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khaenn35

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About khaenn35

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  • Birthday 07/02/2002
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  1. Abyss

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    "This is Furutaka-class Heavy Cruiser Kako."
    Her fists glared where her eye clenched.
    "I regret to inform you that the base at Yamashita Attol has fallen."
    Crimson spared not the tears of sorrow running down her face, leaving ugly scars trickling through her already-tattered clothes.
    "There are no survivors. There won't be. I fall with the secrets I hold, and I entrust those lives I hold to the safety of hell below."
    Agony sent cracks branching through her body, its twin sent one up the emotionless facade of her voice.
    "I love... Hngh... You all..."

     

    A pained cough and a forced sigh sent the newly-built biplane and its camera sparking down the catapult. The thrust of steam shoved polished steel forward, forcing air under wings until the propellers did the same, sending the young craft ascending shakily into the war-torn night sky.
    Flak reached out to greet it.
    Banking, spinning, soaring, diving. Flak tore at the polish, shrapnel scraping away at paint shining with youth. A lucky shell spit a spark into a wounded engine, sending flames spewing out onto the wing.
    Youth flamed and faded, spiralling down to a fiery death, unseen, unknown by its guardian.
    She'd feel it for herself.

     

    The Abyss--
    Fight the Abyss--
    She'd fought them all her life. She fought it all her life.
    For every one of them she fought, for every one of them she killed, it dragged her deeper to depths beyond, edging her ever closer to a dark, bland climax, teetering on the edge of the abyss itself.
    Memories, mild, wild. Murders, massacres, more etched into her mind. Melted together, manifesting madness, joy barely resisted, let alone fought. It was a pot of molten lead, nauseating, poisonous, heavy, ballast weighing her down its sickly depths.

     

    She'd rather go to hell.

     

    They closed in, it closed in.
    She brushed it aside as she stood, on the concrete pier she chose to be her last stand.
    And blasted it aside with a gift of hell.

     

    The recoil against her arm as two shells flew from a turret, blowing apart the face of the first. The second turned only for her to take the brunt of two more.
    The pier exploded with gunfire. Ducking, shells clicked neatly into place as more flew past, above her.
    Efficiency, accuracy. Rising, she felt the recoil of her shots, two more falling with holes in their heads. She ducked again to see an eye shining back from the box opposite her, and the recoil from her shotgun revealed a young destroyer with her face torn off.
    Details became a blur, motion and instinct sharpened. Rising, Recoiling, each accompanied by a splash of red with figures of white, grey, black. The shock as a single step rang close, the strain as her arms launched her in a roll over the box she took cover behind, the recoiling burning in them as one more sprayed blood on grey concrete, the prone body soft beneath her feet.
    The agony as a shot tore through her side and a kick sent her sideways.
    Ringing, vision and concentration sharpened back into torturous pain and agonizing reality, along with the feel of the barrel of a Battleship's cannon leveled directly at her body.
    A timely dodge made the killing blow into a saving one, as the explosion gave her one very hot push, sending her slamming painfully into another box, aching but very much alive.
    And waiting, for when the Battleship revealed herself again, she was greeted with a hot serving of lead tearing through her head. A battered but breathing Kako rose just a little, panting with relief.
    She wasn't ready to die just yet.
    Shots fired, straddled, she responded with her own, lead tearing through heads and chests. Shells flew through the air, walls of deadly steel-hits were inevitable in the fusillade.
    One sank into her back, sending her sprawling yet again, another slammed into a turret, sending it up in an explosion with nearly took her arm.
    Maybe it was time for more.
    Her eyes adjusted to the clearing smoke, to the squadrons of Abyssals lined up and firing at her, atop the pier she chose for her last stand.
    She chose wisely, and she'd made her own wisdom.
    Her hands reached down her pocket, tugging out a single, simple remote, on which she depressed a red button.
    As she said, she'd rather go to hell.
    The flames of hell consumed the pier almost instantly, the sound deadened to her even the second later.
    The resulting shockwave sent her body flying, soaring through the air with the debris of her destruction.

     

    Peace.


    At last.


    The abyss reached for her.
    It consumed her. The abyss consumed her.
    She sank down depths, cold and unforgiving, the metal on her body dragging her down, feeling little but bitterness.
    Even hell had refused her.
    She'd fought, she'd looked away from it. Now, surrounded, face to face with it, she felt it embrace her, welcome her to her fate beyond. Spirits of Dreadnoughts seemed to comfort her, through her descent through fear itself. The cold flow on her naked skin soothing the flames, the sudden jerks massaging her strains...

     

    She let it take her down the path of all joy.

     

    For when it's all dark, but a single candle can light up the night.

     

    Even if it's the gate to hell.

     

    And it was thus that the abyss' dragged her.
     

    She awoke to find herself alive.
    Comfort surrounded her, this time supplanted by warmth. Everything seemed warm, white, bright, but for the black-hooded figure seated beside her, casting her in a unfeeling gaze.
    An Abyss--
    Reflex sent a fist flying towards his face before she could finish.
    He caught it in his palm, his arm trembling at the unnatural strength of her punch. He let out a strained sigh, fingers enclosing on her fist.
    "S...sis...?"
    The fist immediately ceased its assault, gently unclenching in his calloused hands. The same hands that took both hood and hair, gently prying them aside to reveal battle-weary faces and wide, glazed eyes.
    "K...Ka-kun... Bro..."
    Their embrace was warm and tight, yet sapped of energy, of emotion.
    Both trickled back slowly, memories, experiences haunted by the darkness. The fear of fear becoming release, the dread of dread becoming joy, the descent of life resigned to the depths.
    And from it they drew strength. From that they drew love.
    Tears of joy trickled down their faces, scarring each other with love.
    For love shines through where light does not.

     

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    In response to @Rolkatsuki's story. A much, much darker one nonetheless, but written to show her troubles and fears. I left in copious amounts of Literature and word-games (For example, the Abyss relates to three things) for this story, but my end wasn't completely satisfactory. Irregardless, this story may be deep and dark, but one thing should shine through for you: I will always be there for you, sis. We will always be there for you, and when the darkness arrives and the abyss consumes, reach for the light that is your friends, and we will reach for you.

    -Khaen

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