#malph

There was a reason that Abraaxas didn’t keep friends for long, he had a tendency to ghost just about everyone that had ever tried or succeeded in getting close to him. It was easy to blame it on his ‘passenger’, but using that excuse time after time would quickly get old. Malphas had been known to take control of his host without permission and keep the junkie away from the populace for long intervals at a time; but never this long. 

It had been nearly two years at this point since he last showed up on Tali’s doorstep looking as pathetic as ever. She probably hated him by now. He hated himself for simply throwing away everything they had together, well, almost everything. Maybe she was happy with at least that one part of him. He would have to face her, eventually, if only just to make sure she and her son were doing okay, and to let her know that he was somehow still alive and kicking.

Malph wouldn’t be his excuse this time. While the demon had his fair share of time in control, Abra had every chance to return ‘home’. Malph had even urged him to do so, as it was during those times that Abra was at his best and his healthiest. He didn’t force him though; the two only had each other during these past couple of years and Abra had become highly unstable for a good amount of it. Malph had carried him through multiple overdoses and other near death experiences; the junkie should have been dead at least fifty times over at this point.

His journey had taken him everywhere these past years: Getting kicked out of and banned from Thunder Bluff for drunkenness and disorderly conduct, being thrown in prison for selling drugs and solicitation in Dazar’alor, then there was the ‘Darkmoon Faire incident that shall not be named’, and he was pretty sure he had spent a little bit more time in some kind of mental health facility.  There was much more, but it all ran along the same lines and he wasn’t sure how much more his body could take.

Bloodshot eyes drifted down to his arms; so many new track marks and tattooed numbers, he was running out of room. There was a strange juxtaposition between the two markings, the former from Abra’s vices and the latter from Malph’s. At this point, he wasn’t entirely sure which was worse. He was skinnier now than he had been in a while; his rib bones easily stood out, and his face looked a little more gaunt than it usually did. The bags under his eyes were a constant at this point, and his hands shook every time he lifted them.

He fucked up. He fucked up really damn badly.

In the realm of fucking up this was on the more severe end of the scale and for Abraaxas that was saying something.  He was generally a fuck-up, but at least there was one thing in his life that wasn’t completely fucked even though others might disagree.  Naturally, he couldn’t help himself when he went and fucked the shit out of that too.

It wasn’t entirely his fault, Malph had a lot to do with said fucking up as he often did.  As always, Abra was left cleaning up the demon’s mess as best as he could.  It was difficult to reason with him most of the time, he had his own separate agenda and enjoying the reemergence of the Legion seemed to be at the top of his list of priorities.  It was much easier when he didn’t have anyone caring about his whereabouts; no one to question his random disappearances, no one to ever feel the need to go searching for him.  

They weren’t the only ones that fucked up, Tali had done a damn good job of putting the cherry on top of all the fuckery. Her admitting that she had turned to her own leech, Mal, after he offered such kindness and aid in her time of trouble was the last straw in finally pushing his anger over the edge.  All of Malph’s and his hard work to keep that asshole away and here she was spreading her legs and allowing herself to get completely fucked.  That’s what demons do though, they manipulate, they play on weaknesses until they have what they want.  Abraaxas knew it, Malphas knew it, and the two were fairly certain that somewhere in the back of her mind, Tali knew it as well.  Maybe she was too drunk or too proud to admit she had messed up, Abra would have preferred her thinking he was dead over what she had done and he told her as much.  

Their collective mind was made up, Malph and Abra didn’t always agree on everything, but on this they were one in the same:  Mal had to die.  Threats were made aloud so he would hear just how serious they were, the time of simply keeping him away had come to a close and it was now time to rip him to pieces and skullfuck him to death - Abra’s own words.

All of that wasn’t even the low point of the evening. This is the part where Abraaxas royally fucked up.

“Ya takin’ me out t’ere?  Ya wantin’ t’fight?”

“In this shitty excuse for a war?  No, I have no interest, there is nothing in this for me to gain other than a growing annoyance for both the Alliance and your Horde.”  Malph snarled within.

“Shite mate, I ain’t helpin’ wot side I were born on.  ‘M an equal opportu--, oppor--, opportunity sorta bloke y’know? I’ll fuck all ‘em...up.  Fuck ‘em an’ fuck ‘em up.”  Abraaxas gave a curt nod as a stinger to emphasize his point before bursting into a fit of giggles.  Sobriety was not a factor here.

“Plus, we will need to get Tali and others out of Silvermoon if they come this way.  You wish to protect her and her child so we will do that.”

“Y’gettin’ all soft on me, mate?  S’real sweet o’ ya...doin’ shite I want an’ not jus’...” He flailed his arms, knocking over an empty shot glass.  “Takin’ me fer a ride like ya usually do.”

“...You know why I am helping you.”

