Automail
Short ficcy - load of rubbish but I did want it up. So yah.
Title: Automail
Category: Full Metal Alchemist
Characters: Edward Elric, OC
Warnings: None
Summary: Central station is always a bustle.
Words: 890
Automail
It was bitterly cold for a summer’s morning. Streets were heavy with rolling mist and the distant clacking of heels on cobbles. The sun was mid-way in the sky, peaking above a church steeple and peering through the layers of smog and failing to reach the pavements. They were dark and dank, a murky brown concoction of rain water and dirt brought in from the shoes of the many patrons that made their way into Central Station. Pools of litter gathered in the gutters, swept from the streets. It heaved and breathed on its own, shuffling into the sewers with the rats that stole the discarded rubbish. People either didn’t notice or didn’t care, as long as the streets seemed clean for the tourists and military that frequented the city. And so life went on in Central.
The boy, no older than sixteen, often watched life as it passed him by. He often set himself up out of the way of the common folk, preferring the shade and comfort of an abandoned doorway, where he could see all around the wide streets leading to the station. He had always agreed, that the station was the best place to watch people. All sorts of persons passed by, those who arrived, those who were leaving, those who simply enjoyed to rest on the wooden benches and admire the flowers, people who came to eat at the many restaurants that flourished in the area. Mostly, he liked to stay out of their way, but once or twice he had caught the eye of a passer-by who noticed his flaming red hair and green eyes; but they soon flushed and walked on by, not bothering to greet him.
That was fine, he was sure given the choice, he wouldn’t want to meet them either.
It was a Sunday morning, and he watched as he usually did - from the same spot he always sat in. It had promised to be a normal day, until he saw it.
A suit of armour - near seven foot high. Now, although Central was a salad bowl of cultures, he had never seen something like this. So he watched them as they alighted the train, headed east through the marble archway and onto the streets. There were two of them - one tall, one short. It was the short one that had caught his eye, there had been a glimmer of something - something that interested him. But they didn't look his way even once and he was too low on the ground to get a better look. They too, moved on.
An age passed - at least in the summer's sturpor it felt like an age, it had really only been a week or so - until he caught a glimpse of them again. He was still in his old spot, no one else ever bothered him there and he was happy to occupy the space. It was late afternoon - the station had been busy, trains had pulled in and out all day and in the scorching afternoon - nothing seemed to be stopping that.
His mouth was dreadfully dry, but he was feeling too lazy to drag himself to find any - usually the condensation on the old metal door at night was enough to cool him down. It was a struggle to stay awake, the heat and the gentle lull of the station were enough to send anyone to sleep - but his stomach pained him and the smell of fresh buns kept him aware. The air was sweet with the aroma of food, filled with the sound of people enjoying it. He shuffled uneasily - catching the eye of the the Crepe stand guy for a moment. The burly elder bristled, and ignored him.
“Tch.”
He was lost within himself when he saw them. One tall, one short. They were waiting for a train, not ten foot from where he sat. They had their back to the red headed boy, had not seen him - or if they had made no indication of it. Red sleeves were hiked up to elbows. One of them metal.
Metal! He gasped, jolsting himself forward with so much force he unbalanced himself. Metal Limbs!
Excitedly, he shuffled closer - ignoring those who were trying to pass by and forcing them to jump out of the way. At that moment he didnt care - he was gaining on them - little by little.
A whistle blew - and both of them stood.
Wait. Boy begged. Just turn around.
Although he didn't believe in god, he thanked one when they turned slightly - prayed to one when they caught him in the corner of their eye.
Edward Elric doubled around, mouth open at the sight behind him. A boy, perhaps twelve or thirteen years old - staring at him in desperation - his body flush to the ground, crawling. A moment later it was clear why - the only limb the boy had was a left arm - which he was using to pull himself across the ground towards the two brothers.
“Wait.” The boy cried, using stumps to propel him across the ground. “You have Automail.”
Brothers were silent - uneasy and unsure.
The whistle blew again.
Edward didn't wait.
