gaze to you, his expression a wreck of fury and desp…