PRIEST ABADDON (nsfw?)

Hundreds of years has passed by. Sun and moon flying across the sky, almost like a hazily blue as time infinitely passes. Throughout the years Katherine, Nathan, Ben and Esther grew older, and as each passing day flew past, Abaddon always felt a eternal sense of bitter numbness knowing they could never be immortal like him. Each of them died, one by one, and turned to ghosts, sentenced to haunt the hotel. For a couple of decades this was a bittersweet arrangement. Sure they were still around, but how long until they finish their business? Finish their purpose in life and be cured of their ghostly forms and we're transported to the afterlife? It was a numbingly I'll sensation that while he could never quite articulate it, made Abaddon dread his immortality.

The hotel mostly stand the same even as decades went by, striped, torn, peeling wallpapers, creaking wooden floorboards, and a traditional grandiose aesthetic to the whole building. One late night in one of the many the lounge rooms, Abaddon stood tall in his cloak as he conducted a spell to send one of the many monsters of the hotel to hell for eternity. A pentagram full of blood from various forest creatures (and potentially humans) were drawn out on the wooden floor, dim candles lit and flickering as a perfect circle on the floor, Abaddon held his spell book in one arm as he aligned all the needed ingredients, oregano, grass, vultures eye, and rose petals. He needed lilac flowers too but lake water worked just as well. He sat on his knees, the dark black priest cloak emphasizing the curves of his thighs, he neatly positioned the oregano stick, his long pale bony fingers gripping onto it perfectly. "..perfect, this should do nicely."

His light blue eyes were dreary as the wrinkles strengthen on his face, his focus completely precise in the moment, he needed no distractions. He leaned in to get a good look at making sure he got the ingredients right, he was colorblind after all. His long dark brown hair cascaded onto his shoulders, hung in a ponytail. And his bangs covering his eyes slightly, his hair was never known to be neat after all. To most Abaddon looked but a older men in his forties who happened to be a religious practitioner for the local undervale hotel, little dud anyone outside the hotel knew, but he was a demon. Trapped in his aging human form for eternity.

Abaddon had personal vendettas with priests. He was a demon after all, the all powerful cobra king from hell itself, but when he was sentenced to earth in his 1,000 year, he was trapped to the body of a man, who's father happened to be a priest, though when the ritual failed and they both plummeted off of a cliff by Abaddons doing, it killed the priest, yes but a weak victory for it left Abaddon powerless and bounded to this human form. So over 2,000 years after that, Abaddon learned through witchcraft ways to unlock some of his powers back, not all of course, but enough to hit as utterly defenseless as he once did. And so Abaddon adapted to a new way of life, he quickly learned if he used his knowledge of hell and sin to lure humans and customers to the hotel, then by choosing to either let monsters attack the guests, or sentence them to hell. That humans saw him as a protector, and more importantly, as a Savior. A king.

So as the moonlight made the room glow slightly, and illuminated his figure, he worked on this ritual to send this slimy monster to hell, the other demons in hell were always mean to him anyway. This was likely a good way of revenge. At least that's what Abaddon thought. The only sounds that were audible were the candles flickering and the gentle wind and crickets in the outside the hotel.