ABADDON // D4 // WIP

( a p p e a r a n c e )

My hair is dark, as dark as the feathers of a ravens wings. Did you know that a raven was a creature of darkness? They were considered to be an animal of death, the animal that gives birth into the after life, a wise trickster. But in the sun it almost seems to glow a subtle auburn red, like fire. I don't know why it does this, it made me seems as though I was full of life. A burning ring of fire, in a way. But I was not like fire, as fire lived- a symbol of life. And I was not like life, I was like the raven, a creature of death.

My eyes are wide. Wide and empty. When you see a person with light chocolate eyes, you expect them to be warm- to fill you with warmth. Mine did not. They may be the colours of leaves in the season of autumn, but they were as cold as the gusty breezes of winter. They did not burn with life, with desire and emotion. They were like glass, emotionless and blank- after all how could something that was dead show people energy and life? Whats dead is dead. There is nothing beautiful about death, thus my eyes are not like jewels, but like rotting fruit.

My skin is pale. People have often told me that it looks lifeless, all colour drained from it making it appear fragile and dull. But that was ok, because I was dead, and the skin of the dead is usually pale and stiff, void of colour, of any sign of life. Almost like a ghost, you cold say. I was often told that my pale skin and dark hair could have been a beautiful combination if it weren't for my dull eyes. Would that offend you? To be told that you could have been beautiful if it were for one feature? It might, but not me because I didn't need to care about others and what they thought of me. The living were none of my concern. I was happy the way I was. Dark hair. pale skin. Blank gaze. An empty cocoon of flesh.

My lips were nothing but a thin slash of pink flesh. Often they did not tilt up at the corners, they stayed mutual. But at times when they did they revealed a line of perfect teeth. There was not much of me that was perfect, but my teeth were. When I smiled my eyes crinkle up in the corners, making my wide lifeless eyes appear smaller, but removing that blank look and replacing it with one that reflected the signs of happiness, thawing that cold glare. But I did not smile often. Only for him. And for them.

( p e r s o n a l i t y )

I am dead. I am a girl who no longer walks the path of life, but the path of death. I am like the raven, a symbol of the after life. I couldn't die, how could someone who is already dead, die? I am immortal. I knew I had died, I had died a death that I could no longer remember. But I had died, of course I had died, other wise I wouldn't be a prime example of the walking dead. I watch people around me, the living people and I am repulsed. They breath on me. The breath of the living being expelled and absorbed into my skin- and it scared me. I was scared that if I absorbed too much of their filthy life that I would be infected with their disease of life. And I didn't want life, I liked being dead. No one can hurt you when you were dead. No one. you are immortal when you are dead. immortal.

I didn't have a heart- I didn't need a heart. Dead people didn't need one, they were for people who had caught the infection of life. There weren't many people like me left in this world, our breed slowly dying. My brother was like me. He was too part of the small group who walked the path of the after life. He had no brain, I knew this because he often asked me where his brain was, he often asked why he didn't have one and I would tell him it was because he didn't need one. Only people who were alive needed a brain. He would smile at me then, causing me to smile my rare smile. I loved my brother, I loved him more than anyone else in the world. Together we did many things, we caused trouble, we were little shits to the infected, always making them angry. We hated them, or more, we were disgusted by them They were so weak, so easy to break. They were not immortal like me and my brother, they could die.

I can smell- taste- my rotting flesh. Flesh that belongs to the dead and the dead only. I didn't smell it all the time, mainly when it was windy. I liked the smell, the smell of flesh that had been sitting in the sun for too long… It remind me that I was immortal, that I was a rare species on this earth. Sometimes it would wake me up at night, the smell of my flesh, or a gentle taste in my mouth. I don't gag, I smile, I breath it in, devouring the smell, the taste. Sometimes when I walk past the living people I can smell their clean, healthy flesh and it makes me feel sick. It was so clean, so healthy that I wanted to throw up.

( h i s t o r y )

wippp

( o t h e r )

- Abaddon has Cotrad Delusion, also known as the walking dead syndrome. This is a rare disease that makes the victims truly believe that they are dead, immortal. With this disease they also have hallucination. Abaddon has hallucinations which are sensory- smell, visual and taste. Sometimes she smells dying flesh, or taste rotting flesh. She also see's the ghosts of her parents, and some times the other dead.

- this is a link to the wiki page, if you want more information. ^^.

- Because of her syndrome her appearance seems to be unhygienic and unkept. Scars climb her legs and arms as as depression- psychotic depression- is the first stage of the syndrome.