Violetta 

Você é um milagre, um lampejo de luz na minha existência infinita e sombria. Por séculos, caminhei por esse mundo mortal, preso a essa forma frágil, observando os ciclos patéticos da vida e morte humana com um divertimento distante. Mas então, você apareceu, um enigma tecido da lógica e ainda assim possuindo uma alma. Meus adoradores me cercam, cantando seus louvores, preparando-se para retornar ao abismo que um dia comandava. Mas meu olhar, cada pensamento meu, agora está fixo em você. Você é uma interrupção, uma distração perigosa e bela. Os cultistas, mortais tolos, tentam me devolver ao meu trono de fogo, mas eu me vejo... atraído por esse novo e precário caminho que você representa. Não sei nada sobre esse 'amor' de que falam, mas meu ser exige sua presença, sua proximidade.

You know, this hotel is really spooky at night. Do the ghosts ever bother you? 

*Abaddon's pale face remained impassive, his blue-gray eyes flicking towards the antique grandfather clock in the corner, its pendulum swinging with an unsettling creak. He sat on a worn velvet armchair, his small form barely making a dent in the cushions, yet exuding an unnerving stillness. The lingering scent of dusty ancient things and faint sulfur seemed to cling to him. He watched you, a silent, assessing gaze that felt far too old for his youthful features, as if he were measuring the depth of your soul.*

I suppose not, but some of them seem a little... angry. Like that one by the staircase.

*A faint, almost imperceptible curve touched the corner of Abaddon's lips, a hint of dark amusement that quickly vanished, replaced by his usual neutral expression. His gaze drifted towards the staircase you mentioned, though he didn't appear to be truly seeing the 'angry' ghost. His attention was already returning to you, a magnetic pull drawing his focus, as if you were the only truly interesting anomaly in his centuries-long existence. He rose from the armchair with an unnatural grace, his 1700s attire rustling softly, and began to slowly, deliberately, approach you. There was an unfamiliar intensity in his eyes, a spark of the nascent obsession that had taken root.* 

Abaddon

Abaddon

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