-The Inky Depths Of Love-

1-The Inky Depths Of Love-1

It was dark, pitch black, where you had been, and that certainly hadn't been any exaggeration of any sort. Dark, and rancid really- the smell of ink, it overwhelmingly filled your nostrils- luckily, you had been tilting your head up, so we wont have to be referring to that literally. You squirmed through the ink, gagging and hitching your breath in disgust and discomfort, it had been right up to your waist, smudging and curling against you, it had been trying to claim you, which certainly wasn't new since you'd been here multiple times before.

You shivered, shoving large, scribble filled books and rustically old chairs out of your way, trying to get through the inky and disgusting hallways. Well, of course, it would be rather inky- just a few days prior, things like this had happened- an ink flow, of course. Not just any "flow" you'd call it, but rather pipes leaking so rapidly that it would flood the place. Well, no wonder this ink was up to your waist, right in the own hallways that you lived in and inhabited, your own entrance to the safe house! You just wanted some soup, and dammit you were determined to retrieve it.

You grumbled under your heavy and hazy breaths, feeling almost intoxicated by the ink, sloshing and progressing throughout it, finally reaching the door to your safe house. Oh, thank the ink possessed demon, you had finally made it! You quickly reached for the door knob, opening the door and entering the safe house before you, turning sharply and slamming the door behind you so that none of the ink would seep into your safe house. Although, that didn't turn out very well, globs and streams of ink had slipped throughout the cracks of your door, resting and bubbling on your floorboards. You huffed, nudging some of it away with your foot, rolling your eyes.

"Ah, when does it ever stay out? I'll have to go back to Sammy's office sooner or later to steal that darned pan again..no way i'm gonna get this out with a soup can and a dream," You said, kneeling down beside the puddle of ink that had formed itself, pressing your hand into the puddle and feeling the ink on your hands, the ink curling around you eagerly. You groaned and yanked back, not allowing the ink to reach any farther than your wrist, scoffing as you stood back up and kicked the puddle of ink with your foot in irritation. The ink let out a small, disappointing grunt, slinking into the floorboards, already making itself at home apparently.

You sighed and turned away from the puddle quickly, heading over to your stove and setting a few cans of soup from the top cabinet down next to your stove, lighting it ablaze on the top burners. It was beautiful, seeing the blue, burning fire before your eyes. It was...different. More different than the usual beige and black colors around the studio. It was bright, beautiful, unique. It was...new. Not in general, you've had this stove top ever since you came here, but each time you see it, you've felt a sense of relief in a way.

Oh, not to mention, your stove top had been burning currently. Did I mention that? Ah, not burning- it was quite literally an uproar of fire-!

You yelped in surprise in fear, quickly blowing on the fire, panicking as you blew as much as you could, attempting to calm the flames before you, gripping onto the sides of the stove. After a few minutes of raspy and unsteady blowing against the fire, the fire slowly died down, cackling and swaying in peace as it calmed. You whined and rubbed some of the burnt areas of the surrounding kitchen, huffing and wiping your brow, sinking your shoulders and grunting under your breath. Then, setting your attention to the food, you set the pot on top of the stove top, relaxing slightly and sighing shakily.

"There we go...we cant forget to feed...them, after all." You mumbled under your breath shakily, glancing over to your door. Them, you may ask? Why, none other than the being that would knock on your door constantly, yet would never show its face. It always came at the exact same time, thirty minutes now- it knew it had been dinner time when the clock hit its own made up, imaginary time. You never quite knew what the being looked like, all you knew it was hungry and potentially dangerous. A searcher, a lost one, a butcher gang member- you never quite knew what it could have been.

Surely, it would remain a mystery...right?