Fullmetal Alchemist: Envy/Winry Challenge: #3
Title: My Tormentor.
Author/Artist: Emely
Pairing: Envy/Winry
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Theme: #3 jolt!
Disclaimer: Envy, Winry and all other mentioned characters and property of Hiromu Arakawa. The last line is a quote from Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte.
My Tormentor.
If she hadn't thought to put her head between her knees, she'd probably be spewing her guts all over the ground right. Even now, Winry was desperately trying to fight down the urge not to just regurgitate right then and there. It spoke much of the deep feeling of nausea she was feeling at the moment. It took a lot to unsettle the tough country girl, but she especially didn't like doing something so disgusting, such a human thing in front of him. There was still many times when she wondered how he had managed to overcome his deep hatred for humankind enough to be around her, much more like her, and even more so....
Did he though? After what had just transpired it was a little easier to believe now but she rather not have witnessed the proof for it. It made his nature all the more difficult for her to ignore, it made all the things wrong with this 'relationship' of theirs difficult to shrug off. Could it even be called that? Whatever it was, she enjoyed it even if it wasn't what she wanted it to be. But however much she enjoyed it, it was stupid, dangerous, and in a way traitorous to those she cared for very much and those who cared for her very much.
Strong, blood-stained hands grabbed her shoulders and unwillingly forced her up into a sitting position. A tiny whimper of protest escaped her mouth and she tried to pull herself back down but it was a useless effort. There was a moment there, she was uncertain how long, in which he just held her shaking body up by her forearms. The blonde still refused to open her eyes, shutting them tightly and pursing her lips to prevent both tears and cries to escape.
"Winry." His tone was tight; barely suppressed anger was threatening to break through.
The girl shook her head for no apparent reason. Her eyes refused to open.
"Winry," he called again, forcing his tone to soften. Finally, slowly her eyes opened and with it some tears freed themselves. Blue met violet. While hers were bright and wide his nearly seemed to be broiling over and narrowed. Even though she knew it wasn't aimed at her, the look was still so intense and frightening that she had to look away.
Bad move.
He was the only thing that was distracting her from the horrible scene in the ally. Four bodies were scattered about. Not a single one intact. Arms, legs, everything seemed to be grotesquely mangled: bending in places they shouldn't, mouths open in silent screams. Death had been a constant in Winry's life. Her parent's had died early in her life, Hughes had too, recently Pinako passed away. She was constantly worried for the safety of her brothers and had developed a phobia of the phone. In the automail business it wasn't rare to lose some. It was a dangerous operation and often times there was the soul who pushed themselves just a little too hard. It wasn’t easy to shoulder, but it had become something she'd learn to accept. However, never before had she seen someone killed right before her eyes. No, they hadn't been killed. They'd been slaughtered. Again sickness overwhelmed her and she began twisting and turning against his grip. He let her go and she backed away, unaware of him, herself, her surroundings. Of everything except the disturbing massacre before her.
"W-why." It wasn't quite a question and it wasn't directed at anyone. Simply a coincidentally appropriate word that had managed its way out of her mouth. No matter how much she clutched at her head to try and steady it enough to get her mind around what she was seeing, it wasn't enough. Her locks kept slipping away when they usually seemed cooperative enough to let her give a small tug of frustration in the past. Why did that source of relief seem so determined to escape her? Somewhere in the back of Winry's mind she knew her thoughts were completely absurd and incoherent. Right now though, her mind was a swirl of violent images and the distraught for the lack of any means of comfort.
Her foot suddenly stepped on something wet and like her hair, her feet slipped from beneath her. Before she could even begin to fall however, there were arms around her: steadying her. This confused the girl until she turned and tilted her head upwards. She'd completely forgotten that Envy was here. For a moment complete relief and a rare appearance of utter adoration crossed her features before it came crashing down on her that he was the one who had caused all this.
"You didn't have to kill them!" If her voice weren't so hoarse it'd have been a scream. Her struggles were renewed and as feverous as ever but he didn't let her go this time.
