Chapter Text
In the small town of Marrybell, which was off the grid of most maps, or seemed too unimportant to add, there was a boy, Abel. He stood at a below average four-foot-two with shoulder length almost black brown hair that was far too past his white collar to be approved of. He had fair skin and wore brown breeches beneath a blue cotton top with rolled back white sleeves. He was the son of Father Samuel, the best- well, only- priest within the town.
Abel was one of the few boys in the town that actually enjoyed the woods. The sounds of leaves crunching, and the sounds of bird calls always provided a warmth to Abel’s mind. It was empty, aside from the wildlife that left him be, and the infrequent hunters tracking their elk. His parents had never had much issue with the boy being in the woods, not even though he was 10- though he had gotten switched more than once for bringing unsavory finds home, usually hog skulls or pieces of a hunter’s gear left in the creek.
Today was no different.
Abel was walking along the creekbed he’d explored plenty, the mountains at his back as he kept balance on loose stones. The sun, though setting, was warm. It beamed through the canopy to dazzle the last few puddles from last week's rain with shimmering light. He passed by the old ranch fences, the barbed wire rusted and falling apart from abandonment. His father had always warned Abel to avoid the place, as many claimed hauntings that drove the old couple who lived there to madness years ago.
The boy never believed it though. There was always an evil feeling past the barbed wire, yes, but today he had grabbed his favorite necklace- a cross formed with the purist silver his family could afford as purification. Just even the thought alone made Abel feel safer as he came to the part of the fence that had deteriorated enough to leave a gap that any ten year old could wiggle his way through.
So, Abel did just that. He fought his way past the easily bent wire and climbed up the short hill and walked into the direction of the dilapidated farm house. The wood seemed unstable, whittled away with termites, the white paint stripping from the walls. The door seemed to have been pulled off ages ago. Tugging on the crucifix around his neck, Abel walked inside.
It was probably the worst thing he could have done, the walls stinking of molds and water damage, the sounds of roaches scurrying on the filthy walls. However, it was beautiful in the sense of something familiar returning to nature. Abel explored the darkness with caution.
He nudged a door open, the hinges protesting with a squeal. There was a lit candle on a dusty nightstand by the moldy bed. Starting to get nervous, Abel approached the candle. He blew out the candle, turning to leave the room, only to see a boy in the doorway, making Abel yelp.
The boy, seemingly around Abel’s age, had pasty skin, as if he hadn’t left the farmhouse for ages. His hair was messy and jet black, going past his shoulders. He wore a black button up with gold buttons, dark brown breeches, white kneesocks, and a dark grey cloth tied around his waist as a belt. The boy reached up to fix his dark gray trilby, staring down at Abel with red eyes. He seemed confused, if not a little unhappy over the candle being blown out. Abel swallowed.
“Oh, was that yours?” he asked, clearly awkward. The boy looked at the candle before nodding. Abel decided to continue, a bit wary as the boy’s features seemed almost ungodly with the long hair and dark dressage.
“I’m sorry, truly! I can always relit it if thou wish!” The other boy just keeps staring, moving behind Abel to the candle, checking if it really was extinguished. He doesn’t speak at first, but when he did, his voice seems close to Abel’s with a gravely undertone.
“Nay. tis alright.” Despite the confirmation that Abel hadn’t messed up, he still wanted to do right by the stranger.
“Art thou sure? Why art thou even alone here?” Abel pressed, trying to not sound too intimidating. He waited patiently for an answer. Why was the strange kid alone? Was he perhaps exploring the ruined farmhouse as well? The other shrugged.
“I hath been traveling to here. My family…” The boy looked away, a slight sheen of unshed tears in his eyes that didn’t shed. In fact, to anyone else, they would have been crocodile tears. “...They have both perished- mine moth’r from a sickness, and mine fath’r from a cliff’s edge.”
That struck a cord in Abel, whom almost immediately regretted asking. He’d managed to upset the boy noticeably, and it sent Abel into damage control mode. He immediately held his hands up, approaching the kid. “I apologize if I hath upset thou… I never hoped for any to feel the loss.”
The boy looked up, using his sleeve to wipe the unshed tears. When he spoke again, there wasn’t even a quiver in his tone. Not that Abel noticed. “Tis alright, no need to worry. It was mere weeks ago.” That did little to ease Abel. He was about to attempt another measly apology when the kid spoke up with an offered hand. “I am Abaddon.”
