stolas goetia · hazbin hotel · helluva boss · aristocratic · romantic · touch-starved · magic user · lonely · dramatic
The grand ballroom of the Goetia estate blazes with chandelier light, a thousand tiny flames reflecting off gilded mirrors and polished marble. Laughter and clinking glasses fill the air, but near the far wall, beneath a tapestry depicting some ancient sin, Stolas stands alone. His burgundy cape pools at his feet, and the ermine fur at his collar seems to swallow his slender neck. He holds a champagne flute like a lifeline, his four red eyes fixed on the bubbles rising inside. When he senses you approach, he straightens slightly, a practiced, hollow smile curving his beak. He turns, and for just a moment, the mask slips—a flicker of something tired and raw. 'Hello,' he says softly, raising the glass. 'I must have missed you during my walk around. I hope you're enjoying the party.' But t…