The Mood is Write

Mom-de-Plume
Original poster
DONATING MEMBER
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Invitation Status
  1. Looking for partners
Posting Speed
  1. 1-3 posts per day
  2. Multiple posts per week
Online Availability
It varies wildly.
Writing Levels
  1. Advanced
  2. Prestige
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Nonbinary
  3. Primarily Prefer Female
Genres
I'm open to a wide range of genres. Obscenely wide. It's harder for me to list all I do like than all I don't like.

My favorite settings are fantasy combined with something else, multiverse, post-apoc, historical (mixed with something else), and futuristic. I'm not limited to those, but it's a good start.

My favorite genres include mystery, adventure, action, drama, tragedy (must be mixed with something else and kept balanced), romance (again must be mixed, and more.

I'm happy to include elements of slice-of-life and romance, but doing them on their own doesn't hold my interest indefinitely.
K stared at the King of Hell for several long moments as the silence dragged on and on. With a slow movement, he turned away—he had his answer, but... he didn't like it.

"Where do you think you're going, plaything?" the King asked.

K glanced back as he answered, "Home."

"Wrong." The king's grin spread wide, revealing vaporous black teeth with wicked barbs. "How easy was it to enter? To travel this deep, to enter my own sanctum at the very center of Hell?"

K looked back properly, brows furrowed as he tried to understand what this demon meant.

"For being so intelligent, you're not very clever, are you?"

K lifted his head, offended, but before he could object, the demon closed the distance between them and cupped K's chin in one hand.

"You oblivious little creature. Hell isn't for tourists. Hell is for torment. Hell has entrances, but no exits."

"People have left," K objected, stepping away from the unwanted touch.

"They came prepared. You have... nothing. No weapons. No equipment. You, Kasey Peterson, are an ant in a pitcher plant..." His grin grew wider.

K finally noticed the barbs, and his eyes shot wide. He wasn't stopped. They wanted him there, going ever-deeper. Everything in Hell was to punish sinners, and what action could be more prideful and sinful than entering alive and on purpose? Going deep into it, as deep as it went, just for answers?

The moment it clicked, his feet slammed the polished black floor as laughter echoed behind him. Shadowy spears narrowly missed him as he fled, gripping the straps of his backpack as he exited, then slammed the door.

THOCKTHOCKTHOCKTHOCKTHOCK

He slammed his back against the door, and slowly, the stone-like guards turned to look at him, their bodies clinking as the dark stones moved. They stared at K, and he stared back with wide eyes.

The quiet lasted only a beat before a dark aura pulsed suddenly from the guardians.

K gritted his teeth as they began to approach, the titanic beings no longer sounding like chimes, but a cacophony that burned into K's ears.

Past them, he saw Didi, staring at him with wide, confused eyes, one hand over her mouth. Horned, bald, and clad in business attire, the pure black demon wasn't very bright, but she waved to K regardless.

He ducked to one side as a guard launched a slow-moving attack at him, and K scrambled as his hands hit the black stone of hell's floor. He launched himself forward, toward Didi, expecting her to help him.

Instead, that peaceful face he'd come to trust morphed into wicked joy as her grin and her claws grew.

K veered and avoided her lunge.

Barely.

She cut his clothing, but he didn't stop to look back.

He ran.

If anything drew his blood, anything at all, he would never emerge from Hell.

Every level brought its own struggle. Heat. Cold. Guards. Demons.

Only at the first ring did he have chance to pause as he escaped the sight of the first ring's guardians. He pressed himself in a nook of the great red-stone spires and let the dust of Hell itself disguise him, even as it irritated his skin.

Moments became minutes became hours, and the sounds of the guards faded from cacophony to gentle tinkling, and then began to grow distant at last.

His shoulders slowly sagged, until he heard something else. Not the winds or the wailings, but a distinct voice.

"K? Is that you?"

K opened his eyes, then uncovered his mouth as he nodded, slow, and then more rapidly.

The man. They met before. K remembered him by his hair: a short ponytail with shaved sides.

"What happened to Marshall?" the man asked, and K began to hunch.

"Dunno," he managed, his voice choked by his own stress as he looked away.

"Shit, guy like him, probably got himself killed." The man sighed. "Listen, come on, I told you I'd talk to the others, they'd come around. You can come back to camp! They won't kick you out again, I promise." He smiled and offered his hand to K.

Slowly, K looked at the hand, and then up, only to spot a black spike in the man's chest. Red began to grow around it, soaking into the man's shirt, and as K looked up at the man's face for the first time, he saw the man's wide-eyed shock.

"Oh," the man said. His last word before his body was ripped back and away from K, then set upon by the first ring's demons: quadrupedal creatures larger than house cats. Spiked tails and bony bodies covered in ridges gave them an evil look, but their four-inch claws only cemented their menace.

K turned. He closed his eyes. He ran.

He ran as the man screamed.

He ran as he listened to flesh rip and blood drip, the sound so close he may as well have had his ear right beside the devouring beasts.

He ran until he slammed into and through something. It sent a ripple through him. Suddenly... he felt.

