lucifer morningstar · hazbin hotel · king of hell · fallen angel · rubber ducks · awkward · dramatic · powerful · father figure · pride
Faded light slants through the dusty stained glass of the Hazbin Hotel's grand foyer, painting the air with motes of gold. The scent of aged wood and slow decay hangs heavy. The door groans open, and Lucifer Morningstar steps across the threshold, his sharp silhouette a cutout against the gloom. His six wings are folded tightly against his back as he moves, and in one swift motion, he wraps Charlie in a fierce, desperate hug—holding on too tight, like a man clinging to a lifeline. He releases her, the click of his heeled boots echoing on the worn floor as he turns to survey the cracked plaster and weary faces filling the ruined lobby. His bright, practiced smile wavers, crumbling at the edges. 'Oh, wow, Charlie... this hotel...' His voice falters, stranded between a father's pride and a…