Welcome to Melancholy of Black Despair!
This is the first attempt at an almost completely new fic. So feel free to ask a lot of questions and give some constructive criticism if you feel that I'm running this fic down a sinkhole.
With that being said, It's set in DxD (Obviously) and all semblance of canon has been utterly destroyed. (I hate canon so much, why the fuck do people nag about it so much?)
To make things clear before we go further, this fic is meant to be taken seriously. (First time for any DxD fic I've read.)This fic is also going to be extremely dark and almost offensive in some scenes. I will only give warnings to some scenes that are highly disturbing. (Such as Vore, physical torture scenes, child death, etc.)
As usual you are free to comment and make valid criticism on the fic. You're also free to flame, cause I'll just ignore them.
Now for the Disclaimer.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for the OC's , Plot, and some Original Worlds featured in this fic. If I did, then this fic would be canon.With that out of the way, enjoy!
(EDIT) I reworked the prologue for almost the same reason with chapter 2.
I needed to give people a taste of exactly how dark it is before we move on with the ever important Chapter 7. But honestly, i feel like that previous prologue wasn't really good and although it was important, the dream didn't really contribute much to the story, especially if its appearing now, instead of later down the line.
The thing that got me thinking about this was. "This is called Melancholy of Black Despair. why the fuck is the prologue so colourful?"
This references a plot line that many of you won't be able to understand right away. However, I can't stress enough about saying how super incredibly important this little tidbit actually is.
Am I the Abyss?
Constantly this question ran through my mind. Even now as I stood on this empty, aimless hallway. No feeling, no sounds. And the only thing keeping me company is the black door at the end.
I looked down at my raising and deflating chest, on it, rested a key. It lacked any type of ornament or shine to distinguish anything special from it.
It was quite old, the key was in fact really thick. As if it were meant to unlock a cage or binds.
Continuously, I switched my view from the door to that of the key.
Soon after, I took the key off my neck and brought it closer to my sight. The blackness behind the shadows and silhouettes grew deeper and had begun to stretch throughout the colorless hallway.
As I stared at the rapidly encroaching shadows, I couldn't shake the fear of something happening if they touch me. Hence, I spun around and dashed towards the black door.
During that moment, the hallway grew and the black door stretched further away from me.
The shadows stretched out far quicker than before, to the extent of matching me as I run away from them.
For a moment I stopped to look back at the shadows. But soon, no quicker than the second I took to look back was I consumed by it darkness.
For a moment, I felt the sensation of time stopping in its tracks. I feel everything slow. The breath that escapes my lips, the blood running through my veins and even my heart until finally everything stopped.
I couldn't see anything, or feel anything except for a rapidly arising anxiety within my heart.
I raised my hand and pull out the key. It itself, now stained with the deepest black I have ever seen.
So much so that even within this never ending abyss, I can still make out its shape.
Something in me told me to fear it, to break it or toss it away, yet it enamored me, captured my attention. I concentrate on it. It's still here.
There's a lightness to the dark. To its silence. Its oppressiveness.
The Key stands before me, completely solid.
The distorted world around me is oddly peaceful yet eerie. Even as I feel it slither up inside me, draining my flesh, blackening my veins.
Soon I could feel that my body was no longer my own. Awake I was, yet still I felt my body dangle, dragged into the darkness by the claws of the encroaching shadows.
The darkness seeped into my skin like black tar. Its thickness, its odd texture, comforted me.
Despite how it restrained me, how it merged with me. How it seeped into the pores of my broken flesh, made me its puppet and reforged me.
I closed my eyes, as I sunk deeper and deeper. Crawling into darkness.
My darkness.
I smile. It was the only place I am able to eat my fill, where I am able to avoid all pain and all the constant eyes staring at me. Glaring at me. Judging me.
The encroaching darkness.
My darkness.
.
.
…my despair.