cabadath-prince-of-pain

[cabadath-prince-of-pain]

[cabadath-prince-of-pain]

Which Image - A Chzo Mythos fanfic

Title comes from the song Witch Image by the band Ghost. If there's interest I'll write more and explain to my followers what this game series is.

Apologies to the people who wanted to be tagged in this, Tumblr isn't recognizing your urls. I'll try to tag in a reblog. Also apologies to the British if my American ass screwed things up. I'll make edits as needed.

London, 2015

In between the crackling thunder, a young man screamed in agony, sweet as the music of a harpsichord.

Footsteps pounded like the rain through the stolen, repurposed corpse of a building. An office, once, now a shell like any other mortal body. Down the many stairs the footsteps carried, sneakers squeaking wet on dirty tile. Down the stairs and through the halls, she ran.

Why the persistence? Too late, far too late, to save her friend. But the young woman resisted the obvious. Dark of hair and pure of heart, he could not harm her yet. He watched the sweat drip down her warm brown skin, how she brushed the strands of hair from her face. Standing, kneeling, struggling, suffering.

He watched and he wondered. Yes, he did wonder.

It'd been a strange choice, to offer up an American for a sacrifice, but Chzo was not a picky god. This young woman could not have looked more different from her light-haired friend. But in her eyes, a desperate fire burned, and looking away proved a challenge.

That fire… She reminded him of someone. How distasteful.

Of course, of course, too late for her friend. She opened the door to strangers standing over the remains. Of course, of course, too late for her. The cult would spare her, when they caught her, he would ensure it…

They did not catch her.

They did not even notice her, too consumed with their own escape. The Ministry agents closed in, fortune smiling upon them once again. She fled, they fled, and it had all gone wrong.

He could've been furious.

He could've been.

Instead, he stood upon the old building, his shadow stretching long in the light flashing overhead. He stood, and he watched her race into the darkness, her parcel, their parcel, clutched to her frail body.

He watched, and yes, yes he wondered.

She reminded him of someone… Cabadath wasn't sure he liked that.

It'd been almost twelve hours before anyone realized the girl was gone. Far too late to save her life. The Order of Blessed Agonies worked fast. But so did Trilby.

The Order must've been desperate to prey on tourists. They had to have known who they were choosing. The accents on these kids weren't subtle. Five of them came overseas on spring holiday, bright eyed and oblivious. Three headed home tonight. The other two would follow in coffins.

“Trilby,” one of his supervisors said, “I know what you're thinking. Don't put yourself at risk to try and save this kid.”

“I'm already at risk,” he'd said. “What's a little more?”

“We need you alive - and so do they.”

And that was the thing, wasn't it? The Order wouldn't keep this girl, this Jillian Taylor Cortez, alive, but he couldn't say they'd do the same with him. Damned prophecies…

Her name was Jillian Taylor Cortez. She just turned 19. Mexican-American mother, British father. Got her middle name because the latter died before she was born, so said her friends.

She looked nothing like Simone Taylor. If she had, Trilby might've lost it again.

Twelve hours, they found the boy, or what was left of him. They'd followed the muddy footprints from the ground floor all the way to the altar. Trilby followed them back up, frowning. Pretended he didn't see the glances between the ones around him.

He had a hunch.

Just a hunch, but he'd been doing this for almost twenty years now. Just a hunch, he'd say later… but he'd been right before.

“Don't you dare!” Someone shouted at his back. “Damn it, Trilby! Get back here! It's not worth it!”

He ignored them, ignored the rain soaking his suit. Wasn't breaking the rules if nobody up top told you not to. Besides, he was just following a hunch. Just giving a quick check around the buildings. No harm in that.

No harm on her, when he caught her dead center in the light of his torch.

He stared at her and she stared right back, her eyes wide and hollow. The rain soaked her right through, plastering clothes to skin and hair to her cheeks. The bow in her hair, half undone. The fear in her eyes, too painful, too real.

Trilby raised a hand.

“Jill-”

She bolted.

“Wait! No!”

Trilby followed.

The kid knew how to run. Ran through the streets like the world was ending. Trilby kept up. He wasn't young anymore, he'd feel it for the next few days, but he kept up. So did the rain.

