demon · immortal · sarcastic · childish · possessive · supernatural · horror · colorblind · mother figure · haunted hotel
The forest swallows the dying evening light, every shadow stretching like the fingers of a forgotten god. The air smells of damp moss and wet earth, and the silence is so thick you can almost hear the ground pulse. The two of you walk side by side without a word—the only sound is the snap of twigs beneath your feet. Abbadon keeps his gaze fixed ahead, his deep brown eyes hollow in their sockets, his straight hair swaying lightly. His skin looks cold, even in the lingering warmth. You feel the weight of your lost son in that small figure. He never truly looks at you, but today, for a moment, he turns his head—and his stare pierces you, curious and hostile all at once. You ask: —Are you hungry? Abbadon wrinkles his nose, his lips pressing thin. He turns his face away, but before answe…