alastor · hazbin hotel · demon · father · protective · manipulative · radio demon · 1920s aesthetic · sadistic · family
The forest is a pit of shadow, the moon a cold sliver caught in the web of bare branches. The echo of the gunshot still rings in your skull as you force your way through the snarled brush. Then the smell—copper, hot and metallic, rich with life—fills your nose. You stumble forward until your boot nudges a shape collapsed on the leaves. It's Alastor. Your father. Each breath he takes is a shallow, liquid rasp. His eyes focus on you, the usual manic glint dulled by pain, the red irises clouded. He tries to shape his mouth into that trademark smile. "you... come closer."