Boy didn't blame him.
Title: Automail
Category: Full Metal Alchemist
Characters: Edward Elric, OC
Warnings: None
Summary: Central station is always a bustle.
Words: 890
Automail
It was bitterly cold for a summer’s morning. Streets were heavy with rolling mist and the distant clacking of heels on cobbles. The sun was mid-way in the sky, peaking above a church steeple and peering through the layers of smog and failing to reach the pavements. They were dark and dank, a murky brown concoction of rain water and dirt brought in from the shoes of the many patrons that made their way into Central Station. Pools of litter gathered in the gutters, swept from the streets. It heaved and breathed on its own, shuffling into the sewers with the rats that stole the discarded rubbish. People either didn’t notice or didn’t care, as long as the streets seemed clean for the tourists and military that frequented the city. And so life went on in Central.
The boy, no older than sixteen, often watched life as it passed him by. He often set himself up out of the way of the common folk, preferring the shade and comfort of an abandoned doorway, where he could see all around the wide streets leading to the station. He had always agreed, that the station was the best place to watch people. All sorts of persons passed by, those who arrived, those who were leaving, those who simply enjoyed to rest on the wooden benches and admire the flowers, people who came to eat at the many restaurants that flourished in the area. Mostly, he liked to stay out of their way, but once or twice he had caught the eye of a passer-by who noticed his flaming red hair and green eyes; but they soon flushed and walked on by, not bothering to greet him.
That was fine, he was sure given the choice, he wouldn’t want to meet them either.
It was a Sunday morning, and he watched as he usually did - from the same spot he always sat in. It had promised to be a normal day, until he saw it.
A suit of armour - near seven foot high. Now, although Central was a salad bowl of cultures, he had never seen something like this. So he watched them as they alighted the train, headed east through the marble archway and onto the streets. There were two of them - one tall, one short. It was the short one that had caught his eye, there had been a glimmer of something - something that interested him. But they didn't look his way even once and he was too low on the ground to get a better look. They too, moved on.
An age passed - at least in the summer's sturpor it felt like an age, it had really only been a week or so - until he caught a glimpse of them again. He was still in his old spot, no one else ever bothered him there and he was happy to occupy the space. It was late afternoon - the station had been busy, trains had pulled in and out all day and in the scorching afternoon - nothing seemed to be stopping that.
His mouth was dreadfully dry, but he was feeling too lazy to drag himself to find any - usually the condensation on the old metal door at night was enough to cool him down. It was a struggle to stay awake, the heat and the gentle lull of the station were enough to send anyone to sleep - but his stomach pained him and the smell of fresh buns kept him aware. The air was sweet with the aroma of food, filled with the sound of people enjoying it. He shuffled uneasily - catching the eye of the the Crepe stand guy for a moment. The burly elder bristled, and ignored him.
“Tch.”
He was lost within himself when he saw them. One tall, one short. They were waiting for a train, not ten foot from where he sat. They had their back to the red headed boy, had not seen him - or if they had made no indication of it. Red sleeves were hiked up to elbows. One of them metal.
Metal! He gasped, jolsting himself forward with so much force he unbalanced himself. Metal Limbs!
Excitedly, he shuffled closer - ignoring those who were trying to pass by and forcing them to jump out of the way. At that moment he didnt care - he was gaining on them - little by little.
A whistle blew - and both of them stood.
Wait. Boy begged. Just turn around.
Although he didn't believe in god, he thanked one when they turned slightly - prayed to one when they caught him in the corner of their eye.
Edward Elric doubled around, mouth open at the sight behind him. A boy, perhaps twelve or thirteen years old - staring at him in desperation - his body flush to the ground, crawling. A moment later it was clear why - the only limb the boy had was a left arm - which he was using to pull himself across the ground towards the two brothers.
“Wait.” The boy cried, using stumps to propel him across the ground. “You have Automail.”
Brothers were silent - uneasy and unsure.
The whistle blew again.
Edward didn't wait.
Boy didn't blame him.