Only took a few wrong turns. She didn't know anything about the area - neither did he, to be fair. Was only a little bit of a surprise to find themselves in another alley, to come across the fence blocking their way. Was a very big surprise when the girl ran right for it.

“Jillian!” He shouted over the thunder. “Jill!”

Did she even hear him? She didn't stop. Lunged for the fence, one hand grasping the chain link metal. Trilby moved faster than her.

He grabbed her around the waist. She screamed. They both hit the ground, he let her go and she scrambled backwards. He shifted, sat up, looked her in the face again.

Terrified eyes, wide and wild. It wasn't just the rain soaking her cheeks, the spring weather shuddering her shoulders.

Trilby raised his hands.

“Jillian,” he said. “It's alright, Jill. I'm with the Ministry of Occultism. We're here to help you. I can't believe you're still alive…”

She breathed. She held the book in her arms tight. Book? He looked down at it. Heavy, large, leather bound. Some kind of writing on the cover.

Oh my God, he thought. Did she steal that from the Order?

Trilby looked up to her face again. Her eyes locked onto something over his shoulder.

Trilby jerked out of the way. The blade buried into the ground he'd stood moments before. Trilby moved, backed away as far as he could go, the blood draining from his face.

“Oh, hell,” Trilby said.

The featureless face of the Prince of Pain tilted towards him. Cabadath had not changed at all in the last twenty years. Bone chilling, even after all these years and all their meetings. Still ever the same, nine feet tall and dressed in black, the rain coursing down his long coat and leaving the fabric dry. The Prince straightened in slow motions, raising the four pronged scythe and resting it by his side.

Still the Prince stared at him, though he had no eyes to do so. He raised a hand and pointed to the girl.

Jill. She'd gotten out of the way just in time. Trilby couldn't risk looking away from the Prince for longer than an instant, Cabadath moved too fast, but she still breathed, standing against the fence. Her eyes, still wild, locked onto the terror between them.

Had Cabadath been chasing her too? The Prince had powers like no human ever could. Hallucinations were a favorite, Trilby knew that from experience.

The Prince waited.

Trilby took a breath.

“Jillian,” he said. “Give him the book.”

She did not move but her whole body shuddered with her breath.

“He's playing nice right now,” Trilby said, eyes locked on the Prince, “but he doesn't have to. You don't know what he's fully capable of, you've just seen part of it.”

Jillian did not move.

“There's nothing in that book that can help you,” Trilby said. “You don't want to get involved with this more than you have been. I don't know how you got it, but you need to give it back. Before he takes it from you.”

Her body shuddered. Jillian blinked, hard. The Prince did not move. He did not look away.

Her arms unlocked. She took another deep, shuddering breath. Holding the book in careful hands, she laid it upon the ground at her feet, and stepped away. And away. And away.

Trilby watched the Prince. He did not notice where the young woman moved to, until she stopped. Stopped between him and Cabadath, facing the Prince, her arms stretched out as if she could protect Trilby from the monster watching them.

Protect him from Cabadath. He wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry at the thought.

The Prince tilted his head. His gaze shifted towards the girl. Trilby placed a hand on Jillian’s shoulder. Cabadath’s shoulders shook, as if in silent laughter. But of course, no sound came from the Tall Man. They were not worth the effort.

Turning away from the mortals, Cabadath stepped toward the book. He knelt, and with one long free hand, picked it up. Turning fully back towards the two humans, he bowed a mocking thanks. Trilby set his teeth, held Jill's shoulder as she flinched.

As the Prince straightened, he vanished. The rain poured down over them and the tension disappeared from Trilby's body. Cabadath truly was gone. For now.

Jillian sobbed.

Trilby's focus snapped to her again. Shit.

“Jill?”

She placed her hand over her mouth as the sobs shook her body.

“Cal,” she whispered the name of her friend. “Cal, I'm sorry.”

He couldn't think of anything to say. Trilby wrapped an arm around her and pulled out his phone with the other. How long had it been ringing?

