(no subject)
i. roma
She tells him that she can see his home, and he finds that he can do nothing but believe her.
Edward Elric has spent far too many years of his life in suspicion for this, that much is true. He trusts far and few between, and in most cases, it’s taken years to build this trust. For him to automatically believe in something someone has told him - let alone something that defies logic and science to such an extent - it’s unthinkable. But despite this, he’s drawn to it anyway. Drawn to her. For once, he finds that he can allow himself to rely on the unknown, to find it comforting. For once, he’s able to surrender himself.
‘She may be able to fool you and Alfons,’ Hughes’ double had told him, the contempt obvious in his voice, ‘But they fool men and steal their wallets. They are, after all, drifters.’
‘I’m a drifter, too,’ Edward had informed him, and it was exactly right. What little home he clung to had been lost to him years ago, and it was never going to come back. The Bar had served as a substitute sometimes, armour to hide a gaping wound. But it hadn’t been enough, just like Alfons would never be enough.
Maybe that was the point of this, in the end. Maybe he hoped that two drifters could find a home together. He even lets himself believe It for a few hours, to take solace in a stupid little hope. But those ‘wiggy feelings’ that he’d told Roy he had? Well, they never go away. They only grow worse throughout the day, though he assumes it’s because of the prejudice he has to face by her side.
When he sees the face of Pride, his blood runs cold, and he knows all his assumptions and hopes were wrong.
And he knows that there can never truly be any hope for him.
ii. homunculus
It had happened so innocently, of course, because this was the way the worst always started. Sneaking up on you out of nowhere, leaving you to feel like you’d been mugged in a back alley and left to die with your blood all over the pavement. He’d been wrapped up in Noa, wrapped up in the conversation they were having, when a car had passed by out of the corner of his eye. He’d almost, almost been able to ignore it - but his instincts were bred too strongly, and it’d felt like a rock had sunk in his gut.
It was easy enough to pursue the car, and if Edward had been thinking clearly enough, he’d have known that this was a sign that it may not actually be the homunculus himself. After all, hadn’t Pride been too cunning for that? Too smart, too cunning, too much of a goddamn bastard to fall for anything as silly as being stalked. But the stone sinks lower, his anxiety grows higher, and all he can do is plot and plan how to stop this creature in its tracks.
In the end, he ends up going a simple way. Pushing a big old rock into the path of the car, and waiting for it to have to stop. Taking out the driver is far too easy, and when Ed approaches the car -
- when Ed approachs the car, it’s not the Fuhrer Bradley. It’s a relief, in more ways than one. It’s nice to know that Roy hadn’t betrayed that trust, that he hadn’t let Ed go without knowing he’d run into the fucking bastard. And it’s damn good to know that he won’t have to try to destroy the thing without alchemy. As much as Edward likes tearing things apart with his bear hands, he doubts he’d manage it in this case.
The man isn’t angry over the misunderstanding. He says he’s used to it, you see - used to misunderstanding because he’s jewish, used to mistreatment because of the same. It’s all enough to make Edward even angrier at this country he’s been forced to adopt as his own. Angry enough to want to spit, and angry enough to have to lend his own services, just to make up for the inconveniences he’s caused.
Too bad. Otherwise he might have managed to walk away, and then he’d have escaped this whole damn thing.
‘Dragon hunting’, the man who would be Fuhrer calls it, and Edward has to resist rolling his eyes. It’s another leap of logic, and he’s not inclined to believe in this one, perhaps because it doesn’t involve a pretty girl. In a world of machines and science, who believes in such a thing? Who would even bother to try to look for one?
Present company, apparently, and now Edward is expected to as well. He can only hope that he doesn’t have to wield a goddamn sword.
iii. dragon
No, the weapon of choice is far more modern, and Ed really rolls his eyes this time. He’s handed a gun and an electric torch, sent off on his way into an abandoned and crumbling castle. He thinks nothing of this little excursion. It’s a distraction, that’s all it is, and probably a story to tell later. Alfons will laugh at him, and maybe Noa will even manage to smile. Both actions will be gifts that will keep him warm for a few days longer.
But even that’s too much to hope for, isn’t it? Because this isn’t just a little distraction. His earlier fear about homunculus had been all instinct, and he’d given into it because Mustang had always taught him that instinct was the one illogical thing to follow. He’d only been tricked into thinking that it was off, and it’s in the darkest depths of a castle tower that he meets an enemy he’d hoped to have lost.
‘Edward Elric,’ the great serpeant hisses, and with only the utterance of his name, it all becomes a blur. Edward has to fight for his life against this great being, this homunculus, this horrible sin, this creation of his father - his half brother, Envy. He manages to fend him off, but before even one question can be asked, others come into the mix. Men and great machines interfere, separating the two before any discussion can be made. And a man that his father knew is there, too - but before Edward can find out anything about Hohenheim’s disappearance, they shoot some sleeping gas into his face.
It’s all over, before it’s even begun, or so it would seem. There’s something to live for, now, and hope in the air. But all he’s left with is a million questions and no answers, wondering if it would have been better if he’d just been left the hell alone.
It certainly would have been easier.
iv. bargain
When Edward sleeps that night, he dreams of things he shouldn’t. He dreams of colours, pink and purple and red, all swirling together in a way that manages to both welcome and deny. He dreams of a woman chanting, of men in armour, and glimpses of a brighter world. An earthquake, a boy who manages to split his very own soul, and a lonely man at a snowy outpost. Black creatures with wicked smiles oversee the events that have started to occur, taunting him with their power and knowledge.
Edward’s an anomaly, one that remembers all of the Truth when he sleeps - but it’s too much for his waking mind to handle. He will only remember little pieces when he wakes, chalking it up to a drug-enduced hallucination. When he crossed the gate, so long ago, he bargained away his ability to take control of his life - all for the sake of his brother. And as he has for the past two years, he will manage to lose himself to his own self-pity once more, only drawn into slight action by a few bits of curiousity and a spare hope that he might be able to find his father.
The events of yesterday haven’t taught their lesson. Not yet. Because everything has only just begun.