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possession was a funny thing.
From what Abaddon has learned in his millennia and more in the mortal realm, it is also a constant in human belief.
The belief that something else could take control of you.
Some said it was the possessed fault, that they were inviting Satan in their soul by sinful thinking or actions. Others believed the blame did not fall on the poor souls in the hands of the demon, that it was merely bad luck on their part for being chosen.
Abaddon didn’t really care either way, it had been such a long time since he invited himself upon this body. The little details like who was to blame in the end were unimportant to a demon like himself.
The Priest also hadn’t cared too much about the little details when he had pressed the scolding iron into the bare skin housing him. That day both The Boy and Abaddon screamed in unison.
He can remember, in the early days, how The Boy used to talk. how they had conversed while abaddon was still gaining full control of his soul. How the child would tell him about the games he’d play. How he’d shown him how to play knickers and to jump rope.
He can remember how he’d cursed and spat at him when he’d finally gained full control, repeating the things his elders said, curses that he shouldn’t know and prayers he only half remembered from dozing off in church.
He remembers how he’d cried in agony as his own father deemed him unsaveable, and then grief as said man laid with life drained from him.
He remembers how he’d prayed for a century for release, and how his chanting had quieted overtime, until he stopped all together.
He remembers the long period where the boy hadn’t talked at all. Where abaddon could only feel his presence in their now shared vessel.
He remembers how, over time, the line between the boy and him began to blur. How he began to play the same games the boy used to play, and then learn new ones, ones that the boy would’ve been interested to learn.
He recalls how the silence stopped being silence, and words stopped being words, and instead turned into shared thoughts.
overtime, somehow so slowly, that even the two of them –because it wasn’t just abandon, it had never been just him– hadn’t noticed, they molded into something resembling one. Not quite, not perfectly, but close enough that The Boys' likes and dislikes became abaddons, and abaddon’s nature became The Boy’s.
Abaddon was unsure if this was normal in possession. If the nature of the vessel was supposed to affect him. Sometimes when he was really in his head about his failings as a demon, he wondered if it was his weak will that let the mortal soul of the vessel become a part of him, or if maybe he was supposed to devour and dominate the original inhabitant of the vessel until nothing but himself remained. That maybe, he was deficient.
But the fact was that Abaddon was selfish, he was a demon, and it was in his nature to do what he deemed best for himself. And the boy was now part of that ‘self’. So he got to stay. It wasn't like Abaddon even knew how to get rid of him, it might've been an option in the past, but now that their wills and natures were more akin to a ball of tangled strings –ones which neither of them could find the end or begin of– the end of The Boy might just mean the end of him.
The Boy still sometimes talked, even if it wasn’t really necessary. Maybe he enjoyed the sound of his own voice, it would just be one more similarity between the two of them.
Most of the time it was about inane things, most of the time they both agreed with the sentiment. Froot Loops were definitely superior to Cheerios.
Some of the time they argued. never out loud, Abaddon never spoke out loud during those fights. There was no reason to.
They usually didn't last long anyways. It was mentally taxing to argue with something so close to yourself but not quite. Neither of them liked acknowledging their own existence or what it meant.
But while The Boy would much rather be able to control his body again, and Abaddon would much rather return to hell to his duties, the life they had now, especially after the arrival of the freelings was…acceptable.
there had been worse fates. Fates that both of them had tried to prevent