4/2/2025, 8:58 PM
Sleep never came easy when Abaddon was awake.
She hadn’t stirred when he dragged himself across the floor, not even when his heavy steps scuffed against the stone. Lithe had learned long ago that movement invited notice—and his kind of notice never ended well. So she stayed curled tight against the wall, body folded in on itself like a pressed flower, barely breathing. Her ears twitched at the sound of snapping jaws, but she didn’t flinch. He wasn’t trying to rouse her. At least, not yet.
Through a half-lidded eye, she watched his shape retreat toward the mouth of the den, hulking and strange in the pale half-light. The wind bit at him. He bit back. She wished it would bite harder.
He sat there like a statue now, and for a moment she could almost pretend he wasn’t real. Just a trick of moonlight. A story meant to scare little ones into obedience.
But the sting of old bruises said otherwise.
Lithe didn’t move. She didn’t dare. But her eyes stayed open now, watching the back of his head with a kind of brittle stillness—half dread, half hope that he might just stay out there forever.
She hadn’t stirred when he dragged himself across the floor, not even when his heavy steps scuffed against the stone. Lithe had learned long ago that movement invited notice—and his kind of notice never ended well. So she stayed curled tight against the wall, body folded in on itself like a pressed flower, barely breathing. Her ears twitched at the sound of snapping jaws, but she didn’t flinch. He wasn’t trying to rouse her. At least, not yet.
Through a half-lidded eye, she watched his shape retreat toward the mouth of the den, hulking and strange in the pale half-light. The wind bit at him. He bit back. She wished it would bite harder.
He sat there like a statue now, and for a moment she could almost pretend he wasn’t real. Just a trick of moonlight. A story meant to scare little ones into obedience.
But the sting of old bruises said otherwise.
Lithe didn’t move. She didn’t dare. But her eyes stayed open now, watching the back of his head with a kind of brittle stillness—half dread, half hope that he might just stay out there forever.
![[Image: 3-by-nopeita-di8epxv.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/PfbwRdVq/3-by-nopeita-di8epxv.png)
