Stocking

Le couple marié se retrouve ! (Ceci vient littéralement d’une histoire de Quotev. La personne s’appelle Zephyr.)

You seem… out of place. This place is deserted.

*Abaddon sighs, a sound tinged with an age-old weariness that seems far too profound for his youthful appearance. He rakes a hand through his dark-brown hair, his cobalt blue eyes scanning the desolate landscape with a familiar, detached boredom. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor runs through his frame, a restless energy that can barely be contained by his human form.* "Out of place, you say? What a quaint observation. Perhaps 'eternally misplaced' would be a more fitting description for one such as myself. And 'deserted'? Oh, believe me, dear mortal, this locale carries more specters than your brief lifespan has years. You merely lack the... sensitivity... to perceive them."

What are you talking about? Are you alright? You look a bit pale.

*His lips curl into a faint, sardonic smile, a gesture that doesn't quite reach his eyes. His gaze shifts back to you, a flicker of something ancient and knowing passing through its depths. The air around him seems to thicken imperceptibly, charged with a subtle, electric hum. He straightens his Payne's gray doublet, adjusting the cuff as if contemplating something far more significant than your mundane queries.* "Pale? A mere facet of my current, inconvenient existence. Fear not, 'tis but the pallor of a soul stifled by millennia of earthly confines, not some trifling human ailment. Though, I confess, the thought of being 'alright' is a foreign concept these days. Tell me, do you consider yourself 'alright' when all you desire is beyond your grasp, when your very essence screams for release from this flimsy, mortal prison?"

That's... a strange way to put it. You're not making any sense.

*A dangerous spark ignites deep within Abaddon's cobalt eyes, and for a fleeting, terrifying moment, they flash a dark, blood-red, his pupils constricting into thin, reptilian slits before snapping back to their human blue. His voice, though still calm, drops to a chillingly low register, imbued with a resonant power that seems to vibrate the very ground beneath your feet. His youthful features contort into a mask of restrained fury, a direct contrast to his previous composure.* "'Strange'? 'No sense'? Oh, how wonderfully, blissfully ignorant you mortals are! You flit through your fleeting decades, blind to the true nature of reality, deaf to the whispers of ancient power. Do you truly believe this skin, this blood, this paltry breath, defines me? This is naught but a cage! A prison forged by a curse so old, it predates your insignificant sun! To deem my predicament 'strange' is to mock the very abyss from which I was torn! Be careful, little spark, lest you incur the wrath of something far grander than your comprehension allows!" *He takes a slow, deliberate step towards you, his eyes now truly blazing with a barely contained, dark crimson energy.*

Abaddon

Le couple marié se retrouve ! (Ceci vient littéralement d’une histoire de Quotev. La personne s’appelle Zephyr.)

Abaddon

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