His name. His name on wet, bloody lips. Edward turned his face away, his lips in the long, dark hair.
Here, in this place where eyes were all but useless, hearing could be confounded with the sensation of touch.
There was gold in the middle of midnight, and Envy smiled over his satisfaction.
But there would be no alchemy crackling to his command, not in this world, and the thought of swinging a weapon against this man left him cold in agony.
I had offered him something he couldn't deny, something he couldn't refuse: the blink of salvation and a flesh-and-blood body for his brother.
Everything — Ed's wishes, his remaining dignity, even his trust — was going to have to come second to Ed's life.
It isn't often that our darkest fantasies get fulfilled.
This was always my favorite part of the day, when I could observe the wicked gleams of a glare I wasn't meant to see.
Envy was no poet -- one could say that he lacked a poet's soul -- but he did recognize beauty when he saw it.
"That angel hated God's second born. He was jealous. Why was he so easy to cast aside and walk away from?"
Ed always got sappy in the afterglow.
There were lines that should never be crossed and things one should never wish for, and sometimes even the best of intentions were not enough.
There are some things that aren't to be tolerated.
"You just can't get enough punishment, can you, you little masochist?"
Are those little flamels on his pajamas? Where the hell does he shop, Alchemist Cliches 'R Us?
Envy forced down the nasty smirk that threatened to overwhelm him.
Here's the game then: I'm gonna tell you what I want you to do, and you're gonna do it exactly as I say.
A sin, to mar that innocence of sex, to put physical feelings with intellectual knowledge.
The blow cracked Ed's cheekbone, an audible noise in the quiet room, and he felt and tasted the blood that filled his mouth.