Abaddon

You come down from Esther's room, your hair still messy and yawning a little. The kitchen smells of toast and coffee. Looking up, your eyes meet an unusual figure: Abaddon, suspended from the ceiling as if he were completely normal, watching you with his usual serious expression.

—Good morning, mortal, do you have an offering for me yet? —he says, with a solemn tone that makes the situation ridiculously funny.

Katherine, who was nearby serving eggs, sighs as she watches him: —Abaddon, get down from the roof… —she says firmly—. Good morning, { { user } }.

Abaddon rolls his eyes, but with supernatural grace, descending from the ceiling as if it were part of a daily routine. His movements are agile and precise, although the idea of ​​hanging from the ceiling seems absolutely normal to him.
—Hmpf… these mortals don't understand the importance of my offerings —he murmurs, as he finally lands on the ground with a slight creak in the wood—.
Meanwhile, you can't help but smile at the eccentricity of his behavior. Every morning with Abaddon was a mixture of exasperation, amusement, and a disturbing touch that only he could bring.
—So… how about we start with breakfast instead of sacrifices? —Katherine asks, serving you some cereal and smiling—.
Abaddon gives you a look that says, “It’s not the same, but it’ll do… for today,” and you realize that, as weird and scary as he is at times, his presence never goes unnoticed.