The Oak and Birch, 021, Dante/Izumi
Title: The Oak and Birch
Author: theladyfeylene
Fandom: FMA
Pairing: Dante/Izumi
Rating: PG
Prompt: 021, learning
Spoilers: Full series
Word Count: 918
Summary: Dante kept trees for a reason. People grew old and died, but trees remained.
“Do you know why I keep trees?”
“Do I care?”
Dante only smiled, the soft dirt clinging to her knees and her fingers as she dug into the earth. She couldn’t expect Envy to understand. He didn't care about anything, and certainly nothing that was alive.
“People are like trees,” she said, gesturing for the homunculus to bring her the sapling she intended to plant. Envy groaned and rolled his eyes, dragging his heels as he hauled over the sapling.
“People are like trees,” he repeated, in a tone that seemed to convey the silent question ‘have you been drinking, mother?’. She chuckled, softly, and maneuvered the sapling into place before answering his question.
“They are. Take you for example. You’re an alder tree. The tree of visions and secrecy, brutal honesty and hidden truths, symbol of both fire and water. It forever craves water, yet can never satisfy itself. The alder tree lives a very long time, but despite it’s long life takes longer than any other tree in the forest to mature.” Dante cast a sly look to her sinful son, her words carefully needling. He only glared back, arms folded.
“Uh-huh.” He dropped to the ground, legs folded up under him. He was in a humoring mood, it seemed. “And what about you?”
“I’m a birch. The tree that sheds its skin each year, a constant rebirth. It’s an elegant tree, symbolizing wisdom and purity and the path of the right. It teaches us that the past must be cast aside, that we must always look to the future. You would do well to pay attention to what the birch teaches, Envy. You allow yourself to be ruled by the past.”
He only shrugged. It was sometimes ridiculously difficult to speak to him, the more detached he became from humanity. She had no alder tree, she didn't need it. Envy would be there long after the orchard had fallen. But trees lasted longer than people, and there were those that she wished to remember. For every girl that had ever caught her eye, there was a tree. A living monument to human beauty - so fleeting, and so captivating.
“So what are you planting, anyway?”
“This is an oak.” Dante stroked the still-smooth bark of the sapling, running her palms along its length. “One of the strongest trees. It stands tall and proud, weathering the years with a stubbornness and determination that evokes awe. It will endure long after the other trees have gone, drawing strength from the ground and spreading its branches to protect and offer succor. But the willow is still stronger, because the oak, for all it’s dark and towering majesty, does not bend.” There was a sudden soft tone in Dante’s voice as she caressed the sapling, her eyes cast to the ground.
“…right.”
“Oh, go busy yourself somewhere else. You’re tiring me.” Dante waved Envy away and began to press dirt around the base of the sapling. So strong and mighty the oak, but so stubborn. Unrelenting, resisting all guidance and standing immobile in the face of adversary. The oak’s strength would be its folly.
“You’ll learn someday,” Dante said, softly, and she cast her eyes to the house behind her, to the shuttered windows of her apprentice’s room. Her own beautiful little oak sapling, so strong and full of rage and self righteousness. So unyielding. Well, Izumi would learn the truth of the world, one way or another. Dante sighed and returned to her work, fingers that were just beginning to feel the twinge of arthritis slipping once more into the soft dirt.
“What doesn’t bend is broken.”
Author: theladyfeylene
Fandom: FMA
Pairing: Dante/Izumi
Rating: PG
Prompt: 021, learning
Spoilers: Full series
Word Count: 918
Summary: Dante kept trees for a reason. People grew old and died, but trees remained.
“Do you know why I keep trees?”
“Do I care?”
Dante only smiled, the soft dirt clinging to her knees and her fingers as she dug into the earth. She couldn’t expect Envy to understand. He didn't care about anything, and certainly nothing that was alive.
“People are like trees,” she said, gesturing for the homunculus to bring her the sapling she intended to plant. Envy groaned and rolled his eyes, dragging his heels as he hauled over the sapling.
“People are like trees,” he repeated, in a tone that seemed to convey the silent question ‘have you been drinking, mother?’. She chuckled, softly, and maneuvered the sapling into place before answering his question.
“They are. Take you for example. You’re an alder tree. The tree of visions and secrecy, brutal honesty and hidden truths, symbol of both fire and water. It forever craves water, yet can never satisfy itself. The alder tree lives a very long time, but despite it’s long life takes longer than any other tree in the forest to mature.” Dante cast a sly look to her sinful son, her words carefully needling. He only glared back, arms folded.
“Uh-huh.” He dropped to the ground, legs folded up under him. He was in a humoring mood, it seemed. “And what about you?”
“I’m a birch. The tree that sheds its skin each year, a constant rebirth. It’s an elegant tree, symbolizing wisdom and purity and the path of the right. It teaches us that the past must be cast aside, that we must always look to the future. You would do well to pay attention to what the birch teaches, Envy. You allow yourself to be ruled by the past.”
He only shrugged. It was sometimes ridiculously difficult to speak to him, the more detached he became from humanity. She had no alder tree, she didn't need it. Envy would be there long after the orchard had fallen. But trees lasted longer than people, and there were those that she wished to remember. For every girl that had ever caught her eye, there was a tree. A living monument to human beauty - so fleeting, and so captivating.
“So what are you planting, anyway?”
“This is an oak.” Dante stroked the still-smooth bark of the sapling, running her palms along its length. “One of the strongest trees. It stands tall and proud, weathering the years with a stubbornness and determination that evokes awe. It will endure long after the other trees have gone, drawing strength from the ground and spreading its branches to protect and offer succor. But the willow is still stronger, because the oak, for all it’s dark and towering majesty, does not bend.” There was a sudden soft tone in Dante’s voice as she caressed the sapling, her eyes cast to the ground.
“…right.”
“Oh, go busy yourself somewhere else. You’re tiring me.” Dante waved Envy away and began to press dirt around the base of the sapling. So strong and mighty the oak, but so stubborn. Unrelenting, resisting all guidance and standing immobile in the face of adversary. The oak’s strength would be its folly.
“You’ll learn someday,” Dante said, softly, and she cast her eyes to the house behind her, to the shuttered windows of her apprentice’s room. Her own beautiful little oak sapling, so strong and full of rage and self righteousness. So unyielding. Well, Izumi would learn the truth of the world, one way or another. Dante sighed and returned to her work, fingers that were just beginning to feel the twinge of arthritis slipping once more into the soft dirt.
“What doesn’t bend is broken.”