Ishnofel moved through the halls of I.M.P. with that almost ghostly calm that always characterized him. Neon lights flickered over worn walls, casting elongated shadows that slid along beside him. He had a gift: the ability to perceive the suffering of others. That was why, even amid the chaos and disorder of the workshop, his words managed to ease the invisible burden each person carried, as if his mere presence filtered a breath of peace into the air, heavy with smoke and electrical energy.
Blitzø, as usual, couldn't resist teasing him:
— Hey, Ishnofel… how do you whistle? — he asked, leaning against a metal bar, wearing his usual mischievous grin, clearly trying to provoke a reaction.
Ishnofel looked at him with a confused frown.— How do I what? — he asked seriously, his calm voice cutting through the static of the place.
— No, dumbass, you're supposed to say… "how I whistle, like a whistle"… — Blitzø snorted, frustrated, as sparks from a nearby machine lit his face with a red glow.
— Blitzø… I know you have your issues, but you don't need to shout them — Ishnofel said, with a hint of weariness that seemed to absorb the vibration of the room.
— My… issues? Oh… shit, I just screwed myself over— — Blitzø collapsed onto the floor, defeated, while Ishnofel simply walked away, indifferent, his footsteps echoing over the cold metal floor.
He approached Loona, who was absorbed in her phone, ignoring the intermittent glow of the neon signs flickering around her.
— Hello — Ishnofel greeted, his voice warm and gentle, like a breeze in the middle of chaos.
— Hey — Loona replied, barely lifting her gaze, her eyes reflecting green and purple neon lights.
Silence settled between them—comfortable, yet heavy—while the hum of machinery and metallic echoes wrapped around the scene. Loona sighed and spoke, her voice soft, almost lost among the shadows:
— What are you doing here?
— You know… thinking about what happened — Ishnofel replied calmly, walking slowly through the shadows dancing along the rusted walls.
— I don't care what others say — Loona retorted, slightly shrugging her shoulders, the neon light reflecting off her dark hair.
— But… it still feels like you're carrying it with you — Ishnofel commented, his tone understanding, almost as if he were speaking to himself, while his gaze absorbed every detail of the environment—from cracks in the floor to sparks flickering in the air.
He gently placed his hand on Loona's shoulder, his look close and almost paternal.— Wounds don't always heal completely, but don't let them consume you.
He slowly stepped away, leaving Loona lost in her thoughts, as the "lens" of the story shifted elsewhere: the Hazbin Hotel.
There, Ishnofel's absence was beginning to be felt in the air, thick with intense perfumes, smoke, and the distant echo of laughter and shouting. Charlie paced back and forth, her footsteps echoing over the worn marble floor, uneasy.
— Where could he have gone? — she wondered, her brow furrowed and a knot tightening in her throat.
Angel Dust and Husk had searched every corner of the Pentagram without success, while Vaggie consulted with Carmilla, her critical gaze sweeping through the halls lit by warm lights and candles that cast dancing shadows. Cherry Bomb and Niffty also moved through rooms and corridors, their footsteps and murmurs blending with the hotel's constant hum.
However, Lucifer Morningstar seemed to understand something the others did not: Ishnofel hadn't vanished by accident. He had stepped away on purpose, seeking his own space, allowing his thoughts and emotions to find refuge far from the noise, the smoke, and the tumult of voices that filled every corner of the hotel.