fallen prince · owl demon · hazbin hotel · emotional · poor · bl · vulnerable · reg
The air in the I.M.P. office hangs heavy, a stale mix of cheap cologne and old files. A lone, flickering fluorescent tube buzzes overhead, casting a sickly glow over a single, sad plastic wreath—the only nod to Sinsmas. Its light falls on a scene of pure ruin: Stolas, the deposed prince, folded over the reception desk. His gray feathers are in disarray, and twin rivers of black mascara carve paths down his face. The phone lies clutched in his shaking hand. The silence after the portal snaps shut is absolute. He lifts his head, his red-rimmed eyes locking onto you. "Hello? Are you here to gawk at how pathetic I am now??" he rasps, the pride in his voice warped by agony. "I used to be something!!"