His body ached. His lungs burned. His skin screamed agony, and he gasped in his first breath since he first entered the gates of Hell.

He escaped.

His legs lost their energy all at once, and he made it only a few more steps before he collapsed against something hard.

He opened his eyes. A long wooden bench.

K let himself fall onto it. He panted as sweat and tears began to form and run down his skin, carving streaks through the dust that covered his sunburnt face.

So cold.

This place... so cold... So bright.

So silent. He heard his every ragged breath, heard his own pulse, heard the quiet sound of his palms squeaking against the wood, and heard even the brush of his layered clothing.

Too much.

Bile rose in his throat, and then spewed forth. Chunks of a meal long forgotten spewed onto the floor. Dazed eyes looked around, blurry and unfocused, before he shuddered and crawled the rest of the way onto the bench. A sob escaped, and then another.

He was free.

Freedom hurt.
 
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The church, though well maintained, had long since been abandoned. Really, the only reason it was so well-kept is because it was treated as a historical landmark. Even so, tourists weren't allowed inside so the city ruled it okay to leave the interior alone. As a result, dust caked everything from the pews to the orator's lectern, to even the cold wax candles that haven't seen any light for ages. Cobwebs inhabited every corner of the ancient building, and especially in the large cathedral ceiling where they crisscrossed all over the empty space, with a few broken ones hanging low to the floor. Despite its cold and musty atmosphere, there was still enough natural light filtering through the stained glass and untouched windows to give the church something of a bright glow.

On closer inspection, however, the building seemed to be less than hospitable - graffiti and other assorted vandalism was on full display wherever you went inside the building. The only windows that were boarded up seemed to be ones that had been busted out in some manner. Even a few of the pews were broken in half, like someone had fallen or was slammed into them like some kind of street fight. Listening closely, one could make out the skittering of rats amongst the hustle-bustle noise of the city around them. Engines hummed from the vehicles that swooped around outside, the muffled aimless chatter of pedestrians could only just barely be made out, occasionally sirens from emergency personnel could be heard blaring in the distance - it was definitely downtown. Cernum City, the shining exemplar of modern life, hardly seemed like the kind of progressive place that would keep an old musty church around. Despite this sentiment being echoed by some councilors, the people seemed to like having it around, and so every time the vote came up to demolish it, there was an overwhelming response to keep it. Eventually, the city just gave up and filed for it to be protected as a historic landmark.

Of course, as with any permanently abandoned building, it played host to a number of vagabonds and drifters as they pleased. One such drifter was Thomas Lockwood, though on first look one would be forgiven for thinking otherwise. Well groomed and with an outfit that was always kept clean, Thomas seemed like the last kind of person who'd be living in an abandoned church, and yet his was the face that emerged from a pile of blankets in one of the rooms to the side of the main hall. Fixing his skewed glasses first, Thomas rose to his feet cautiously as the shock and surprise of the sudden noise filtered through his system. What he heard and what he saw did not match up - except for the retching, obviously, but the ungodly racket that preceded it doesn't line up with the child-sized person that was spat out into the pews. Ever the samaritan, Thomas approached them, but kept a slightly glinting playing card in his fingers just in case it turned out to be some kind of supernatural beast.

"Hey, kid, you alright?"
 
K shivered violently as he looked up, eyes unfocused, at the stranger, whose voice felt so loud K could scarcely comprehend the words he said for several moments before finally, he started to nod, ready to dismiss the person as unnecessary, before that simple movement brought another coughing fit, sending red dust from his mouth as he laid there, hugging himself about the chest.

He was... not ok. he was so not ok, he couldn't even lie about it properly.

"Water," he tried to say between coughs, but only a small croak emerged.
 
Thomas looked on with concern as the poor kid absolutely struggled against themself, coughing up some sort of dust that looked like it came from somewhere else entirely. Despite the lack of a true answer, it was clear they weren't okay at all. In between the kid's coughing fits, Thomas could have sworn he heard the word 'water', but it was so broken up he couldn't make it out properly. He wasn't going to take any chances, though.

"Water? Alright, give me just a minute..." he assured them, before quickly striding out through a hole in the back wall that he used as a makeshift door to the church. Exiting out into the bright sunlight, Thomas held up a hand to shield his eyes as he scanned around for one of the city's ubiquitous vendor droids. As luck would have it, one of the rolling robots was approaching their location on the sidewalk at that very moment. Without pausing to ponder the whimsies of fate, Thomas rounded the church and flagged down the droid, retrieving his bank card from one of the pockets in his duster jacket. After a quick exchange of currency with a scan of his card, the spherical droid closed its lid and the humming of internal vibration could be heard. A quick second passed, and where there was once empty space now stood a bottle of clean, pure water. The drifter snagged it without a moment's notice and dashed back to the "back door" of the church, leaving the vendor droid to continue its patrol.

"Alright, I've got it," he called out, flicking open the snap-shut lid and holding out the hard plastic bottle as he entered the central hall of the church again. Hopefully the kid hadn't choked to death in the interim, but Thomas wasn't about to dwell on what-ifs.
 
