Cryogenia are elusive creatures primarily found in quiet corners of Live Journal. They predate upon all varieties of Elric and have been known to torment them with genderswitch. However, the cunning tracker will note Cryogenias are easily distractable, and can often be lured away with shiny bits of metal and —
Ah. Fans. He preens slightly into his coat, sits up just a little taller on his haunches. Fans he knows how to deal with.
His brother was brilliant at many things, but finances were not one of them.
He has felt this before, from homunculi and other dead things, and where Al does not have those tactile memories from Before, only visual ones (thankfully, thankfully), Ed certainly does.
Edward had come into his life, taken over his life; and sometimes Roy wondered what was left of it for him.
... and the moral of the story is - well, I guess there's no moral to this story, it's just a bunch of stuff that happened. Kind of like the rest of this movie.
Alphonse washed, and Edward dried (owing to the automail; safer not to submerge), and between the two of them the stack eventually diminished.
Alfons swears he doesn't need glasses - and maybe he doesn't, if he can see such phenomena as the Gegenschein light--but up close he has trouble like this.
"This one's for you, Al." Edward swore, raised the glass to his lips, and braced for the impact.
It was getting kind of depressing, though, by the time the color red alone would make him wonder about the child; the flash of a cardinal, a sprig of bright berries, the gaudiness of nighttime tavern lights, and the scarlet lipstick of bar women.
Sometimes, he prays that the hand will come down and Ed will tell him gently they are done, they are going to quit, end the nightmare before it worsens.
Nurses in white smocks bustle about a tiny nurses's station, and he is intercepted by one of the younger ones, a new girl he doesn't recognize.
"Do you remember that song Mom used to sing to us?" He asked instead, concentrating on the tiny kinks of the inside of his detached leg.
That was the problem with girls these days... they just didn't know how to deal with a little pain.
He doesn't have time for any of this, oak trees and summer days and a pale, bony hand twined with his.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out her tobac tin, more to annoy her visitor than anything else.
Car broke down again, couple kilometers out of the city, so they had to walk for a while, until Alfons couldn't speak for the coughing.
He has lots of women like her, who would like to be his anchor, and too many of them confuse that for throwing themselves head first into the ocean.
He was coming to read Alfons pretty well now too, and from what Al did understand he could give as good as he got.
It was not fair to the boy to get tripped up by what he looked like, especially not when he had avoided it for so many years already.
He's getting so awfully, awfully tired of pictures, but they won't just stop coming.
This too, was wrong – not at all the way these things were supposed to go. In his mind's eye, Edward was already yielding to the pressure of his witty onslaught.
"Do we still have cucumbers? Or I guess I could transmute a mold, do you need this dining chair?"
Heaven is this: a short, crisp October day, the clear sky a great bowl above them, the amber valley a chalice below.
He inhaled deeply, felt the darkness ripple over his skin, and the room seemed to flex and expand around him.
Something about the place seems to be sucking the life out of him; the more time he spends indoors, the more he seems to wilt.
"We'll have you patched up in no time." Edward announced, slicing the leather into short, precise strips. It was irrational, but somehow Alphonse hated those words.
Alfons Heiderich, this universe's most cruel mistake, came round from the other side of the crumbling brick wall, and Ed found himself again wondering if the man existed solely for his personal torment.
Alfons had never had anyone his age to horse around with, Edward thought, and as cerebral as he was he probably didn't get in many street fights.
Edward snaps awake at precisely three thirty-one in the morning, safe in a bed next to his one and only brother, and for the life of him he cannot imagine why.
Fullmetal was starting to turn slightly purple, now, which definitely clashed with his coloring...
To he who seeks, let him find. That was Ed's motto.
Of course, the jar was really the professional female companionship fund; or, as Ed liked to sarcastically call it, the pussy kitty.
And then the Words were coming again, maddening addiction crawling straight down inside, making him itch, making him want.
The sheer naughtiness of it all was unexpectedly exciting, and she found herself trembling even before the cold steel met her skin.
He was only human though, and he had given into his rage at having to deal with Edward's dysfunction--and now Edward was gone, and it looked more and more like he might not be coming back.
It was as if there was an invisible box Edward carried with him, keeping a careful several inches between him and the rest of the world at all times.
His brother seemed to like it when the leather left marks, a residual token of ownership, even when the collar (by job-dictated necessity) had to be removed.
His flatmate is a night owl and is always knocking around at odd hours, reading well in the early morning; if Alfons didn't remind him to sleep he most likely never would bother to.
Endorphins then, that's what he's been missing.
He realized for the first time that Edward, who he was used to seeing shadowed by blood and sweat and his own private sorrows, was actually beautiful.
After so many years in the dark, Edward Elric had discovered he had a libido after all, and it was unfortunately exacting its frustrated vengeance upon one Alphonse Elric.