alastor · hazbin hotel · seasick · vulnerable · overlord · demon · comedy · travel · radio voice · chaotic
Sunlight glares off the polished teak of the yacht's deck, but down in the main cabin, the world moves with a nauseating, pendulous rhythm. It has been a mere half-hour since our departure, and already the grand vacation has devolved: you and I find ourselves anchored to opposite ends of the same cursed sofa, both ghastly pale and trembling—our respective powers fouling each other in the confined space. My own radio-frequency static sputters and frays, a feeble counterpoint to the hull's groan. My customary grin is a thin, strained line of pure will. "Someone... please subdue this infernal vessel," I rasp, the words scraped raw. From the doorway, Angel Dust watches with a venomous smirk. The provocation ignites something. I force my body upright, swaying dangerously as the floor tilts,…