The silence between the two at this moment in time was not uncomfortable. To the ebony brute, it was a simple respect for his own ferocious attitude. He had no respect, yet for the little creature that had almost quite literally flown into his life. But that was not to be discriminate towards her. Abaddon had no respect for any creature, not even his old bretheren. And he watched with fiery pools intently as she gazed at him with her dark cranium tilted to the side, perhaps to drink in more of his features. In terms of indivudality, the only thing that made him stand out from any creature of his physique and pelt hues was the horrendous fire mutilation on the right side of his skull. 

And then she piped up with:

Like how not to play with fire.

It made the hell boy gaze at her with a squint of something unrecognisable, and a dark grin split itself over his charcoal velveteens. She dared. And Abaddon let out a small chuckle that a dainty creature as the fae would even consider such a move. Now that took balls. Did she not realise she was playing with fire? And this was the reason Abaddon was starting to like Ghost. Her words were both an attempt at what seemed like complimenting and a daring attempt at digging her way through his rhinoceros hide of no emotions. To this he shifted the weight over from one side of his stocky pillars to the other, and he in turn tilted his once handsome skull towards her,
"This," he moved his scar towards the midday rays to let it light up the grotesque feature, "Is what happens when you fight fire with fire," and then he let a deep rumble within his chest before reciprocating towards her tak of character, "The only character it adds to is the one that everybody sees without my need to even justify it..." His pools were dark with the thoughts of murder and blood. His characteristics and vivid thoughts of such dark things were not of his own making, but of the cult he had been born into. No one in that place had been saved from that life, from that attitude. But to Abaddon it was all he knew, and this he played to his advantage in whatever situation he found himself in.

And his own words of Ghost's ironic name was answered with a shrug and talk of a mother. He replied with an indignant grunt and a quiet deep tone, "She sounds like quite the comedian..." His sarcastic reply would usually not go down quite so well - nobody likes to have their dam bad-mouthed. But he grinned with a dark playful smirk, waiting to see if the dame would bite. He hoped so, just waiting to see how far he could push her.

...Are you a warrior of this herd? 

Not yet, he thought with a small glitter of hope. His brain wandered in the dark corners, imagining his dark pelt against the background of fire and smoke, throwing himself into other creatures and watching their bodies writhe in pain as he sucked the life out of them. The pool of blood would swelter and bubble as it ebbed the life out of the creature whose veins it used to inhabit. Such images seemed like the magic of being alive to Abaddon. It was his version of heaven... 
But his mind was instantly draw back as Ghost continued,

I'm interested to see how you will make a herd that has no seen war for seasons stronger, but then again... It's not without weakness.

Her words spoke spoke with curled velveteens that gave the blackened brute the impression she was starting to bite as he spoke his aspirations. But was this a ploy to see how much information she could gain about him and his intentions? He did not mind this from a fellow herdsman, "I intend to be a warrior and to fight when needed," his deep voice rang with a hint of severe longing, "You speak of peace as if it is the end of all wars. But it never is. No war is ever over, it simply takes a rest while those who fight and die in it gain their strength to fight once more, and I intend to help this herd recruit more soldiers into the ranks for when it begins once more..." In his twisted idea of reality, his words made ultimate sense. They were the pinnacle of his existence. If there was peace, what would he do to entertain himself?

What an interesting creature you are.

Ghost's words were something that had never been spoken to Abaddon before in an approving manner. This he liked about the creature. What a creature. And what an ally he could make of the winged fae. Her talk of being new did not interest him near as much as talk of Ghost being a spy in the Dragon's Throat ranks. A spy, "And tell me, how able do you think you are as a spy?" It was a genuine question sprouting from his lips. He was intent to see how much she could bring to the herd, and how well she was able to do it. He smiled with an approving look from his orange-red pools, something that most creatures had never seen from the hell boy before, and then he chuckled as he replied to her last utterance, "Only in the mind, Ghost..." Even this he could not deny. So why hide it?

ABADDON

When two tribes go to war, a point is all that you can score.