“Aye…right.”  His expression turned somber, burying it behind another shot of whiskey.  Fingers reached down, jamming them into the side of his boot to retrieve a small bag filled with a powdery white substance.  Although before he was able to dump the contents atop the bar, a hand clamped down against his wrist.

“We’ve had this discussion before Abra, if you don’t want to get kicked out, you have to keep it clean.  I do have other customers in here.”  The bartender released him and resumed his wipe down of the bar, remarking as he wandered away.  “Also you’re mumbling to yourself again.”

Abra’s expression soured at the revelation...and also at Malph who was now laughing inside of his head.  On occasion it was difficult to tell the difference between aloud or not, especially when he had been drinking and snorting blow.  (Which was the majority of the time.)  “Fuckin’ dick.”

He wavered on his stool, bracing a hand against the bar before he could tip over.  This was a normal scene for him on any given night lately; a mixture of fall down drunk and high as a kite, usually sitting alone at some hole-in-the-wall until they kicked him out or he magically woke up in an alley.  

It wasn’t that he was avoiding going over to Tali’s place, he was over there rather often when he sobered enough to remember his way around. Things would be changing over there very soon, in less than a month there would be a new edition and everything would be different.  She had tried to tell him otherwise, but he knew better.  Nobody wants an unstable junkie around their delicate, ‘moldable’ child.  His vices would become a danger and sooner rather than later something bad would happen.

Maybe he should go fight in this war that was only just beginning, maybe it would be best if he just disappeared for a while...again.  He could take on massive demons face to face without flinching...but a tiny, fragile baby?  That scared him shitless.

He’d happily take all the credit for last night. If there was one thing that Abraaxas was very good at, it was peer pressuring those around him to make awesome choices. Some of the others may have considered them bad choices at the time, but what’s so bad about letting go and having fun?

It was all a bit of a druggy blur, but he remembered more than enough to prod at those involved later to make uncomfortable situations out in public.  Evoking bewildered and embarrassed reactions was definitely one of his favorite pastimes and he did it oh so well.

He didn’t stick around to help clean-up, although he did help himself to a bottle of some sort of liquor and a clean shirt that had been laying around.  Leaving before the sun came up, he was hoping to avoid the awkward drama that was bound to pop up from some of the others, although when he started briskly wandering away he realized he was not alone.  With cigarette in hand he turned to look at Zayneth,  “Couldn’t get enough of me last night mate?”

No, that wasn’t it at all and Abra knew it, in fact he knew exactly what this was about.  Something in Zayneth had changed and Abra was well aware of this, before he could just pass off his ‘passenger’ as some sort of bizarre anomaly, but now?  Now things were different and Zayneth wasn’t going to drop it.  He was trying to hide Malph for the other man’s own safety, he didn’t exactly enjoy being found out and when it happened in the past those people often disappeared.  Abra didn’t want Zay to get hurt, but clearly he wasn’t going to leave here without something.

There was really only way one to solve this problem:  Let Malph deal with it.  From past experience the best way to provoke the demon was to threaten his vessel’s well-being.  At this point, Zay was so on edge that it really didn’t take much prodding to make him pounce, knocking Abra off his feet to slam his scrawny frame hard against the ground.  That was more than enough to get Malph’s attention and before Abra had a chance to say or do anything in retaliation, Malph made his presence very known.

Fel green eyes immediately clouded over just before his hands raised to forcefully shove against Zayneth’s chest.  His intention was to knock him away, but the sheer brute strength behind the gesture sent the other man flying backwards before slamming against the brick wall, knocking his breath from him in the process.  Sure, it was still Abra’s body, but there was no trace of the junkie controlling himself any longer.  Posture, mannerisms and even speech changed to match the current host and his voice now deeper, steady and with a slight growl, “Is this what you wanted?”

“Yeah, yeah that IS what I wanted.  Maybe -you- can tell me what the fuck is going on?!”  From his tone, it was clear that Zayneth now knew there was a ‘you’ and a ‘him’ on board.

“My name is Malphas and this body is my host.  If you are going to take issue with this then I am going to destroy you.  If you tell anyone, I am going to destroy Abraaxas and I do not think you wish for that to happen.  Understand?”  It was rather amazing the feats the demon was able to perform in such a seemingly worthless host, but the two had an agreement.  Malph would protect and Abra would provide some of life’s more guilty pleasures.  Not all demons wished to just be killing machines for the Legion and Malph found himself quite taken with Abra’s wide array of vices.

The conversation was short and to the point and when Abraaxas finally came to, he couldn’t recall anything that had just been spoken between the two.  Given that Zayneth was still alive, it seemed to go well enough.  

The two parted on good terms and for once that heavy burden was slightly lifted from Abra’s chest.   Part of him felt good knowing that someone else knew, but at the same time he was now more worried than ever, especially for his friend’s well-being.