It was simple, this path, this darkened path. To break, one simply had to sever the veins of humanity and let the morality bleed out onto the floor in a puddle of ethics and ideas, of hopes and dreams. Then, the throes would set in, death that would end this end of rampant advantageous attitude and bring it to something... acceptable to the ends needed.
Envy smiled, Sloth at his elbow, all eyes on the boy (for as much of a man as he was, only now was he a boy, a toy, something to roll in their grasp) who sat in the far corner. Arms were chained, far apart and over his head, the ends locked into the wall with bolts and plates, lost amid gray stone. Basements were so handy for such wicked escapades, were they not?
The golden child. The holy. The remarkable insignificant.
"He didn't like the news," Envy purred, tossing the helmet into the air, watching the endless tassel twist in the arch of air before falling back into his hands. Inside, there were no soul-fire eyes, no determination, no invisible soul. "Pity."
She made no sound, nothing, but turned and knelt down beside the son of one so... much unlike her. "Your tears," she whispered, her fingertips along his jaw, down his cheeks, sodden and pale. "You don't have to cry them anymore. You can bring him back. You can bring us all back."
Bones sounded like an orchestra when they split, when they parted, oh, and let the marrow slide over the floor. Envy mused that this was what it sounded like when a spirit broke, a large pop of a fictitious heart, the snapsnapsnap of each rib cage. And even though the room was silent aside from the fabric of Sloth's gloves rubbing over the twerp's skin, the ragged sound of hiccupping breath, it was still a symphony if anyone decided to listen under the surface.
Like any predatory killer, any instinctual beast, Envy was fixed, thrived on death, knew what signs spoke volumes when there were no words present. The world was ending, in all hopes, and he would be there to pluck the souls if only so he could listen to spirits break one by one, oh, if only they would all look at him like Edward did, if only they would show him glittering golden hues.
As the make-believe mother let her child free, unlocked the shackles that restricted him, he hunched over the helmet, clinging to it tightly while he attempted to muddle through his mind in hopes of releasing all shackles of all the world. Al was gone, gone and safe from this agony in his chest, gone away from the cruel fingers of torment and grief, gone away where he couldn't feel , swim in this! Drown, drown, down to the bottom!
If only...if only...
Let them all be free of the torment, of all this pain, this war, this death. Let them all go together so loneliness would be felt only by the last one, the one left remaining.
Let none of them touch his soul as he was touching all of theirs.
It didn't matter to the sins, either way; release, life, death, they were all words, syllables with no real depth, no real meaning outside the way the tongue curled to form them. As they closed the door behind them, leaving him to his grief and his ache, Envy smirked at his sister in transgression. "Let's hope he fixes this before he finds his brother."
"I don't know why you didn't bother to kill the youngest," came the bored response, soft as they didn't have to travel over her footsteps, not when she moved, not this creature. "It would have saved us so much trouble."
Envy started up the stairs that would lead him towards the ballroom, to Dante, to their God who they would never dirty with their offense. "But, Sloth, it's so much more fun when we're the only ones holding all the secrets that could change the game."
And as they burst into the light, Edward Elric screamed under the hands of midnight.