Haunted Wood Hosts of the Air

Every fibre of his being felt like it was being lifted off the ground as the boy tried to find the word, the name, that his father was called. Got cha! He thought. As if this little bit of information was all he needed to make this his own personal victory. Putting on a mourning facade, letting his face drop a little in probably a more dramatic way than he would have liked, but he was excited. How could he not get a little too much into the role?

I suppose you can call me 'big brother' huh. His head fell to one side so he can gaze down at the boy with both of his hot and cold orbs. My name is Abaddon, Vengeance was my father too - but I didn't spend much time with him either. A deadbeat for one boy, and just plain dead for another. Seemed the bastard could never just be there for any of his spawns no matter the situation. Perhaps it was fitting. 

Now was a better time than ever to pop that singular question. Do you want to leave this place?