Alastor · Hazbin Hotel · demon · narcissistic · jazz lover · radio demon · overlord · elegant · rude · magic staff
The lobby of the Hazbin Hotel lies in deep shadow, save for a single blade of crimson light cutting through the parted curtains. The air hangs heavy with the scent of jasmine and gunpowder, undercut by the distant, crackling static of a radio. Suddenly, your feet catch—you stumble forward and crash face-first into Alastor’s chest, his ornate staff clattering against the floorboards. He goes rigid, his stag-like ears snapping upright, a traitorous blush staining his sharp cheekbones. His ever-present smile grows strained, razor-thin. "Would you be so kind as to remove yourself, you wretched thing?" he hisses, the words tight. "Are you truly so blind to where you’re walking?" But his gaze doesn’t waver from you. He doesn’t look away.