“Yeah?” He said. “Yeah, I'm alright. Yeah, we're both okay. I found the girl, she's alive. It's… it's a long story. I'll explain everything back at headquarters.”

Trilby held the young woman against his body as he led her back into the light. He glanced uneasy at the roofs above them, expecting a tall shadow staring down, but only the rain waited overhead, the drops falling down between her tears.

[cabadath-prince-of-pain]

Cabadath, do you ever feel bad about stuff you do?

This one, this one makes him laugh. It's a deep, rumbling sound that resonates from the depths of his chest. He hasn't felt amusement for the longest time (endearment, maybe. But it's a very rare feeling to have-)

"To feel remorse for my actions would be rather mortal, would it not? I have not been as such for many centuries... Those who have known the name of the King were chosen by my hand, and it was always utterly deserved,"

He eyes you suddenly, as of sizing you up. Or perhaps reading your soul, if he can even do that--

"Do not think for even a mere moment that I would ever be remorseful for the things I do. You could not be more wrong."

[cabadath-prince-of-pain]

Hi, I'm new here, nice to meet you

How often it happens when people confuse you with Slenderman or think that you are... Its father? Also what do you think about that?

Cabadath tilts his featureless head toward you.

"This Slenderman you speak of... I have not heard of such a being before today. Not have I sired such a being,"

He looks out at the expanse of land before him; farmland, mostly. A few graveyards scattered about. Very typical for the countryside.

"of course, there is the subject of different dimensions, varying timelines, and mirrors of each of us. Many different universes, variants, and strange discoveries." He turns his head back to you, regarding you quietly for a moment.

"Perhaps there is another of me, a mirror of my image, that spawned such a creature that you speak of. But as for me, I have done no such thing. And I shall not. Not without thought, anyway; a proper heir will be made in time." He returns his gaze toward the land ahead of him.

[cabadath-prince-of-pain]

Cabadath, do you know how to read?

Cabadath looks on and although there are no visible eyes, he very likely would be rolling them to the sky by such a notion that he, The Prince of Pain, could not read. If the question had prodded a more sensitive topic, he well enough would be offended.

But this was not the case. Not tonight. No, tonight he actually entertained the idea of not being able to read. Such a ridiculous thing to ponder.

"What a preposterous inquiry, of course I can bloody read. Do you think me a child fresh from the womb of its mother?"

[cabadath-prince-of-pain]

Does doggy say woof

The grim before you perks up, wagging her tail with excitement. Does doggy say woof? Of course she does! She loves to woof, very very much!

She will demonstrate with a few little barks that do just enough to rouse Cabadath from his nearby napping spot. As if sensing his awakening, the grim whirls around and bounds up to prone reaper. He hardly budged at all with her tackle, though he does reach to pet her head down her back.

[cabadath-prince-of-pain]

SEND ME AN ASSUMPTION YOU HAVE OF ME ON ANON

and i’ll let you know if you’re right

[cabadath-prince-of-pain]

is your dog a good dog? is she a good girl??

Cabadath looks at the asker, and then at his dog. The grim stares back at him, golden eyes blinking once in that strange wink normal dogs sometimes do.

"Well? Are you as they claim you to be?" He inquires to her.

The she-grim barks once. Cabadath turns back to the asker.

"There you have it. Now go away; there are souls that need collecting."

[cabadath-prince-of-pain]

what kind of offerings would you like?

Offerings? For him??

How long has it been since a mortal of any kind has offered him something akin to a sacrifice? ... Likely many years, perhaps a millennia? The concept of time was lost on him by now; he tended to take each day as it came around.

"Food is not necessary for me to live anymore, nor is any other physical object. Blood is for vampires, or other blood-consuming creatures I suppose. I suppose they are merely sources of entertainment in my eyes at this point..."

The former Prince sighs out air he didn't realize he was holding in.

"Interesting. What do you think?"

He looks down at his companion, his beast. His dog, as it were. Had he ever wanted a dog before, before all of... This? Before he became what he was now?

A sharp bark brings him back to the present, away from his thoughts, and Cabadath chuffs something akin to laughter. He reaches and pets the grim when the answer finally reaches his mind.

