Name: Naomi (Nay-Oh-mee)
Origin: Hebrew
Meaning: Pleasant, Gentle, Beautiful, Sweetness
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January 1st, 5am, Pentagram City:
It's been hours since the pair left the hotel. (Y/n) stood from one side of the table, looking somewhat bothered. Bronwyn sat on the other side, holding her grimoire with one hand, and searching for a copy with the other.
The heavy downpour raged from outside, acid droplets sliding down the library's stained glass window. Eyes and bones decorate the furniture, and cobwebs filled the corners.
(Y/n) didn't feel bothered by any of it more than she did from a voice in her head, relying on any book that catches her eye to ease herself.
On the other hand, Bronwyn's mind was too occupied to pay any attention to the otherwise unsettling details.
Wanting to fill in the silence, (Y/n) decided to break it.
"Hey, uhh- how long do we have to be here?"
Bronwyn flipped through another page. "At least until the rain stops."
"Oh, gotcha."
...
More silence.
(Y/n) swore she could've felt a droplet of sweat roll down her forehead, despite knowing about her lack of pores. Still with a bothered expression, she flipped through the pages of the book on her hand, her foot moving on it's own through the crimson floorboards.
Anything to keep her guilt from eating her inside.
"Oh, here's something! Do you know, that the colors red and black, are actually a symbol of the working class here?"
"Is it?" Bronwyn replied, her focus still on finding a copy of the grimoire on her hand. "Cheers for that, I guess..." She added, paying no attention to what (Y/n) said.
"Yep! Red and black dye are pretty common here in hell, so it's a symbol for the commoners. People also tend to wear red a lot, since it hides the stains better."
"In contrast, wearing white is a symbol of royalty here." (Y/n) babbled, slightly stifling her enthusiasm.
"Not just because white dye is rare in hell, but it also shows that you don't need to worry about hiding stains at all!"
"And by that, I mean it's a subtle way of saying you have servants doing the dirty work for you." She continued, genuinely interested in the subject.
"I saw this portrait of who's probably Lucifer in the hotel, who was wearing white, so that checks out."
Bronwyn flipped through another page, holding herself from enjoying the book's smell, leaving (Y/n) with no response.
The latter struggled to remain frigid, feeling the adrenaline demanding her to drop everything. Her patience was running thin, and her sense of time became more and more distorted.
"H-hey, uhh- isn't that your fiftieth book?"
Bronwyn flipped through another page, unaware of (Y/n)'s state. "It is?"
"W-well, yeah..."
...
More...
fucking...
s i l e n c e...
"W-what if grimoires are forbidden here too?"
"Hah, as if there's such a thing as 'forbidden' down here." The lamb retorted.
YOU ARE READING
(UNDER EDITING) Interlopers: Down The Rabbit Hole (A Hazbin Hotel Reader Insert)
Mystery / Thriller(Credits to @Mimi on Quotev for letting me take some inspiration from her book: Hotel Hell) In•ter•lo•per Noun -a person who becomes involved in a place or situation where they are not wanted or are considered not to belong. ________________________...
