Origins
AN: I have recently become obsessed with Adventure Time and this is the result. Sugarless Gum will be the death of me. Also, oh my Glob the newest episode killed me a bit.
Disclaimer: Adventure Time doesn't belong to me, obviously.
Chp. 1 – Thrall
The young woman stepped inside, glad to be out of the setting sun, and kicked off her crimson leather boots. After tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear, she walked to the kitchen with a small basket of fresh fruit slung over one forearm and shoved the door open with her free hand. As she began to wash the fruit under the cold water from the tap her mind wandered, as it often did, to her choir group. Their morning rehearsal had not gone to plan at all. Reverend had ushered in some new recruits who were eager but unable to hold a tune. It seemed his desperate attempts to involve the whole community although well-intended, were actually becoming detrimental to the choir's success. They had a regional competition to think of. Not that it was about winning of course, but it would be nice to achieve something worthwhile and for such a good cause - their local branch of the Alzheimer's Alliance were counting on them.
She sighed, finished washing her apples and strawberries then dried her hands on a tea towel. The clock on the wall struck six o'clock.
In the living room she knelt on the striped rug, the knobbly weave denting the skin of her knees, and looked up at her picture of the Virgin Mary. She lowered her gaze, bowing her head so that her lips almost kissed her clasped hands. As she spoke, her prayer ghosted over her fingers and she felt the Earth tilt.
Startled, she looked up, expecting to see nothing but the reassuring face of her Saint, to her horror and fascination the wall next to the painting trembled. The wallpaper started to bubble and ripple as a hole began burning at the centre. She barely had time to scramble to her feet before the hole had widened considerably and a black boot appeared among the clouds of billowing smoke. A scream caught in her throat as the rest of her visitors body followed. The portal snapped shut, leaving a scorched ring on the wall and the lingering stench of sulphur which stung her nostrils. Her visitor grinned, straightened his collar and spoke.
"Lena, do not fear me. I've been watching you, I know you're mind and it is mine," he stepped closer, a blue-skinned hand closing around her wrist as she threw up a hand in defence.
"Are you the Devil?" Her terror grew as her eyes met his yellowed gaze. His pupils were horrid slits, slashed across each eyeball and strangely hypnotic. The pulse at her wrist quickened under his grip as he leaned closer.
"There is no Devil my dear. Nor is there a God. Man killed him off long ago, some of you just refuse to catch on. Stop that muttering!" His sharp pointed teeth flashed as he let a growl slip out over them. Lena stifled a sob and stopped praying, her eyes looked unfocused as she blinked up at her visitor. "That's better. Now, humans are curious things, mere machines of bone and viscera powered by some unknown spark. You call that spark a soul and that is why I'm here," he lowered his face so his flat, broad nose was almost touching hers. She had stopped fighting; her eyes growing wide as her free hand reached for his cheek.
"Offer me your soul dear one."
Hunson Abadeer did not need to ask twice.