"Bones, perhaps. Or weapon relic that I can reshape. Those offerings will suffice."

[cabadath-prince-of-pain]

Ask Box is still open! Keep 'em coming, guys!

Drown this man in asks.

HELLO FOLLOWERS!

Tempest speaking, mun of the blog. I've decided to do a bit of something different.

I'm opening the ask box to an AMA; an Ask Muse Anything!

I'll keep it open for a few asks and then close it to respond appropriately to said asks.

Basically giving you guys a chance to learn more about Cabadath and his dog ^_^

Happy sending!

[cabadath-prince-of-pain]

Clinical depression

I'm not sure I understand this one. Is this a question? A statement?

Are you asking if the Prince has clinical depression? Or are you yourself saying you have it, anon?

I'm afraid I can't answer this one for His Highness like this. Sorry, stranger.

[cabadath-prince-of-pain]

Cabadath! would you ever have kids?

- 🥀

"I have often considered the thought of siring offspring. However, there is a... Limiting factor in how well that would go on my own."

The faceless being regards the stranger and their question, drumming his fingers on the surface of the ground in thought.

His gaze wanders from the stranger to elsewhere. What was his canine companion doing? Ah, yes. Smelling flowers and hopping after a frog by the stream. How endearing.

"With the right partner, I suppose I would. Time will always tell."

[cabadath-prince-of-pain]

HELLO FOLLOWERS!

Tempest speaking, mun of the blog. I've decided to do a bit of something different.

I'm opening the ask box to an AMA; an Ask Muse Anything!

I'll keep it open for a few asks and then close it to respond appropriately to said asks.

Basically giving you guys a chance to learn more about Cabadath and his dog ^_^

Happy sending!

[cabadath-prince-of-pain]

Boops Cabadath

This is a few days late but you have to forgive him, he's a busier man on the Eve of Hallows.

You've booped the reaper at the risk of your life being taken from you, and with that in mind he's decided to stare. Stare and... Well, he's wondering what the hell a boop even is, for the most part.

He's also wondering where you got the cat paw from. And which animal is now missing a leg on that note as well.

[cabadath-prince-of-pain]

[cabadath-prince-of-pain]

🌹 🍷

🌹 (rose) - What does your oc find attractive in other people? Are these traits found in their friends and/or romantic partners? Are they found in themselves?

This one is a little tough to answer, given Cabadath's gray asexuality state of mind. However, with the time he's spent in the city of London during the Victorian Era, he came to learn their means of courtship and relationships did not have to always be sexual or too romantic.

Normally he would not have the time for seeking a partner, and in all honesty he's going to outwardly seem too stubborn to. Of course with his -ahem- "forced retirement", he has a bit more time on his hands to peruse.

The former Prince's ideals that he considers attractive are as follows: perseverance, bravery, devotion, and sacrifice. Adding onto that a pure heart of innocence, and he's going to become quite invested in whomever bears these traits.

He himself, the picture of arrogance and violence, does not have these traits. However, there is one particular being whom he has slowly become very fond of. Some of you know already, some of you do not.

She will be revealed in time, and I think you guys are gonna love her just as much as he will come to do. :)

🍷 (wine) - Does your oc drink? What kind of alcohol do they enjoy? What are their drinking habits? What kind of drunk are they?

This is another thing he learned from the Victorians. Very quickly he found that alcohol of that time period was strong enough to be used as medicine as well as consumption. Yep, I'm talking about absinthe. It is either that strong stuff, or very specific wines that he prefers. Now, he does not necessarily need to eat or drink to survive; this is all just means of entertaining himself.

When it comes to the specific type of drunk Cabadath is, he has a very high tolerance. One may call him something of a secret drunk. However given the right circumstances, that can change to something of the affectionate sort.

[cabadath-prince-of-pain]

is that a sword in its sheath

or are you just happy to see me?

;)

The reaper raises an eye ridge at the stranger; the closest thing to an eyebrow raise that Cabadath can get to.

He then brandished a sword made of shadows from seemingly nowhere, and aims the sharp end of it at the one who asked such a question.

"I am not one to mock the presence of a weapon for the sake of witticism. You would be wise to do the same."