"Winry. Do you even know what they were going to do to you?" he asked voice still shuddering as he tried his very best not to be swallowed by anger. There also seemed to be a hint of incredulism in it.
Of course she knew. The way she'd been shoved up against the wall, the way their hands hard torn at her clothes and sour lips had been crushed to hers. It had been obvious. Though at the time when thought the act would be inevitable she had wished that they'd go away or die she hadn't actually thought that her wishes would be answered.
For a moment the only thing that managed to come out her of knotted throat was a raspy sound. A few seconds later found she found her voice though, and she asked her question again: "Why did you have to kill them? You could just have knocked them out, or, or just taken me away!"
Again his eyes narrowed in that dangerous manner. "Why does it matter? They were going to hurt you."
Once more Winry couldn't quite find a response to that. He had no regrets, that much was obvious. Envy was a killer, and he even enjoyed his work as one. Up until now she'd somehow managed to deny that. She'd never actually seem him kill someone before. Now it was impossible, and it hit her like a jolt of electricity that now she had to live with the fact that the person she loved was a monster.
Her shoulders were wracked with sobs now. Never before had she so blatantly cried in front of Envy. He'd always found crying a truly pathetic act. Much too emotional, much too weak, and often times messy. He'd always hated witnessing it; it was as if they expected to be comforted. But seeing her there with her face buried in her hands made him want to do just that. Unfortunately, he had no idea how to do that. All he could do was stare. Though he didn't regret his actions, and would do it again if given the chance he didn't want to see her hurt this way. What the sin still couldn't understand was just why she was crying, why did it matter how he saved her as long as he did it? To cry over a stranger, more so ones that had tried to rape her was something he could not get. No matter what he did it always seemed to end up hurting her and in turn him more so. No matter what happened between them it would always end in tragedy. Perhaps if he could see who she was truly crying for things wouldn't be so difficult, but things were as such. They hurt each other in ways no one else ever had, and ever could.
"You were born to be my tormentor." he whispered as the girl clawed at her tears.
Author/Artist: Emely
Pairing: Envy/Winry
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Theme: #3 jolt!
Disclaimer: Envy, Winry and all other mentioned characters and property of Hiromu Arakawa. The last line is a quote from Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte.
My Tormentor.
If she hadn't thought to put her head between her knees, she'd probably be spewing her guts all over the ground right. Even now, Winry was desperately trying to fight down the urge not to just regurgitate right then and there. It spoke much of the deep feeling of nausea she was feeling at the moment. It took a lot to unsettle the tough country girl, but she especially didn't like doing something so disgusting, such a human thing in front of him. There was still many times when she wondered how he had managed to overcome his deep hatred for humankind enough to be around her, much more like her, and even more so....
Did he though? After what had just transpired it was a little easier to believe now but she rather not have witnessed the proof for it. It made his nature all the more difficult for her to ignore, it made all the things wrong with this 'relationship' of theirs difficult to shrug off. Could it even be called that? Whatever it was, she enjoyed it even if it wasn't what she wanted it to be. But however much she enjoyed it, it was stupid, dangerous, and in a way traitorous to those she cared for very much and those who cared for her very much.
Strong, blood-stained hands grabbed her shoulders and unwillingly forced her up into a sitting position. A tiny whimper of protest escaped her mouth and she tried to pull herself back down but it was a useless effort. There was a moment there, she was uncertain how long, in which he just held her shaking body up by her forearms. The blonde still refused to open her eyes, shutting them tightly and pursing her lips to prevent both tears and cries to escape.
"Winry." His tone was tight; barely suppressed anger was threatening to break through.
The girl shook her head for no apparent reason. Her eyes refused to open.
"Winry," he called again, forcing his tone to soften. Finally, slowly her eyes opened and with it some tears freed themselves. Blue met violet. While hers were bright and wide his nearly seemed to be broiling over and narrowed. Even though she knew it wasn't aimed at her, the look was still so intense and frightening that she had to look away.
