Hey Guys I just wanted to make sure everyone knew that I'm still alive, so yeah, I actually had this mostly finished in August, but i completely forgot about it so I'm sorry for that.
My memories of the war are all too vivid, contrary to what several of my superior officers claimed would be the case. It was possible that I was naturally adept at being haunted, gifted with the skill to be tortured unilaterally by ghouls, unable to rest properly. During drawn out battles my only comfort was the songs she, Weiss Schnee, a fellow officer in my sister's unit, would sing, that being said Weiss was my shadow, my opposer, a being who's existence seemed to mirror mine in any, and surely speaking, every way possible; except for one, we two were soldiers. Killers through and through. She the "Siren of demise," and I the "Rose-petal reaper."
Though the two of us had many differences they were all unimportant in the heat of battle, during a fight, In the midst of a skirmish, she was the person I trusted the most, even more so than my sister. She and I were Polar opposites right down to our physical attributes, her hair was a long, pure, silvery white, burden, bundled up into a tidy, bellicose ponytail. My own hair was short, black with tips tainted red, only long enough to reach my shoulders. My body was blemished by cuts and scratches, smothered here and there by traces of gunpowder, while her body was a temple held in prestige, not just her body, but even her clothes were without any signs of uncleanliness or wear.
Its been some time since I've left the unit, and in turn, its been a long time since I last spoke to Weiss. To be honest I do owe her an apology. I'm responsible for the scar that she bears across her face, the only blemish to her beautiful visage, was because of me.
It was late at night during the war, my sister Yang's platoon was stationed at a point near the front of the line, we were tasked with holding the enemy back as our army retreated, in other words a suicide mission. Our small group lasted a long time, pinned down by a hail of bullets, occasionally one of us would appear from behind cover, let out a few shots, and listen as the sound of gunshots from the enemy side grew slightly quieter. Walls made of sheet rocks were our only cover from enemy fire, so in honest we may as well have been standing out in the open with silk veils barely concealing our presences. Sweat packed itself in layers across my skin, my hand was cramping, the side effect of clenching onto my pistol for dear life, to the extent that my fingers had started to bleed, dripping my life's essence in madder red pools of dwindling vigour.
We survived because we were skilled, we avoided injury because we were wary, we refused casualty because we were desperate. At our best the sound of gunfire became the chorus of our struggles, Yet these qualities couldn't guarantee our safety for long, we were; after all, only a small platoon, consisting of just less than 20 members, against us stood an army, standing just short of having ten times the amount of soldiers as us. We were lacking in man power, stamina, rations, and ammo; it was literally impossible for us to win, just surviving was about the best we could do.
Little else existed in between the sounds of blaring gunshots and lingering scent of rotting corpses, time had already become an enemy to my unit. Within the span of three hours we were running low on bullets, we had only lasted that long because we managed to snatch some ammunition off the corpses of the fallen.
Time passed and the advances of the enemy crept closer and closer to our door, it took all we had just to slow their pace, the words, "kill or be killed," flashed in my mind, a melancholic sound, similar to that of a heart beat, slowly but surely losing strength, overtook my ears, harmonizing with those words. "All I need to do is kill the commanding officer and this should end," I spoke under my breath to nobody. Like a cornered mouse I lashed out against the opposing army, leaving the few still sane people behind. I abandoned the shallow protection given by the sheet rock and instead dove straight at the enemy, only wasting the energy to dodge bullets when they would have proved fatal, and even then only by a hair's breadth. I unloaded the entire magazine of my pistol into the forward line, making sure that each shot was aimed precisely at their skulls. I pressed forward, dropping the, now empty, pistol and in the same moment snatching an assault rifle from the hands of one of the enemies I'd just killed off, shooting it with almost inhuman precision straight down the middle of enemy lines. Using the enemy's shock as a chance I continued to move through the lines without worrying about being injured, I simply rushed ahead, there were times where I heard the sound of an enemy taking aim at me, but they were always swiftly followed by the sound of a bullet's impact reaching its target. I unconsciously pulled the trigger, leaving the head of an enemy soldier filled with bullets in an instant, using the momentum to propel myself forward while stealing his side-arm, and repeating the process, like a whirlwind I made my way through their lines.
By the time I caught sight of their commanding officer, my body was plastered with wounds, from many of them blood leaked out painting the dirt with a crimson tinge. I noticed him before he noticed me, and while following the sounds of his shouting I was given the perfect chance to end his life. As my finger curled around the trigger, which seemed to have gained a mysterious weight since last I pulled it, an intense chill ran down my spine, and in an instant I felt myself being flung aside with enough force to make me prematurely pull the trigger. A familiar head of silvery white hair took my place and in turn was struck by the bullet meant for me whizzing ominously by her head, getting only close enough to cut past her eye, a scar, now imprinted upon her once unblemished face, now oozing blood profusely. She stifled back a scream
I had been naïve, even with the commanding officer out of commission it should have been obvious that an army would have a contingency plan for actions against their leader. For a moment time stopped, the beating of my heart became painful, my entire body felt as if I was covered in tar, and even breathing became an impossible for me. All I could do was sit there with my eyes wide open, waiting for my end to come, I could hardly keep myself from peeking over to Weiss, I wanted to see what kind of face she'd make in her final moments, but looking at her I knew that we weren't fated to die here, there was a spark of life in her eyes that said so, she didn't possess the desperation of an animal on its deathbed, that's for sure.
Gunshots roared from every side, Yang, leading the platoon were forcing the enemies back. The world, which seemed to be moving in slow motion until she appeared, had started to move at its natural pace.
"Ruby you dunce," the snow haired Fräulein (yeah I'm running out of ways to say girl) screamed at the top of her lungs in an impressively unladylike fashion, "do you have any idea how much danger you put yourself in, WHAT IF YOU DIED!" She continued letting the nonchalant expression given by Ruby fuel her argument, "I-if you were gone then..." even with the extra anger fuelling her fire she slowly began to quiet down, her voice growing shaky, "we're a team aren't we, how could you leave me..." She trailed off emotion taking over her tone.