automailed | [Action /Voice]

Entry tags:

[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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Amy had gotten bored. This meant? It was high time to go exploring. And today's target was the Battle Dome. Of course, she wasn't all that interested in battling and had quickly gotten bored of all the buttons and machine-y things and mechanical-y bits. So she'd ended up wandering, 'till she lost track of where she even quite was within the dome and mostly opening doors.

Which was how she'd ended up at this door. She'd taken a step inside before realizing - ]

Ooh, God, there's a person in here.

Edited 2011-07-13 06:19 (UTC)

[Edward is caught in the middle of some extensive stretching to make sure everything is in good working order, so the stranger at the door caught him in the awkward position of FULL EXPOSURE. As in he has no shirt and no jacket to cover up those limbs that he'd rather have covered, thanks. Oops.

...Okay, PLAY IT COOL. This is totally not awkward at all, yep.]

Are you lost?

[Her eyes are maybe a little wider than they would be for a moment there, but you know shirtlessness whatever whatever. She definitely gets an eyeful of the metal limbs, though.]

I was just looking around. You can do that 'round here, can't you?

[The way she says it, it's almost not a question; not being allowed to wouldn't exactly stop her.

Also she's kind of contemplating if you're a robot or not Edward. Look, she met a really nice one once, meant to have tea with him, never quite got a chance to thank you Doctor, so she wouldn't hold against you or anything.]

[Since she's not backpedaling and leaving immediately, he grabs his shirt from the bed to button up.]

Yeah, you can. It's not like the door was locked or anything.

[Truth be told he was thinking about leaving, he just wanted to make sure his body was in top form.]

[She'll take that as an invitation to keep talking |D]

Didn't know there was a hospital in here. Seems like kind of a strange choice, doesn't it, since it's a battle dome and all. [The name has an inflection of something like well if that's what it's called, awfully important-sounding isn't it] Then again, it's not a bad idea. Don't suppose a lot of people get hurt in here, but it's good to be prepared, yeah?

[She's taking a look at the room at large much more than Edward at this point.]

[He doesn't mind, that's for sure; most of the time the attention that automail gets him is just a big hassle. He should've asked Hiccup to pick him up some gloves.]

I haven't really used it yet, but it looks like I was taken care of while I was here, so it must be a decent clinic.

[That's kind of a funny way of putting it, like he doesn't remember or know]

What happened?

....An accident. [And if you're looking for a full explanation, look elsewhere, because that's all he's going to say. Moving on.] You're new here, right?

[BORING.]

That's right. [wryly.] Got in a few days ago.

[Hrm. OH THE DAYS OF BEING A NEWCOMER. Ed hardly looks thrilled, though.]

Welcome to Luceti, I guess.

[Said in the same sort of tone with which one might be welcomed to the garbage dump.]

[raises her eyebrows sardonically]

Thanks. So...what is that? [gestures at his arm] That, I mean.

[Ahaha, figures. It was probably only a matter of time, anyway.]

It's called automail- a metal prosthetic.

[yeeeeeeeeeep

yeesh, though, that means he must've lost his entire arm at some point, and he looks ~~smaller~~ younger than she is.]

Metal? So it's - what, kind of like a robot arm or something?

[...Robot...]

You could call it that, if you have to.

[there is nothing wrong with robots!]

Sounds like your world's pretty advanced, with things like that.

Advanced enough, I guess. Though people around here would call it primitive, I've heard.

I dunno, metal...arm...things seem advanced to me.

You don't have anything like automail where you're from either?

[Huh. Did Amestris just get lucky with their prosthetic research or something? Maybe it's because of Rush Valley.]

Nope. Nothing made out of metal, anyway. We've got - plastics and stuff, I guess. Don't know too much about it.

[Rory might, but Rory's not here.]

Edited 2011-07-18 04:49 (UTC)

It's normal in my country. There's even a city devoted to the research. [And it's full of insane machine freaks. Most terrifying city ever.]

[she makes an appreciative, impressed kind of sound]

A whole city? Blimey. That sounds...dedicated.

...You have no idea.

[Where they'll strip you down to your underwear just to get a look at your equipment.]

[she laughs]

An entire city full of mechanical geniuses. Guess you know where to go when your car breaks down.

They wouldn't be interested in cars, they're not automail.

[Yes, they are that weird and picky. IT'S RIDICULOUS.]

[OH WOW OKAY.]

Choosy. So, you've got cars and automail. Nothing too primitive 'bout that, if you ask me.

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;