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;
He glances sidelong at the clapper monkey toy at the bedside table, then grimaces and turns back to Hiccup. Yeah, a lot worse.]
From what I've seen so far, the people here are pretty understanding about experiments.
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[Which is... his extremely fail way of trying to lighten the mood. Sorry, Hiccup.]
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Sure it--well, maybe not so much, when you, uh, put it like that.
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Sorry, sorry. [Even if it's true.]
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It's...alright. I'm used to it. I just won't try a career in public speaking, I think.
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[He's content to never be a public speaker, so he can sympathize.]
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Ahhh...yeah. Did I ever mention...my dad is kind of the chief of my tribe?
[And you know what that means when Stoick passes?]
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...Though Hiccup does have a point there.]
Chief... what, so you inherit the job someday?
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...That's...the general idea, yeah.
[Could he sound any more somber?]
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Well... you're not killing dragons anymore, right? And you helped change all that. That's a pretty good start.
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...Still. I'm not sure I'm exactly "viking chief" material. They're supposed to be, you know, intimidating. Another tribe could try to take over the island if they see even an inch of weakness.
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[He knows that Hiccup's worried about this, but to Ed, it seems like a pretty basic solution.]
Being small isn't a disadvantage unless you just give up.
[Take it from another little guy. ...Not that he'd ever say it.]
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That's...one solution, I guess.
[He sighs inwardly.] I know. It's just hard to think about that when I look at the type of guy my dad is.
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Let me guess. Big guy, good at everything, different priorities?
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Yep, that...pretty much sums it up. The ideal viking. A born leader. And I'm...pretty much not like him. At all.
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Sometimes it's better to be nothing like your father. Maybe you'll end up being the better man despite all that.
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Weeeell, I don't know about that...[Even with what he had done with the dragons, Hiccup still doubted that would win him success as a leader forever.]
..What's your family like?
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We're talking about you here, not me.
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Right. Never mind.
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...My brother's here in Luceti.
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Wait, really? What's his name?
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I'd like that. What's he like?
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...He... he wears a suit of armor, and he's really tall. But he's my younger brother, got it? Younger!
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