"Abyss"

[Guest Fiona Weber]

It was a cliche, but war was Hell.

 

You could never fully understand the term until you'd had to establish battleground triage, stumbling over the dead, near-dead, or maimed. But, at least she knew she wasn't personally responsible for this round of misery.

 

Sometimes, she wondered, if the remaining bloodthirsty leaders that engineered conflicts could see first-hand what they'd wage, if they would still have laid out their decisive plans for war and battle. Let them have a turn at playing the 'battlefield angel' or the person that had to go back through and clean up their messes, and see if the diplomats weren't made more use of.

 

But there you go again -- ever cynical, Fiona?

 

And?

 

Why was she having more mental conversations with herself? Was that even healthy? She should check with a medical professional!

 

Except... the only doctor around was herself, and her medicinal skills were already spoken for at present. A shame, that. But she'd have to deal with her psychological demons at a later date.

 

Back to Hell.