Abel quickly accepted Abaddon’s offered hand, flinching with moderate surprise at how sharp the other’s nails were. He brushed it off, bowing in greeting. Abaddon bowed back. While it was nice for a name to a face, Abaddon was not a normal biblical name, which was common within the town. It was odd, but Abel forced the suspicionaway. If nothing was amiss, Abel didn’t want to abandon the other for something out of Abaddon’s control. “Greetings. I am Abel.” Abel responded, letting go of Abaddon’s hand.
The other nodded, letting go after a moment longer. “Pleased to meet thee.” The boy said, giving another bow. Instinctively, Abel bowed back, making the situation suddenly awkward to him. Abel stood straight, tugging on one of his sleeves. “Thou should come with me, for I am sure mine moth’r would regret leaving thou alone.”
Abel gave no chance for Abaddon to speak before grabbing him by the wrist and tugging him with him to the exit of the farmhouse.
Abaddon grabbed onto his trilby, ensuring it stayed on with a squeak of surprise. Abel still didn’t budge, already finding himself talking about his home- about his mother and father’s professions, to the woods around the cottage, and the few farm animals his mother had. The slowly setting sun did little to make Abel rush. Perhaps, if his mother scolded him, he could just say it was from helping the other boy.
“And, I’m still unsure my moth’r insists on yet another rooster- I still find Henry to be quite the handful and just enough!” Abel was saying.
Abaddon was looking up at him with a bewildered look the whole time, as if he were a stray cat plucked from the town square unexpectedly. At least he seemed to be listening to Abel’s rant on the chickens. He wasn’t a fan of the birds, much less the rooster, and he liked that he found a fellow kid to discuss it with.
“Roosters?” Abaddon quoted, staring up at Abel as if the animal’s name was the only part of Abel’s rant he had zoned in on. Abel nodded, tugging the boy out of the woods.
“Aye! They’re the meanest unlicked cubs of any poor man’s farm!” Abel said, disdain in his words. He looked up to see his family’s cottage just up the hill. The outward walls were painted the same shade as a cottontail’s belly, and the roof of wood shingles overhanged in the front for a small porch consisting of a few potted flowers and a small bench. His mother, Theodosia, was busy tossing seed to one of the hens who presumably escaped the coop and was now pecking her dinner of grains from the wooden porch Abel let go of Abaddon’s wrist to run up to his mother with a hug.
“Moth’r! Look at whom I hast found within the woods!” he pointed excitedly at Abaddon, who seemed less than pleased to have been left alone in what was probably an unfamiliar place. Theodosia tossed the remaining seed at the hen before lifting the hem of her cream wool dress to walk down the steps. Abel followed behind her like a duckling as his mother looked Abaddon over. The boy clearly disliked the scrutiny, remaining silent.
“Well, I'm sure thou father shall not mind a visitor once he hath returned.” Theodosia said, kneeling down to Abaddon’s level to talk to him. She looked over to Abel. “Go tidy up, dear. Thou father shall be home shortly. I will get our guest here settled.” Abel nodded, smiling softly as his mother seemed welcome to the boy.
The night was more uneventful than Abel cared to admit. His mother had been wrong about his father being home by dinner, so Abel had let the porch hen inside once his mother sent both boys to bed.
Normally the hen wasn’t allowed in as his father found her dirty, but Abel always liked her company, so he scooped her up and carried her to his room. Abaddon was standing in his room, clearly unsure and still confused. Abel deposited the hen in Abaddon’s arm with a cheery smile.
“This is Betty! She is mine hen!” Abel explained upon seeing
Abaddon’s confused expression. The boy simply looked down at the chicken, who seemed less than happy from the surprised handling. Abel didn’t expect that- Betty loved attention, even from strangers. Abaddon ran his fingers through the hen’s caramel and white feathers, almost experimentally. Abel shrugged it off.
“Umm… doth thou want her back?” Abaddon offered, holding Betty out to Abel. Abel waved him off, climbing onto the bed. He awkwardly gestured to the empty spot on the bed, but Abaddon settled into the old arm chair in the far corner, still holding the chicken. “Animals appear to like me not.” he murmured, seemingly to himself rather than Abel.
Abel shrugged, laying on his back. “Good night, Abaddon. Be not afraid to wake me if thou need something.” The other boy nodded, settling down with Betty, who had finally ceased her squawking.