"We don't know for sure." Ed rested his chin on his metal arm, gazing unseeingly out the window. "But people go in there, and they don't come out."
"As you can see," she said to Mr. Elric, wryly, "Appreciate them while they're at this age, because they turn into teenagers in the blink of an eye."
"I'm told by Mr. Mason that you resisted being fed, and he had you punished for that."
"Pretty!" she says, and kneels to press her palms to the curls and knots chalked on the stones. "Papa! Did you drawed this? What's it for?"
And when you held your breath, where did you keep it, in your lungs or your mouth or your throat?
It was easy enough to start a fire, with the appropriate array and dry wood.
If armor could narrow its eyes, Ed knew Al would have been doing so.
Roy Mustang was shipped back home last week. Neat as a parcel of vegetables with the stamp upside-down on the crate.
Ed meets his eyes, holds them, and then -- slowly, painfully, but deliberately, traces his free hand in a line across his throat.
"You know, Al, you don't have to warm yourself in the sun for me."
It was growing to be habit, restless energy that ran under his skin after she'd just ran her hands over it.
rated:M-L | GENM+F |
She moves the king again, to its last optional safe square and murmurs, "I'll admit this is not how I envisioned my first night on the battlefield."
He'd meant to say something but Ed had been so determined, so anxious to be useful, to create something.
You'd have to be inhuman not to quake in fear when she stares you down.
...it's making up for years with a date and flowers by alternately giving her the good, and then the bad, and then the good, and then the bad, and then the horrible.
He was afraid, so afraid, that something would go wrong, but he couldn't let this go.
She accepted the label and its implication without argument, lifting the revolver and sighting along its barrel.
You've only been awake for thirty-six hours, staged a coup, fought a bunch of monsters and nearly died a few times. It's not as if you've had a tough day.
rated:M-L-V | GEN | Mangaverse | post-series | SP: up to ch 108 | DF: ch 105 | Dr Marcoh | Alex Louis Armstrong | Alphonse Elric | Cdr Grumman | Dr Knox | Edward Elric | Riza Hawkeye | Roy Mustang | death | mystery
"But he's just a kid... he's too short to be a criminal..."
He tilted his jaw and the kid struck the match, lit it, lifted it to his cigarette.
Unfortunately, Winry's 'own devices' were becoming the death of Pinako's various household devices.
He mostly trusted his brother to be able to put a nearly-three-year-old to bed by himself, but...Al should probably check, just to be sure.
"Well, I guess she can't keep him away from every bitch in heat around this place."
This is the smell of ozone from a lightning strike. This is fear.
"Well... Brother does that, every so often. He really should think before he tries to attack people."
He read his father's old, dog-eared textbooks, fascinated by the mechanics of alchemy.
Today I saw the god of fire, Roy writes in his notebook, knowing he will never be believed.
Envy had to admit, Edward Elric's body was convenient for maneuvering around the people in a crowd.
Any girl would be driven insane if she was the youngest child and the only girl in a family of six children.
"Would you like a blindfold, Mr. Tucker?"
He didn't play anymore, not with reports to file, books to read, notes to scratch out.
Ed woke up slowly, and wished he hadn't.
"What do you mean, you're PREGNANT?" Ed yelled through the door.
"I believe my exact words were, 'a microscopically short bean boy the size of a pin'."
Yet there are still nights that he wakes up to find his hand clutched by a seated Al, who laughs his hollow laugh and asks if he's okay, even though he does not remember screaming.
It was so terribly painful, really, the way he would smile when he was about to cry.
He lifted his eyes to Ed's, returned Ed's even, blank gaze. "Brothers," he said. "That's what we are."
Ed stalked into Mustang's office, growling illtemperedly under his breath.
She hasn't learned not to weep — only to weep without tears.
Ed liked him this way -- so why did it make him so furious to have to deal with Al caring one way or another about him?
He gave, and he gave, and he gave, and he could only hope that it was enough.
Impress, they had told him. Make us see why we should choose you as one of our own.
He recalled lifting it cautiously up to his nose, and then back away from the stinging, spicy herbs along with the smouldering scent of tobacco.
Death overtook Hohenheim unexpectedly on the road to knowledge.
The thought that Elric might be hanging around, watching him like yesterday, was just too creepy to contemplate.