Internalized reminiscence by a character on a series of events.
The metal in his mouth tastes cool and tangy and yummy but he can't eat because he has to find Lust.
The feeling came more naturally than anything he'd known.
The idiot prince still couldn't be bothered to figure out the different notes and coins, probably because he'd never actually paid for anything in his life.
Faith, he'd thought, was something he'd learned as a child, squirming on the hard wooden pews.
What he really wanted to know was something else - a question of 'why', quite likely.
It was such a beautiful way to die.
He just carries himself with a certain atmosphere, one that feels like splinters of buildings falling off walls and landing broken or the smell of roasted flesh.
Brother wasn't the only one hiding his fears; I was so afraid everything I knew was a lie -- that our brotherhood was a lie.
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.
She could remember his voice, husky with tortured emotion, screaming a name, the name "Edward Elric..."
Roy could order her to stay home and rest, but he couldn't keep her from cleaning.
Of course, when she was their age she could hardly recite her multiplication tables, much less draw complex alchemical glyphs.
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.
And there was a certain look they shared, the one they both used when they thought Ed was being unreasonably stubborn.
For now, he has mastered one world, two worlds; they have mastered him as well, and he is tired.
Because he had said one year; and dammit, he meant it.
Impress, they had told him. Make us see why we should choose you as one of our own.
Edward had come into his life, taken over his life; and sometimes Roy wondered what was left of it for him.
It is somewhat odd that two brothers can be so different, yet so close.
Heavy-lidded, he would savor them slowly, letting them seep into his mind's eye until he could see nothing else.
Alphonse had thought that he must have the bravest brother in the world.
Even so, you still are a manipulative bastard.
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.
That day, Ed had pulled his hair out of a braid and tied it up into a neat ponytail.
On Thursdays, Riza Hawkeye usually skipped the morning work and went to the office at noon.
Life, the Fullmetal Alchemist decided viciously, wasn't fair.
There is immortality deep within us that has nothing to do with corruptible flesh and earthly demise.
When the lines didn't matter, when the lungs weren't working in labor of sweet industry worlds, then it was so easy to see where they might be all born of the same blood.
There were precious few memories remaining, now, dimmed with the passage of time and the years that he’d spent lacking a flesh body, but he kept them close to him all the same.
I was talking with Al one day. And I was explaining how a long-term relationship is like a religion. They both have similar hallmarks...
Riza looks straight ahead. "Personally, I found during my time in Ishbal that nothing stops a career faster than a bullet between the eyes."
Greed has one, fundamental, flaw.
In that moment, nature feels alive around her, resisting her, and every small victory of every small breath confirms that she’s alive, too.
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'.
Alfons is a scientific man, and Edward is his paradox.
There was one thing that Edward had missed above all others.
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.
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."
...the two men drank Roy's good whiskey, clinked glasses and Maes exclaimed that It was about damn time.
Rubbing at a fading reminder of one such lesson on his left biceps, he hopes she appreciates what a formidable champion she’s gained.
Nothing made sense anymore.
His arms weren't big enough to encompass all of himself, and Edward always got the pieces that he couldn't reach.
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.
She feels like an intruder, eyes watching her from empty rooms, and every stair is a memory she dares not to disturb.
Very few alchemists believed in God, but all of them believed in books.
It was well known around Central headquarters that Roy Mustang was lusting after the visiting Major-General.
There was no question that the very act of living in this world was to be in exile.
They were not used to being alone and when they were together they were not.