Waiting
Title: Waiting
Rating: PG at worse
Spoilers: 25 on
Characters: Zolf Kimbley, Maes Hughes
Notes: I couldn’t help but wonder what circumstances might be waiting for these boys if they ever managed to meet.
“You stole my clothes.”
What a unique greeting. He hadn’t even figured out where he was yet and already someone was trying to confuse him. Confusion wasn’t a state he was used to having, so this was particularly interesting. “What?”
“I said,” an unfamiliar face came around the corner, if anything here could count as that, yellow green eyes fixed on him, “that you stole my clothes.”
“I haven’t ever stolen any clothes. No point, someone always provides some.” He flexed his hands, sizing up the man before him with more than idle curiosity, though he paused at the fact that the now familiar sensation of having his hair short on top wasn’t as he remembered.
“Well, that belonged to me once. Not the undershirt, but the rest of it sure did. It doesn’t even fit you.” The man pushed his square framed glasses up his nose with a small smirk. “But I guess you must have some good times attached to it if you’re wearing it now.”
One branded hand moved to figure out what was up with his hair, though when his fingers touched it, he was a bit jarred to realize it was back in a ponytail, like from during the war. “What the fuck is going on?”
For the first time, the calm look of the man broke, and he actually looked a bit alarmed. “You mean you don’t know?”
“Would I have asked if I knew?” He pulled his ponytail around in front of his face and raised an eyebrow. Well, that was certainly one way to get his hair back into decent shape. Now, how it happened… And what about the damn clothes? He glanced to see that it was the outfit Greed had given him.
He was broken from further considerations when the slightly taller man broke out in a row of cursing. That hadn’t exactly been the sort of reply he was looking for. And people called him insane. With people like this one to live up to, just what the hell did they expect?
“Well?”
Green gold flicked back to him, finally, and the man took a deep breath, fingers running nervously through his short hair. “Yes, well. You and I are apparently going to get to know each other very well.”
Maybe he should just blow the man up. That always livened up the scenery, and this guy wasn’t being very helpful at the moment. He considered his palms for a moment. “Why’s that?”
“Because you don’t realize you’re dead.”
That took a few moments to process, then a small frown curled the alchemist’s lips. “Come again?”
“The only people here are dead people, but most people know they’re dead and are just visiting while they wait for their loved ones. You,” He pointed at him in clear accusation, “don’t realize you’re dead, but you came to me. That means you’re either waiting for one of the same people I am, or that I’m supposed to be waiting for you, and I have no idea who you are, so I imagine that one isn’t it.”
He tipped his head as he considered that, then looked around the place. “Then how would I get to figuring out how I died?”
“It’ll come to you, once you figure out what you’re doing here.”
“Figures. How’d you die then?” He moved over to the other man, taking in the black attire he was garbed in. He could be a bit sociable until he figured out what was going on.
“I was shot.” He shook his head, studying him as he offered him his hand. “Maes Hughes.”
He considered the hand for a moment before a slow smirk crossed his face. He should really see how the fireworks worked here… He took the hand without starting a charge, deciding to do it in a little while. “Zolf Kimbley.”
Again with the cursing. Was just everything about him perfect for that? It would be amusing if it was. “You’re here for Roy.”
Roy, Flame Alchemist Mustang Roy? “Why would I be here for Flame?” Why would he be anywhere for anyone for that matter? He hadn’t thought anyone had made that much of an impression.
“Because you didn’t know you were dead. Say that as your reason and see if anything comes to you.” He stared at Maes, and Maes stared back. Apparently there was no winning there. If it didn’t work, then at least he’d have proven someone wrong. It appealed to his sense of amusement.
“Alright. I’m here for Flame.” And… nothing. No singing angels, no choir, no churchy things or god. Still dead. Oh! Wait, that was what he was getting at, the entire dead thing. And checking revealed that he’d died by the hand of… the Ishbalite. At least he’d injured him fatally, that was something of a consolation.
“You are, aren’t you?” The flat tone sounded far less than enthusiastic.
He hadn’t the faintest why someone wouldn’t want to get friendly with him, he was wonderful at getting close to people. Though they didn’t tend to live long after, but that wasn’t really the point. “Seems to be so.”
“Well, sit down Kimbley. You can tell me all about why you weren’t here before me. With luck, we’ll be in for a long wait.” He arched an eyebrow at the dubious tone, then shrugged, deciding that it wasn’t a big deal. He’d never expected Flame to have a long life either.
He figured he’d humor the man… For the moment. Choice made, he settled in to give a brief explanation of the last few years.
