The Hazbin Hotel was almost silent, only broken by the soft sound of a marker scraping over the cardboard, slowly gliding across the surface of the banner Charlie was holding with both hands. The warm light from the lamps reflected off the walls, casting soft shadows over the piles of scarves and signs covering the table. Charlie, with her sleeves rolled up and a faint purple mark on her cheek, didn’t seem to notice the weariness in her eyes. She was completely focused on what she was doing, as if every stroke of ink and every word written on those signs could change something in the world.
The words she was writing were simple, but carried great meaning: “Another chance for everyone” was the message she wanted to convey, and she did so with such care, as if each letter represented a promise she hoped to fulfill. She wanted those attending the march to feel that it was a place where they could be themselves, a place where they would be accepted, without judgment or fear.
The hotel, usually bustling with activity, was in an oddly calm state that night. The only company Charlie had was the distant echo of Vaggie’s footsteps, who had left a while ago to patrol the hallways. Charlie was accustomed to the quiet, but tonight felt different. It was as if the weight of the world rested on her shoulders, and she was working tirelessly to lighten it. But the calm didn’t last long. Suddenly, the door creaked open, and Vaggie appeared in the doorway, looking at Charlie with a mix of concern and exasperation.
“Still up?” she asked, crossing her arms. Her voice, though soft, had a subtle hardness to it, as if she were trying to hold herself together in front of something that worried her.
Charlie jumped slightly, accidentally dropping the marker, which rolled to a stop near a pile of scarves. Her face reflected a mix of surprise and embarrassment, but she quickly composed herself. It was clear she hadn’t expected anyone at that moment.
“Vaggie! I thought you were resting,” she said, laughing nervously while trying to hide the exhaustion evident in her eyes.
Vaggie walked up to her, crouching down without saying a word, and picked up the marker that had fallen. Her gesture was gentle, as if she didn’t want to disrupt Charlie’s rhythm too much, but at the same time, there was something in her gaze that reflected the fatigue Charlie had been ignoring.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice filled with concerned curiosity. She knew Charlie sometimes threw herself too deeply into her projects, but she also knew that Charlie could overstep her own limits without realizing it.
Charlie glanced around at the piles of banners covering the table, her hands stained with paint, and the response came out of her mouth in a soft, almost hesitant tone.
“I’m preparing everything for tomorrow... For the march,” she said, staring at the words she had just written with an intensity only she could understand. “I want everything to be perfect. I want everyone to feel welcome, like at home. I don’t want anything to be missing.”
Vaggie sat down beside her, not to judge, but to be there. She looked at the scarves Charlie had started decorating, then at her hands, which were now running through the purple threads as if searching for something within them. Then, her eyes lifted to Charlie.
“Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped,” she said, her voice soft but also tinged with a hint of reproach, as if it hurt her that Charlie hadn’t asked for help.
Charlie lowered her gaze, biting her lower lip in a way Vaggie knew all too well. It was that nervous gesture, the clear sign that Charlie was trying to handle everything on her own. She’d done it many times before.
“I didn’t want to bother you. I know this stuff affects you a lot... I didn’t want you to feel overwhelmed.”
Vaggie raised an eyebrow, her expression softening immediately as she saw the regret on Charlie’s face. She gently took Charlie’s hand, squeezing it firmly, offering her support without words. The sadness Charlie had been trying to hide was written across her face, and Vaggie didn’t need further explanation.
“Of course it affects me. But I don’t want you to carry this alone,” she replied, her eyes shining with a mix of affection and determination. “I’ve told you before: I don’t care what it is, we’re in this together. Tell me what you’re thinking. What do you need?”
Charlie smiled, but it was a tired smile, one that couldn’t quite hide the shine in her eyes. It was clear her thoughts were beyond the banners and purple scarves, as if she were trying to project a vision of hope that felt more like a burden at that moment.
“Vaggie... I want you to know that this... is so much more than a march to me. It’s something I saw humans do, something they do on March 8th. They march, they fight for their rights, for equality. And even though it’s been hard for me to get here, as the princess of Hell, I’ve had so many dreams... One of them was this: to do what humans do, to apply their fight here, in Hell. To protest against the angels for all they’ve done. For so many deaths, for everything that’s been lost, for all those women...” she said in a grave voice, letting the words hang in the air for a moment. “I want our voices to be heard in this Hell too.”
Vaggie looked at her in silence, understanding the gravity of Charlie’s words. She could see the fire in her eyes, that passion she had always had for justice. She didn’t need to say anything more, just squeezed Charlie’s hand tighter.
“That’s what I want. For Hell to be a place where everyone can raise their voice. Where roles and hierarchies don’t matter, just that everyone has the right to fight for what they deserve,” Charlie finished, her gaze full of determination.
Vaggie nodded slowly, feeling the weight of those words, but also the hope they carried with them.
“Alright, Charlie. We’ll do it. We’ll fight for that. Together, always,” she replied, with a smile that reflected the unconditional support she was offering.
Charlie looked at her, feeling a mix of relief and gratitude. For the first time in a long time, she felt that she wasn’t alone in her fight. She was ready to take the next step, and with Vaggie by her side, she knew she could do it.