Who doesn't like oneshots? [ON HOLD]

Dead.

So this is what death feels like, isn't it?

The man in a white robe shook his head, his eyes wide, as if trying to take in the new information. He didn't know what he was doing here. He didn't know what had happened or where he was or even why he was there. All he knew was that he had died. The Wither Storm had murdered him.

The guy shivered a bit, his rusty-orange hair a tangled and unkept mess, just like always. Short breaths escaped his mouth in a tiny clouds. Yet it wasn't cold there, where he was standing. It wasn't warm there, either. His skin simply refused to feel anything, actually, just leaving him there to wonder if that was supposed to happen. He had never been dead before, you see.

"Hello?" His cowardly voice echoed throughout the dark room, nothing stopped the sound. The man gulped, his eyes darting around. He would've given up so many things just to know what the hell was going on or where the hell he was. Maybe it was the answer? He was in hell? Could it be-but no, no, he had never done anything to stay in hell. Ever.

He carefully looked around, trying to find some answers to the countless questions that had been flying around in his head. The room was all dark, black and gray, and it seemed to last forever. There were barely any walls or ceiling, and when the man looked up, all he could see was endless darkness. Nothing to tell the time or space, for that matter. Nothing to help him escape.

"Hello!" He shouted louder, when he realised there was nobody there who could actually hear him. There was nobody who could hurt him either, so it wasn't such a bad thing.

Wait. Hurt? Could he still be hurt? The guy pinched his wrist, and his eyes widened a bit when he realised he felt no pain. He couldn't even feel the warmth of his body anymore. He just felt... Empty. Like his body didn't belong to him anymore. Like nothing belonged to him anymore.

Okay, this was a bit unnerving. The man shivered again, turning around in futile hopes to see anybody watching him. Was this a game of some sort? He had died, for crying out loud! This wasn't the best time for anybody to play these games with him!

"Where are you?!" He cried out, but the sound died in vain. There wasn't anybody there to hear his cry. Nobody. Just loneliness and endless darkness with a bit of grey colour mixed into it. But the spots of that colour simply disappeared whenever the guy attempted to go to them.

It felt like hours. He walked and then ran, he screamed and shouted just as panic began to settle in. This wasn't a place where he wanted to be! There had to be a way out of here! This couldn't be the so-called afterlife, could it? It better not be!

"You're dead."

The familiar voice sounded too close for comfort. The man yelped and whipped around, his gaze meeting with the eyes of a woman. She wasn't as tall as him, wearing a white dress that covered her ankles and wrists. Her slightly wavy hair were laying over her shoulders, curling a bit right under her ears. The guy let out a sigh of relief.

"Ellie!" He laughed a bit, running closer to his friend. "Oh, old friend, am I glad to see you-"

"Stop it, Soren." She interrupted, darkness swirling behind her eyes. The man obeyed in surprise, staring at the woman he had known almost his entire life. But as she raised her eyes at him, there was no empathy nor nostalgia in them. Just exhaustion and patience.

"Wha-what's going on?" Soren inquired, looking around them. Nothing. Nothing but pitch darkness and mystical spots of grey. Maybe they were there so that he could actually know where he was going, even though they weren't doing such a good job at helping him navigate.

Ellegaard only looked away, pain evident in her gaze as she observed the darkness around them. The man tried to see what she was seing, but it didn't work out that well. He had no idea what was going on, and he was simply furious by that. After knowing much more than any other mortal could hope to learn in their entire life, having no idea about something almost sounded pathetic.