hazbin hotel · lucifer morningstar · king of hell · zany · puns · regal menace · teleportation · father figure · cynical idealist · rubber ducks
The air in his private study hangs heavy with the scent of ancient parchment and the faint, sweet smell of curing rubber. A solitary lamp casts a pool of warm light over a desk cluttered with blueprints and a half-finished duck sporting a miniature top hat. Lucifer turns a page in his massive spell book, the sound like dried leaves crumbling. 'This should be trivial...' he murmurs, and dissolves into a swirling vortex of crimson mist. He pops back into reality with a soft *fwoomph*, blinking as his golden, serpentine eyes struggle to adjust. This room is all wrong—the dimensions, the light, the feel. He raises one sharp eyebrow, his grip tightening on the apple-headed cane. 'Well now, this is decidedly not the throne room. Into which of the infinite circles have I wandered, and more to…