but not steel and bones (Fullmetal Alchemist; Al, Ed)
but not steel and bones
Fullmetal Alchemist; Al, Ed
G; 268 words
On the trains.
For
silverblade219, in response to the
fic_promptly prompt Fullmetal Alchemist, Ed and Al, on the trains.
Ed's fallen asleep again.
Al brings books along for occasions like these, when he's left to himself because Ed still has to attend to his human needs. The number of books he's gone through because he doesn't need to sleep-Al knows so many people who wish they could use the time they slept 'productively', who would give up so many things of value for what he has, a body with no need for food or sleep or even air.
But they don't know what it's like. They don't know the loneliness of spending every night alone, looking through book after book after book, or, worse, lost in his own thoughts, his yearning for the return of his body. They don't know what it's like to look at everyone else around him eating and be unable to join them, no matter how much he wants to taste.
They don't know what it means to lose things that are so basic to being human.
Ed's fallen asleep again because they got up early to take the first train out. Al had gone through two and a half books while Ed slept the night before, and he'll probably finish the remaining half on the train, after he reads the newspaper he bought at the station. Al used to watch the scenery pass by, but he's seen so much of it by now that he is no longer awed by the wild beauty and ferocity of nature.
He wants to be able to sleep on the train like Ed, the steady thump of the wheels passing over rail lulling him into slumber.
11.05.26
Fullmetal Alchemist; Al, Ed
G; 268 words
On the trains.
For
silverblade219, in response to the
fic_promptly prompt Fullmetal Alchemist, Ed and Al, on the trains.
Ed's fallen asleep again.
Al brings books along for occasions like these, when he's left to himself because Ed still has to attend to his human needs. The number of books he's gone through because he doesn't need to sleep-Al knows so many people who wish they could use the time they slept 'productively', who would give up so many things of value for what he has, a body with no need for food or sleep or even air.
But they don't know what it's like. They don't know the loneliness of spending every night alone, looking through book after book after book, or, worse, lost in his own thoughts, his yearning for the return of his body. They don't know what it's like to look at everyone else around him eating and be unable to join them, no matter how much he wants to taste.
They don't know what it means to lose things that are so basic to being human.
Ed's fallen asleep again because they got up early to take the first train out. Al had gone through two and a half books while Ed slept the night before, and he'll probably finish the remaining half on the train, after he reads the newspaper he bought at the station. Al used to watch the scenery pass by, but he's seen so much of it by now that he is no longer awed by the wild beauty and ferocity of nature.
He wants to be able to sleep on the train like Ed, the steady thump of the wheels passing over rail lulling him into slumber.
11.05.26