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;
That's right. [wryly.] Got in a few days ago.
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Welcome to Luceti, I guess.
[Said in the same sort of tone with which one might be welcomed to the garbage dump.]
action;
Thanks. So...what is that? [gestures at his arm] That, I mean.
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It's called automail- a metal prosthetic.
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yeesh, though, that means he must've lost his entire arm at some point, and he looks
smalleryounger than she is.]Metal? So it's - what, kind of like a robot arm or something?
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You could call it that, if you have to.
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Sounds like your world's pretty advanced, with things like that.
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[Huh. Did Amestris just get lucky with their prosthetic research or something? Maybe it's because of Rush Valley.]
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[Rory might, but Rory's not here.]
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A whole city? Blimey. That sounds...dedicated.
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[Where they'll strip you down to your underwear just to get a look at your equipment.]
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An entire city full of mechanical geniuses. Guess you know where to go when your car breaks down.
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[Yes, they are that weird and picky. IT'S RIDICULOUS.]
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Choosy. So, you've got cars and automail. Nothing too primitive 'bout that, if you ask me.
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[staring at that bedside table, now.]
Is that a monkey?
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It's just a toy...
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[AMBLING OVER TO GET A BETTER LOOK AT IT AND POSSIBLY PICK IT UP.]
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I-it was a gift, just leave it alone!
[Poor Al. Bad enough he'll have to carry his brother home like that, now he's got people wanting to poke at him?
more than Ed already has]action;
Alright, alright, sorry, didn't know it was that important to you.
action;
I'm heading home. Are you done, or are you still exploring?
[Which... isn't exactly an invitation, but it's not a complete rejection, either. His version of an apology. It's not like he had to snap at her like that.]
action; *quietly sidles in here*
[Goes to follow after him, before adding wryly] Not like there's so much else to do 'round here.
action; TAKING YOUR SWEET TIME I SEE
action; OMG SHUT UP
action; /AWESOMEFACE
action; /BEATS UP
action; ;A; so cruel, I wasn't the late one
action; ... ;~;
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