automailed | [Video / Action]

[The journal clicks on as it drops to the ground, recording a quiet curse and a dark screen. After a moment it lifts up, revealing a flash view of Edward in a tank top as he tilts his arm, prodding at the metal limb that is apparently not cooperating as well as it should.]

What the hell is wrong with this thing? It's not-

[And his words are quite abruptly cut off as a small explosion sparks between the journal and his shoulder, and there's a flurry of images too smothered by motion blur to really make any sense. The audio, or what can be made out beyond the rush of air, is replaced by a startled yelp, followed by silence... and then, as the journal crashes into the foliage after a few moments, a steady stream of colourful and half-muffled curses.

To illustrate...

Action-wise: Edward is going to be around the town today, though not his usual, unhappily-composed self. No, today he is going to be chasing his arm around the town, since it's apparently decided to malfunction and start going off completely at random! So maybe you see it flying past you. Maybe you see it crash. Maybe it crashes into you. Or maybe, while running, he trips, stumbles, and... rolls on one foot in a mad flail as if on skates or something. Today is just not his day at all.

In other words? Haruhi got her way, as usual...]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Zehahaha! Yeah, I'm fine, kid. [He grabs the metal arm on the ground, lifting it up to get a closer look at it.] What the hell's this thing supposed ta be, though? Those Malnosso bastards had better not be throwin' chunks o' metal at us just ta see what'd happen! [He wouldn't put it past them, honestly.]

[....Crap, the fat guy got to his arm first! Edward shifts awkwardly, looking very uncomfortable about the fact that someone else is handling his automail. It's just weird, okay?]

It's... ah. My arm. Sorry.

[PLEASE DON'T SWALLOW HIM, GIANT MAN]

[What are you talking about? He doesn't eat people! Well, there was that one time...]

Yer arm? But it's made outta metal!

...

...

Are ya some kinda robot? [He sounds really excited about this prospect.]

[........Sigh. This is getting old.]

It's called automail. It's a prosthetic arm.

A prawn's-what arm? [He doesn't know what automail is, nor does he care - to him, metal is all the same, regardless of what it's made of.]

[Pr... prawns... that's a new one.]

Pros-the-tic. A metal arm to replace a real one. That kind of thing.

Well, it can't be a very good replacement if it keeps fallin' off ya! Zehahahahaha!

[He's lucky Winry isn't around to hear that. ...He has a good point, though.]

Yeah, whatever. [He holds out his hand, hoping to get the arm back. He'd kind of like to put it back on.]

[Blackbeard tosses the arm back at Ed. If it's just a poorly-made replacement, it's not as interesting as he thought it was.]

Gotta say, though, I ain't ever seen anything like that before! Who made it, anyways?

You know Winry? She's an automail mechanic, she works at the smithy here.

Really? Well, I don't go in there too much, but I'll have ta make a short stop there an' see this "Winry" person! If she can build somethin' like this, even if it keeps fallin' off, she must be pretty smart! [Then again, it's not that hard to impress him - he comes from a world that, with a few exceptions, has 16th century levels of technology.]

She is. [He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world.] She's the best mechanic I know.

[And he's met others, sure, and they've made great automail. But he has Briggs automail and it's the best thing ever, so ha.]