mom said its my turn to be a cult leader

abaddon, poisoning aniela: mom said its my turn to be a cult leader

     

There was always a moment, he found, to contemplate. This time to think was by no means to be taken as a show of remorse- in fact, it could be considered a way to circulate, in his mind, the viciously cruel way he lead. For beneath his strong, charismatic voice, one that spat strong commands with firm conviction, lay an acerbic cruelty; one that mocked the very nature of his pseudo-sermons. He smiles, softly. Perhaps the means in which he conquered land contradicted that, too- he knew that well, and perhaps didn’t care.  

For a moment, he pauses, before he continues walking down the hall. Even the very nature of his stride had such a distinct air of confidence to it; each click of his heel seemed well to accentuate his presence, made it clear to any passerby that he was a man of importance. There was a malignant grace to it, anyone had found, but one that lacked uncertainty or clumsiness. 

Stopping at the end of the hall, he sets his eyes upon the door ahead. His mind echoed an active crowd’s praise, one that sung vicious songs of his eminence. He smiles. He knew well the prestige he held, and knew how best to use it. Breaking from his train of thought, he twists the doorknob, contemplatively, and lets it open quietly.

The room was lavish- quite expectantly so, given the vain nature of its inhabitants. Within it lay a figure Abaddon knew well. Long, white hair splays around his luxurious clothes. He stays sprawled out on the velveteen couch, clearly bored, but taking in the opulent environment. He fans himself with his hand, and, with his other hand, precariously balances a wine glass between his fingers. It seems then, that he almost doesn’t notice the door creak open.

Almost.

Until he turns and, in an otherwise failed attempt to hide his excitement, lets out an exaggerated gasp. He puts his glass down, clasping his hands together. “Abaddon!” He pulls himself to a stand, running over to the vampire’s side. Abaddon chuckles, wrapping a strong arm around him. Ezra continues, his voice soft but with a clear, excited lilt. “I already know the answer, of course,” Ezra, to match, wraps his arms around Abaddon’s waist, “but I figure it went well?”

“It did.” Abaddon smiles, but his expression is accentuated by that underlying malice. His words, simple as they were, dripped toxicity. Many would run, but Ezra stayed close- he adored it, woke up every day to witness how absolutely terrible he man he admired was. Pulling Abaddon onto the couch with him, he watches him with absolute thrill- before the cult leader had even spoken, he was ready to listen with every ounce of attention he’d had. “Tell me everything.” Ezra’s voice is breathy; that reverent dedication, want, to hear everything Abaddon had to say ruled him.

Abaddon, on the other hand, adored that devotion. How he’d longed, for years, to feel worshipped like he once was- to have that undying fidelity all for his own. He knew Ezra loved to be used, and he could do nothing but indulge the man in it. Brushing a hand through the dainty’s hair, he speaks, his voice permeating that strong confidence. “Nothing entirely out of the ordinary,” His voice is thoughtful, contemplative, as he looks off, “we’ve brought more people in, by means of force. Of course, we always find our way. It was a successful day of that. I can say, at least, we have thousands of new members.” Knowingly, he smiles- but something eerily haunting lies behind it.

“Ah!” Ezra seems delighted, wrapping his hands around Abaddon’s and squeezing. “As wonderful as that is, it pained me to be apart from you! Don’t take that long next time, will you?” With an air of performance, he drapes himself across Abaddon’s lap. Abaddon entertains it, brushing a hand against his cheek. Their affection always seemed to have an air of that distinct dramatism,  “Devastating, I know.” He pause, “You could always come.” 

Instead of theatrically brushing it off, Ezra pauses. Indeed, the premise of seeing his idol in action was nothing short of exhilarating to him. Fleetingly, he’d heard his sermons, but never to their full, domineering extent. It was a side of Abaddon he’d seen scarcely- but that absolute, raw strength Abaddon showed around him is what made Ezra the most thrilled. “Perhaps I’ll have to take you up on that.” It was conflicting, truly— how he’d love to see the man he loved exhibiting no mercy, but how much he’d loved staying at home. “I’ll think about it.” Hazily, he moves his hand up, rubbing Abaddon’s cheek. “Tell me more. Was there resistance?”

“Of course. You know it was nothing I couldn’t deal with.” He sneers, with an expression that screamed cruelty. Ezra could feel himself slipping into that callous smile. “Naturally! You always know how best to deal with it.” Nodding once, Abaddon closes his eyes, his lips still pursed in a content smile. “But there’s more to do.” 

Pausing, Ezra leans up, throwing his hands around Abaddon’s neck. He leans up to plant a deep kiss on his lips, grinning as he did. “I know.” His lips ghost close to Abaddon's, not touching, as he whispers, “Nothing I wouldn’t want to see you do.”

Abaddon looks down to Ezra, curiously. In his eyes reflected nothing but the truth- that burning fascination he had of the dainty. And yet, he found a sense of adoration for him- indeed, he could find it in himself to love him. He closes his eyes once more. What an interesting man.