Internalized reminiscence by a character on a series of events.
He had only meant to pass through the town; it wasn't like much would have changed anyway.
It is what people say to him because they cannot think of any other way to relate to him, this boy who has the heavy title of 'Full Metal Alchemist'.
Like other little girls, she wanted to be an actress, the heroine in her own perfect fairytale.
She clung to him so tightly that his skin was white under her fingertips.
Roy Mustang often looked back on his wedding night, recalling what he had thought about his subordinates; even now, they were his family, his safety, his friends.
Impress, they had told him. Make us see why we should choose you as one of our own.
He had started to wonder if it was Edward or himself that was farther out of reach at the moment.
The human body (or rather, the nearly-human homunculus body) is really an incredible thing.
He gave, and he gave, and he gave, and he could only hope that it was enough.
For now, he has mastered one world, two worlds; they have mastered him as well, and he is tired.
Alfons prays for the day when he will return to a far-off Edward, and somehow miraculously find the words, the actions, to call him back from his imaginary world.
The metal in his mouth tastes cool and tangy and yummy but he can't eat because he has to find Lust.
It seemed, the man thought, that Ed was a lot like the sun -- warm, comforting -- and at a distance.
Sometimes Roy would just hold him for an hour or more, late at night, blind comfort.
Death could come to Roy on his time. Appointment first. Lunch, maybe.
Heavy-lidded, he would savor them slowly, letting them seep into his mind's eye until he could see nothing else.
Faith, he'd thought, was something he'd learned as a child, squirming on the hard wooden pews.
He can hear their strained breathing but that's all, and he's never liked the General's silence and he likes Ed's even less.
Greed has one, fundamental, flaw.
There are things he cannot allow Greed to do.
And there was a certain look they shared, the one they both used when they thought Ed was being unreasonably stubborn.
That day, Ed had pulled his hair out of a braid and tied it up into a neat ponytail.
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.
Life, the Fullmetal Alchemist decided viciously, wasn't fair.
The taste of arsenic is golden, addictive, even it does pave the road to hell.
Nothing made sense anymore.
We were the naive kings of all we surveyed, lingering on the hilltop as we stared at our kingdom of ash, of ruins, of dust.
Edward had come into his life, taken over his life; and sometimes Roy wondered what was left of it for him.
She paced the wide, marble floor, visited each of the soaring windows, feeling every supple sinew beneath her skin move with the perfection of the young.
To her, the Philosopher's Stone is blood and fire: his fire, her blood.
When dealing with the military, it always paid to look ready for inspection. Neatness counted; passion was suspect.
The brush began its march through the sunbeam locks, from crown to tail, and Riza pressed her lips to them. "Until then."
I, the stray dog of the desert, who sloped long and pale, slashed to ribbons, across the moonlight sands on my journey to God.
Because he had said one year; and dammit, he meant it.
And after all, no amount of rain can wash the blood away.
Here was the corner where she retreated, reloading her gun as she prepared for another kill.
In that moment, nature feels alive around her, resisting her, and every small victory of every small breath confirms that she’s alive, too.
I know what I feel, I know what I think, and I don't need to chickenscratch the shit down and have the risk of it falling into the wrong hands.
It was such a beautiful way to die.
It didn't really sink in when you saw the thing, all clumsy dangling wood and leather straps, like the arm of a marionette in a kids' puppet show.
Roy could order her to stay home and rest, but he couldn't keep her from cleaning.
Alfons is a scientific man, and Edward is his paradox.
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.
Falling back into the sun-warmed grass, Al smiled to the skies, offered them his hopes and dreams on a gilded platter of golden eyes.
He wanted Hughes to know how many lines he had crossed in his lifetime.
It was only after the sheer sensation had abated — only when he felt on solid enough ground to focus on the subtleties of life once more — that the habit began to catch his attention.
He doesn't love Scar. The idea is ridiculous, but they are all they have left, each other's bodies rocks against the tide of strangeness, unfamiliarity.
It was well known around Central headquarters that Roy Mustang was lusting after the visiting Major-General.
Mustang is possessed, maybe, but not with the feverish intensity that will someday be the trademark of the Full Metal Alchemist.
She remembers the dreamlike way the pieces seemed to sit on the board—on account of the light, maybe, or perhaps her own faltering memory.