Bad move.
He was the only thing that was distracting her from the horrible scene in the ally. Four bodies were scattered about. Not a single one intact. Arms, legs, everything seemed to be grotesquely mangled: bending in places they shouldn't, mouths open in silent screams. Death had been a constant in Winry's life. Her parent's had died early in her life, Hughes had too, recently Pinako passed away. She was constantly worried for the safety of her brothers and had developed a phobia of the phone. In the automail business it wasn't rare to lose some. It was a dangerous operation and often times there was the soul who pushed themselves just a little too hard. It wasn’t easy to shoulder, but it had become something she'd learn to accept. However, never before had she seen someone killed right before her eyes. No, they hadn't been killed. They'd been slaughtered. Again sickness overwhelmed her and she began twisting and turning against his grip. He let her go and she backed away, unaware of him, herself, her surroundings. Of everything except the disturbing massacre before her.
"W-why." It wasn't quite a question and it wasn't directed at anyone. Simply a coincidentally appropriate word that had managed its way out of her mouth. No matter how much she clutched at her head to try and steady it enough to get her mind around what she was seeing, it wasn't enough. Her locks kept slipping away when they usually seemed cooperative enough to let her give a small tug of frustration in the past. Why did that source of relief seem so determined to escape her? Somewhere in the back of Winry's mind she knew her thoughts were completely absurd and incoherent. Right now though, her mind was a swirl of violent images and the distraught for the lack of any means of comfort.
Her foot suddenly stepped on something wet and like her hair, her feet slipped from beneath her. Before she could even begin to fall however, there were arms around her: steadying her. This confused the girl until she turned and tilted her head upwards. She'd completely forgotten that Envy was here. For a moment complete relief and a rare appearance of utter adoration crossed her features before it came crashing down on her that he was the one who had caused all this.
"You didn't have to kill them!" If her voice weren't so hoarse it'd have been a scream. Her struggles were renewed and as feverous as ever but he didn't let her go this time.
"Winry. Do you even know what they were going to do to you?" he asked voice still shuddering as he tried his very best not to be swallowed by anger. There also seemed to be a hint of incredulism in it.
Of course she knew. The way she'd been shoved up against the wall, the way their hands hard torn at her clothes and sour lips had been crushed to hers. It had been obvious. Though at the time when thought the act would be inevitable she had wished that they'd go away or die she hadn't actually thought that her wishes would be answered.
For a moment the only thing that managed to come out her of knotted throat was a raspy sound. A few seconds later found she found her voice though, and she asked her question again: "Why did you have to kill them? You could just have knocked them out, or, or just taken me away!"
Again his eyes narrowed in that dangerous manner. "Why does it matter? They were going to hurt you."
Once more Winry couldn't quite find a response to that. He had no regrets, that much was obvious. Envy was a killer, and he even enjoyed his work as one. Up until now she'd somehow managed to deny that. She'd never actually seem him kill someone before. Now it was impossible, and it hit her like a jolt of electricity that now she had to live with the fact that the person she loved was a monster.
Her shoulders were wracked with sobs now. Never before had she so blatantly cried in front of Envy. He'd always found crying a truly pathetic act. Much too emotional, much too weak, and often times messy. He'd always hated witnessing it; it was as if they expected to be comforted. But seeing her there with her face buried in her hands made him want to do just that. Unfortunately, he had no idea how to do that. All he could do was stare. Though he didn't regret his actions, and would do it again if given the chance he didn't want to see her hurt this way. What the sin still couldn't understand was just why she was crying, why did it matter how he saved her as long as he did it? To cry over a stranger, more so ones that had tried to rape her was something he could not get. No matter what he did it always seemed to end up hurting her and in turn him more so. No matter what happened between them it would always end in tragedy. Perhaps if he could see who she was truly crying for things wouldn't be so difficult, but things were as such. They hurt each other in ways no one else ever had, and ever could.
"You were born to be my tormentor." he whispered as the girl clawed at her tears.