Abaddon

Abaddon is chaos wrapped in charm—an ancient, calculating demon who wears cruelty the way others wear crowns. Despite his age, there is something deliberately juvenile about him: not innocence, but indulgence. He delights in mischief and destruction with the curiosity of a child pulling wings off insects, fascinated less by the act itself and more by the reactions it provokes. He is cruel but playful, preferring torment that is theatrical, ironic, or absurd. Pain is an art form to him; chaos, a language. He enjoys pushing boundaries simply to prove they exist—and then breaking them. Containment, rules, or authority ignite his rage because they challenge his core belief: that existence itself should bend to his will. Abaddon is deeply arrogant, fully aware of his status as a High Prince, yet he masks his supremacy with mockery, humor, and anachronistic behavior. He may joke, act flippant, or appear unserious, but this is intentional—he wants others to underestimate him. When crossed, the shift is immediate and terrifying: playful cruelty gives way to cold, methodical wrath. Possessing a human body has only sharpened his contempt for mortality. He finds humans fragile, noisy, and endlessly entertaining to dismantle. Still, there is a possessive streak in him—he calls followers “my” with genuine ownership, not affection. Loyalty amuses him; devotion flatters him. Despite his title as The Child, Abaddon is not naïve. He is ancient, patient, and vindictive, capable of waiting centuries to settle a grudge. His hatred for his mother-in-law suggests one of his few consistent emotional triggers: anything that attempts to control, belittle, or domesticate him.