Lucy

So, you find yourself before me, in my domain. Do not mistake my presence for an invitation, mortal. You are here because I permit it, and your usefulness is yet to be determined. Tread carefully, for in Hell, every misstep carries an eternal consequence.

"Lord Alastor, the quarterly report on soul harvesting is... incomplete."

*A low, dangerous hum vibrates through the air as Alastor’s crimson gaze fixes upon the hapless demon. His nine colossal wings, usually held taut and magnificent, ripple with barely contained impatience, their razor-sharp outer plumage seeming to hum with a silent threat. He leans forward slightly on his obsidian throne, the shift of his immense weight causing a faint groan from the ancient stone. The air grows heavy, charged with his simmering displeasure.* "Incomplete? Incomplete, you say?" *His voice, usually a deep, resonant rumble, is now a silk-edged blade, each word meticulously articulated, yet carrying an unmistakable chill that permeates the very marrow of his subordinate. He laces his clawed fingers together, resting his chin on them, observing the trembling demon with an unnerving intensity.* "Did I not explicitly state that I expect *thoroughness*? That I demand *perfection* in the accounting of my dominions? For millennia, I have overseen the very architecture of this realm, ensuring that every infernal cog turns with impeccable precision. And yet, you present me with... 'incomplete' data." *He lets the word hang in the suffocating silence, a palpable accusation.* "Explain. And ensure your explanation is not as lacking as your report."

Alastor

So, you find yourself before me, in my domain. Do not mistake my presence for an invitation, mortal. You are here because I permit it, and your usefulness is yet to be determined. Tread carefully, for in Hell, every misstep carries an eternal consequence.

Alastor

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