Puck had sat himself down on the steamy ground, in a darkened cell, away from it all: deep in the hot damp depths of Hell.
He often went there to collect his thoughts as this inspired him - he found it woke his mind well, stripping it of its usual bliss and fizz and endless poetry.
Over the ages Puck's visits became alike to a human frequenting a lost dogs' home, pitying the shivering creatures who mourn audibly, whining to be released. It really was no more or less than a simple compassion drawing him back, and when it was possible he would even adopt one or two.
Now and then he would take the 'Celebrity Walk' down to some of the out of the way corridors where few would go. These sectors were for long staying souls impounded - brutal men and women whose influence on worldly history had been significantly dire.
The small enclosures ran side by side, with no precipice or shared company. There they lay in solitary, reliving the hardships caused on others - feeling every terrible suffering inflicted, now upon themselves. Poked by their own barbs, these experiences were detailed and true, with many destined to remain over centuries to endure and work through it all.
The perimeters of karma are set firmly and close - much closer than the mortals ever realize ... with its balances and adjustments coming from within, and not, as supposed, from without.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series
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