Rating: PG at worse
Spoilers: 25 on
Characters: Zolf Kimbley, Maes Hughes
Notes: I couldn’t help but wonder what circumstances might be waiting for these boys if they ever managed to meet.
“You stole my clothes.”
What a unique greeting. He hadn’t even figured out where he was yet and already someone was trying to confuse him. Confusion wasn’t a state he was used to having, so this was particularly interesting. “What?”
“I said,” an unfamiliar face came around the corner, if anything here could count as that, yellow green eyes fixed on him, “that you stole my clothes.”
“I haven’t ever stolen any clothes. No point, someone always provides some.” He flexed his hands, sizing up the man before him with more than idle curiosity, though he paused at the fact that the now familiar sensation of having his hair short on top wasn’t as he remembered.
“Well, that belonged to me once. Not the undershirt, but the rest of it sure did. It doesn’t even fit you.” The man pushed his square framed glasses up his nose with a small smirk. “But I guess you must have some good times attached to it if you’re wearing it now.”
One branded hand moved to figure out what was up with his hair, though when his fingers touched it, he was a bit jarred to realize it was back in a ponytail, like from during the war. “What the fuck is going on?”
For the first time, the calm look of the man broke, and he actually looked a bit alarmed. “You mean you don’t know?”
“Would I have asked if I knew?” He pulled his ponytail around in front of his face and raised an eyebrow. Well, that was certainly one way to get his hair back into decent shape. Now, how it happened… And what about the damn clothes? He glanced to see that it was the outfit Greed had given him.
He was broken from further considerations when the slightly taller man broke out in a row of cursing. That hadn’t exactly been the sort of reply he was looking for. And people called him insane. With people like this one to live up to, just what the hell did they expect?
“Well?”
Green gold flicked back to him, finally, and the man took a deep breath, fingers running nervously through his short hair. “Yes, well. You and I are apparently going to get to know each other very well.”
Maybe he should just blow the man up. That always livened up the scenery, and this guy wasn’t being very helpful at the moment. He considered his palms for a moment. “Why’s that?”
“Because you don’t realize you’re dead.”
That took a few moments to process, then a small frown curled the alchemist’s lips. “Come again?”
“The only people here are dead people, but most people know they’re dead and are just visiting while they wait for their loved ones. You,” He pointed at him in clear accusation, “don’t realize you’re dead, but you came to me. That means you’re either waiting for one of the same people I am, or that I’m supposed to be waiting for you, and I have no idea who you are, so I imagine that one isn’t it.”
He tipped his head as he considered that, then looked around the place. “Then how would I get to figuring out how I died?”
“It’ll come to you, once you figure out what you’re doing here.”
“Figures. How’d you die then?” He moved over to the other man, taking in the black attire he was garbed in. He could be a bit sociable until he figured out what was going on.
“I was shot.” He shook his head, studying him as he offered him his hand. “Maes Hughes.”
He considered the hand for a moment before a slow smirk crossed his face. He should really see how the fireworks worked here… He took the hand without starting a charge, deciding to do it in a little while. “Zolf Kimbley.”
Again with the cursing. Was just everything about him perfect for that? It would be amusing if it was. “You’re here for Roy.”
Roy, Flame Alchemist Mustang Roy? “Why would I be here for Flame?” Why would he be anywhere for anyone for that matter? He hadn’t thought anyone had made that much of an impression.
“Because you didn’t know you were dead. Say that as your reason and see if anything comes to you.” He stared at Maes, and Maes stared back. Apparently there was no winning there. If it didn’t work, then at least he’d have proven someone wrong. It appealed to his sense of amusement.
“Alright. I’m here for Flame.” And… nothing. No singing angels, no choir, no churchy things or god. Still dead. Oh! Wait, that was what he was getting at, the entire dead thing. And checking revealed that he’d died by the hand of… the Ishbalite. At least he’d injured him fatally, that was something of a consolation.
“You are, aren’t you?” The flat tone sounded far less than enthusiastic.
He hadn’t the faintest why someone wouldn’t want to get friendly with him, he was wonderful at getting close to people. Though they didn’t tend to live long after, but that wasn’t really the point. “Seems to be so.”
“Well, sit down Kimbley. You can tell me all about why you weren’t here before me. With luck, we’ll be in for a long wait.” He arched an eyebrow at the dubious tone, then shrugged, deciding that it wasn’t a big deal. He’d never expected Flame to have a long life either.
He figured he’d humor the man… For the moment. Choice made, he settled in to give a brief explanation of the last few years.