Edward Elric (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
automailed) wrote2011-07-11 01:44 am
automailed) wrote2011-07-11 01:44 am
[Action /Voice]
[The week had passed with a certain degree of... something surreal, fake, imaginary. Edward can remember the white room, the gate, but most of all, the emptiness of it all. No Truth, no second gate, no Al. He'd been completely alone. And even his own body had felt as fake as the seemingly endless room; it was detached, uncomfortable. As if- as if it wasn't real-
...But that's impossible, isn't it?
He had plenty of time to debate the theory in his mind, at least. Whatever his body was in that place, it didn't need sleep. And as the hours passed into dull, empty silence, as his shouts and rants echoed back to his own ears, pointlessly, his only gain was a newfound clarity of what Al's nights must be like. If nothing else, this experience has given him an even greater incentive for getting Al's body back.
Nothing lasts forever, though, and eventually - he's not sure when or how long it's been - the simulated Gate of Truth collapses and dissolves around him, leaving only darkness.
And then come the dreams.
They're always different, always so vivid. An unfortunate consequence of an overly imaginative alchemist with ambition. This time it's Al - real Al, Al's body, frail and pitiful and starving, yet smiling at him-
"You'll come back, won't you? You won't leave me here again? It's been so long."
His soulless eyes are empty, yet somehow filled with an unbearable suffering at the same time. It's only been a few days for Ed, at most. How could Al endure years of that place, with only Truth and this same sense of loss to keep him company?
"Brother- why did you do this to me?"
Al, Al, Al, I didn't want-
"I can't go with you."
And Al's gone before Edward's hand can reach him, dissolving from view. Just like all the others.
"You're just running away."
He turns, expecting Hohenheim, but finds only the misshapen, slack-jawed remains of his human transmutation. Not his mother. It was never his mother.
"Why did you create me?"
There's a wrench in his chest as slimy, mangled fingers slide down his cheek.
"Why did you just watch me die?"
Gone, again. In the quiet, in the darkness, he can hear Truth laughing.
And soon after he wakes up, gasping, on the bed of an empty hospital room.]
...Didn't work...
[Once settled and no longer so disoriented (or so alone, for that matter) Edward manages to wriggle over to the bedside table and get his journal open and running. This would be so much easier if his automail was working...
But his automail had been destroyed. He knows that, he'd felt it happen. So Winry must be okay, if she was able to make him replacements. That also means that it's been at least - no, more than - three days since the failed transmutation. One thing at a time, though...]
I'm back. ...Is everyone okay? The transmutation, it didn't-
[....]
Winry? I can't move my automail.
...But that's impossible, isn't it?
He had plenty of time to debate the theory in his mind, at least. Whatever his body was in that place, it didn't need sleep. And as the hours passed into dull, empty silence, as his shouts and rants echoed back to his own ears, pointlessly, his only gain was a newfound clarity of what Al's nights must be like. If nothing else, this experience has given him an even greater incentive for getting Al's body back.
Nothing lasts forever, though, and eventually - he's not sure when or how long it's been - the simulated Gate of Truth collapses and dissolves around him, leaving only darkness.
And then come the dreams.
They're always different, always so vivid. An unfortunate consequence of an overly imaginative alchemist with ambition. This time it's Al - real Al, Al's body, frail and pitiful and starving, yet smiling at him-
"You'll come back, won't you? You won't leave me here again? It's been so long."
His soulless eyes are empty, yet somehow filled with an unbearable suffering at the same time. It's only been a few days for Ed, at most. How could Al endure years of that place, with only Truth and this same sense of loss to keep him company?
"Brother- why did you do this to me?"
Al, Al, Al, I didn't want-
"I can't go with you."
And Al's gone before Edward's hand can reach him, dissolving from view. Just like all the others.
"You're just running away."
He turns, expecting Hohenheim, but finds only the misshapen, slack-jawed remains of his human transmutation. Not his mother. It was never his mother.
"Why did you create me?"
There's a wrench in his chest as slimy, mangled fingers slide down his cheek.
"Why did you just watch me die?"
Gone, again. In the quiet, in the darkness, he can hear Truth laughing.
And soon after he wakes up, gasping, on the bed of an empty hospital room.]
...Didn't work...
[Once settled and no longer so disoriented (or so alone, for that matter) Edward manages to wriggle over to the bedside table and get his journal open and running. This would be so much easier if his automail was working...
But his automail had been destroyed. He knows that, he'd felt it happen. So Winry must be okay, if she was able to make him replacements. That also means that it's been at least - no, more than - three days since the failed transmutation. One thing at a time, though...]
I'm back. ...Is everyone okay? The transmutation, it didn't-
[....]
Winry? I can't move my automail.
[Action]
....Felt that, so it must've... [With a brief grimace, he flexes his automail fingers back and forth, getting a feel for the now-working limb. With that settled, he lifts his arm, moving it to check the rest of the joints. Yep, everything seems just fine.] ...Yeah, it's good. The arm's perfect like always.
[Action]
Maybe it's better I go ahead and do the leg too.
[Action]
He sits up, shifting further up on the bed and tossing aside the blanket completely, using both hands (it's so good to move again) to roll his shorts up and fit the leg back into position.]
You don't look all that happy about the idea. No offense, but I don't like the idea of a nervous amateur messing with my automail.
[Action]
I just didn't want it to be weird or anything. It's not like I usually go around messing with other guy's legs or anything.
[Action]
[Action]
[TWIST.]
[Action]
...Thanks, that helps.
[This is the second time he's owed Sokka for this. 8|; Better not make it a habit.]
[Action]
Don't mention it. So should I go ahead and hit you with a wrench for Winry's sake?
[Action]
What!? No!
[Action]
I hate when she does that.
[Action]
I'm still going to get it when she comes back anyway.
[Action]
[What a violent relationship.]
[Action]
[Action]
[Action]
[...Feels weird, the idea of having another mechanic. Even a temporary one
who probably couldn't fix a broken automail if his life depended on it.][Action]
[Winry hits him too. So it might not be a good idea.]
[Action]
[Action]
[Action]
[Action]
[Action]
[Action]
[Not that he thinks Ed will ever manage it, but there's no use getting himself killed for it.]
[Action]
[Action]
[Cuz... what else is there to say? He heads to the door.]