Though no one will Read this...
Due to an odd ongoing RP with my fiance and I, there started today what may very well be a small joint fic. Not sure though... However, I'll post the beginning, done by me, here..... Keep in mind this was written right after I woke up this morning, and was written fairly hurriedly, since I was late for school. >>;;
Title: The Truth Is... [The End of the World is Also the Beginning]
Rating: ?PG? (not sure yet)
Genre: ?Romance/Angst? (not sure yet)
Pairing: Elricest
Warning: WIP, everything subject to change, or not get finished.
Alphonse Elric sighed and readied himself for the apocalypse, straightening his shirt, righting strands of hair, and crushing a cigarette out under his boot. This was it. This was all. This was nothing. He could do this. He was terrified.
Shaking himself back to reality again, he strode over to one of the many sinks to be found in the communal bathroom at Michi's, turning on the faucet and dipping his hands in the water to wash from his face any traces there may be of sweat, grime, or tears. After another shaky sigh, he dropped his hands, rubbing them dry on the bottom of his shirt, and inspected himself in the mirror.
Wide grey eyes stared back at him, eyes that broadcast innocence and goodwill that had been trained and practiced since there were no eyes there at all. These eyes, with faint traces of hidden, deeper, less happy thoughts, were set in a face that still looked fairly young for it's proposed fifteen year age. Alphonse blinked slowly, watching his reflection in the mirror do the same, wondering at the face that was supposedly his, this face that he was still not yet used to, surrounded by hair that eerily copied a style so familiar, yet not quite right. He had to close his eyes for a moment, blocking out the sight of this strange boy that he was, going back to the familiar blankness, imitating the empty nothingness he had grown so used to. He had to think.
Absently, he reached a hand back to touch the the symbol that had been placed on his back, the only spot to mar the body that was -- almost -- the result of nearly five years worth of scars carried by his brother. His eyes refocussed on the mirror, and he was almost surprised to catch himself smiling, slightly morbidly, at the thought that no matter what, his brother would always be the one with the scars, and no matter what, the only thing that would hold him to himself, remind him who and where he was, would end up being a small red mark placed on him by an Edward, symbolizing his devotion, blind faith, and love for his brother.
It was time to go.
Pulling himself away from the mirror, each step towards the door -- towards his doom -- feeling more leaden than when his legs had truly been made of iron. He had planned everything he wanted to say, thinking out as many different possible scenarios as there was chance for them to happen, even including the minute possibility of alien abduction -- Which, right now, would suit him just fine.
After a short walk that wasn't remembered, he found himself once again facing a gate into oblivion, though not the one he might have preferred. Facing his brother's door, all of his planned words and strategies were forgotten. It was all he could do to focus himself enough on the thought that he could not run, that he had to stay, to do this. Why? He couldn't remember, but it had to be done.
Shakilly, he raised his hand, and wondered if the world would crash down when he knocked.
[Note: Due to the odd mentality that exists with me and the people I RP with, some things referred to may be confusing, but so far there isn't anything that would require much concern. But, if this is continued, and there are references that need explaining, I'll make extra notes to explain them.]
Title: The Truth Is... [The End of the World is Also the Beginning]
Rating: ?PG? (not sure yet)
Genre: ?Romance/Angst? (not sure yet)
Pairing: Elricest
Warning: WIP, everything subject to change, or not get finished.
Alphonse Elric sighed and readied himself for the apocalypse, straightening his shirt, righting strands of hair, and crushing a cigarette out under his boot. This was it. This was all. This was nothing. He could do this. He was terrified.
Shaking himself back to reality again, he strode over to one of the many sinks to be found in the communal bathroom at Michi's, turning on the faucet and dipping his hands in the water to wash from his face any traces there may be of sweat, grime, or tears. After another shaky sigh, he dropped his hands, rubbing them dry on the bottom of his shirt, and inspected himself in the mirror.
Wide grey eyes stared back at him, eyes that broadcast innocence and goodwill that had been trained and practiced since there were no eyes there at all. These eyes, with faint traces of hidden, deeper, less happy thoughts, were set in a face that still looked fairly young for it's proposed fifteen year age. Alphonse blinked slowly, watching his reflection in the mirror do the same, wondering at the face that was supposedly his, this face that he was still not yet used to, surrounded by hair that eerily copied a style so familiar, yet not quite right. He had to close his eyes for a moment, blocking out the sight of this strange boy that he was, going back to the familiar blankness, imitating the empty nothingness he had grown so used to. He had to think.
Absently, he reached a hand back to touch the the symbol that had been placed on his back, the only spot to mar the body that was -- almost -- the result of nearly five years worth of scars carried by his brother. His eyes refocussed on the mirror, and he was almost surprised to catch himself smiling, slightly morbidly, at the thought that no matter what, his brother would always be the one with the scars, and no matter what, the only thing that would hold him to himself, remind him who and where he was, would end up being a small red mark placed on him by an Edward, symbolizing his devotion, blind faith, and love for his brother.
It was time to go.
Pulling himself away from the mirror, each step towards the door -- towards his doom -- feeling more leaden than when his legs had truly been made of iron. He had planned everything he wanted to say, thinking out as many different possible scenarios as there was chance for them to happen, even including the minute possibility of alien abduction -- Which, right now, would suit him just fine.
After a short walk that wasn't remembered, he found himself once again facing a gate into oblivion, though not the one he might have preferred. Facing his brother's door, all of his planned words and strategies were forgotten. It was all he could do to focus himself enough on the thought that he could not run, that he had to stay, to do this. Why? He couldn't remember, but it had to be done.
Shakilly, he raised his hand, and wondered if the world would crash down when he knocked.
[Note: Due to the odd mentality that exists with me and the people I RP with, some things referred to may be confusing, but so far there isn't anything that would require much concern. But, if this is continued, and there are references that need explaining, I'll make extra notes to explain them.]