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.
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