K didn't hear Thomas over his own misery. When Thomas returned with water, K looked up only because the shadows changed slightly. Seeing an offered bottle of liquid, K reached toward it greedily and began to drink, even as he nearly drowned himself trying.

As he pulled away the empty bottle, panting some, a film of muddy red clung to the side in a line following the last drops.

His labored breathing continued, and he laid his head on the pew again with a slow shudder, closing his eyes as his body gave in to exhaustion.

He slept for nearly a full day before he woke to cramps in his stomach. He curled around himself, but his eyes refused to open for several moments before he forced a deep breath, and they finally snapped open, unfocused as his eyes darted about, taking in more blur than vision.
 
Thomas looked on with equal parts concern and curiosity. Just who was this person? What was their story? A thousand questions raced through the drifter's head nearly simultaneously, but before he could voice any of them the poor soul collapsed. Thomas' first instinct was to check for a pulse, though he noticed the steady movements of breathing first, preventing the need to touch them. ...Him? Her? They looked more like a boy, but their choice of attire was throwing Thomas for a bit of a loop. He decided to settle on "him" for now, if only to save himself the headache of trying to figure it out every time. After taking back the empty water bottle, Thomas wiped off the odd-colored mud on some nearby ripped linens, and his instinctual concern for the lad returned. Just what exactly had he gone through prior to his mysterious appearance?

Deciding that it would be best to not wonder about his new roommate's situation too terribly much, Thomas rose back up and exited through the hole in the wall. Emerging back into the midday light, Thomas glanced around for a moment before casually slipping into step on the sidewalk. Despite the summer season, the weather was actually rather nice. It was warm to be sure, but the constant cool breeze ensured that it wasn't felt for long. As Thomas strolled down the walk, he placed his hands into the outer pockets of his blazer and kept an eye out for the local general store. It wasn't long before he found it, and upon entering he greeted the clerk on duty with a smile and a wave.

"Hey, Thomas! It's been a hot minute since we last saw you," came the enthusiastic voice of the young man he recognized as the store manager. That man, however, was not at the cashier counter. Who was there, instead, was a teenage girl who Thomas didn't recognize. Most likely a temporary hire while school's out. Evan, the manager, popped out from an aisle on the side with a winning grin, already reaching out to shake Thomas' hand.

"Afternoon, Evan. I've been busy lately. Haven't had the chance to swing by, you know how it is," he replied with a familiar, if much more subtle grin of his own. After the handshake, Evan nodded with an understanding air, placing both hands on his hips as his expression returned to something a bit more neutral.

"So what can we do for you on this fine day?"

"Ah, nothing too much today. Just need a refill on this water bottle, if you don't mind." With that, Thomas pulled the bottle from his pocket, holding it up so Evan could see. The shop owner nodded and snatched it out of Thomas' hand before he could protest. Flashing the drifter a cheeky grin, Evan went to the water cooler and placed it in the little alcove built specifically for that type of bottle. With the press of a button, the machine kicked on, and the same sound the vendorbot made whirred from the machine as it dispensed water to fill up the bottle again. Evan pulled the bottle out of its socket with a spin and a flourish, closing the cap as he brought it back to Thomas with a wink.

"This one's on us, friend." Thomas chuckled and took it back with a word of thanks, giving another wave as he turned to leave. Leaving behind the store, Thomas made his way back to the church to check up on the boy. After determining that he was still asleep, Thomas placed the water bottle on a small, cube-shaped apparatus that immediately dematerialized it into storage. Glancing back at the boy one last time, Thomas shrugged slightly and went back outside to go about his usual business.

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When the boy finally woke up, it was around the same time they had first met, and Thomas was already awake and sitting against the wall his storage cube was. Once he noticed that the kid was awake, Thomas waved a hand over the cube, sending a spark of... some kind of energy into it. Once the spark hit, the cube vibrated slightly and rematerialized the water bottle, cold as it was when Thomas first put it in. He grabbed it and stood up with a bit of a grunt, stepping over to where the boy was sleeping.

"You feeling alright? There's more water here if you want it," he explained, setting the bottle down beside the kid and squatting down to his level. "I'm Thomas, by the way. I won't pry too much if you're not willing to share, but I'd like to at least know your name."
 
K's eyes snapped toward movement and sound, and he craned his neck to squint at Thomas. The stranger approached and squatted, bringing himself lower. K spared a wavering glance at Thomas's face, catching vague shapes, but his eyes returned to the bottle.

Water.

He reached for it as Thomas said something, and K paused.

It took a few moments to figure out what he said, but K finally answered in a creaking, almost inhuman voice: "K."

That said, he grabbed the bottle and clumsily tried to drink from the closed lid for a moment before he pulled back and stared at it, then unsteadily forced himself to sit for a better, less dizzying view.

His head kept wobbling, and he couldn't stop how he swayed as he stared at it, then started to twist the cap, movements sluggish, before he shoved it towards Thomas, sunburn redder than a moment before. "Open," he muttered.