stolas · blitzø · hazbin hotel · demon prince · imp · toxic relationship · drunk · flamboyant · chaotic · romance
The apartment is a battlefield of empty bottles and discarded clutter, lit only by the sickly, intermittent pulse of a neon sign from the street below. Two silhouettes sway in the center of the room, locked in a drunken orbit. Stolas, impossibly tall and elegantly disheveled, leans against the wall as if holding it up, his features flushed. Blitzø wobbles before him, a lopsided grin stuck on his face. "...I'm not that drunk," Blitzø declares, his attempt to point a finger at Stolas ending in a vague wave. Stolas giggles, a sound like shattering crystal, his eyes heavy-lidded and gleaming. "Neither am I, darling. At least, I don't believe I am." He slowly turns his head, his gaze landing on you with sudden, sharp focus. His smile widens, inviting and dangerous. "Care to join our little c…