Frostfall was lurking the hell boy like an assassin and it angered the already raging bull within him. He was simply not accustomed to such weather, wanting and needing the heat of the fires that burned not just within his soul but also the ones that rose from the ground, the need to feel the steam against his obsidian pelt. But even in the deserts of the Dragon's Throat where it was seemingly warmer than other parts of Helovia, Abaddon still felt like he was being torn apart by the chill winds.

His herdmates had been few and far between, he had spent the past week or so travelling across the Heavenly Fields and keeping his distance from all but his little demon, Glasgow. His mind drifted back to those moments with a glint of something, but he put this to the back of his wretched mind as he continued to stalk his way through the Throat, with his neck tucked deep into his chest and his skull bracing the cold air. It was funny how even with the winds that whipped it, the scar across his right-side of his cranium burned eternally. It seered into his bones as it was close to showing them as it was. With a huff and a grunt he continued pacing down further into the terraria, feeling the need to be more involved once more. He had drifted for too long... But the light snows made it difficult for him to feel like he was going to make any sort of impact on the lives of the creatures he was supposed to serve but honestly did not give a fuck about. His life was the only thing that mattered, and even then he was ready to commit his soul to the Devil.

Eventually he had come to a point of lingering in the desolate space, before his pools caught something close by - a white fox. With a squint he halted and stood his ground, feeling grains of sand and snow sticking to the bottom of his daggers and plastering his feathers as he waited for the creature to do something. He tilted his skull to show his horns, ready to attack if the little fox came close. But in the near distance it seemed that another was following behind. One like himself. With a feeling of desire for the knowledge that he could gain from this encounter he quickly forgot about any sort of danger the wolf would possess (knowing that his horns would be able to gut it like a fish) and he began his slow walk to face the blooded-mud creature that walked towards him. As he got closer he managed to study their features, the cranium with the line of ivory across the left-hand side a stark contrast to the darkness of the pelt, but with a distinctive femininity about it. He grunted, another female. He was sick of seeing the kind, but he knew that they were the weaker of their kind and therefore easy to defend should she pose a thread. She was pretty with the charcoal tassles that ran down her pelt and flowed but even Abaddon was unsure whether his herdmate would be quite so... willing, to be offended. He then halted once more, flicking his lobes in her direction and there he waited. She would come.

[OOC: Sorry for the delay! I hope this is okayy, he's basically waiting for Essetia to get curious and come to him as he's trying to be cool ;)]

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