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31_days2005-08-26 01:23 am
findingfaramir.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2005-08-26 01:23 am
[August 26] [Full Metal Alchemist] Odysseus
Title: Odysseus
Fandom: Full Metal Alchemist
Day/Theme: August 26 - Souls are like armed battalions
Character/Pairing: Roy Mustang/Riza Hawkeye
Rating: G
She knelt in the sand and scrubbed her hands vigorously, one shoulder up against a short cement barrier, the strap of her rifle jammed uncomfortably under her elbow.
Her hair was covered with dust and so was her face, except for a streak across her eyes that she cleaned with a damp rag (though it was nearly dry now, as she crouched in her shelter and tried to scrape the desert from her hands with its own essence) and beyond her a fire flared.
She coughed and closed her eyes briefly, and then with an automatic, practiced motion slung the rifle up and settled it, sighting for a long moment of silence until she realized there was nobody left to shoot, just a landscape of soot and wreckage. A beam cracks nearby and falls to the ground with an accompaniment of embers.
“Hawkeye,” he says then, from behind her, his voice as cracked and dirty as she feels, as if she’ll never be clean.
“Sir,” she responds, and his fingers wind in the short blonde hair at the back of her head, and she can feel his fingers trembling.
Fandom: Full Metal Alchemist
Day/Theme: August 26 - Souls are like armed battalions
Character/Pairing: Roy Mustang/Riza Hawkeye
Rating: G
She knelt in the sand and scrubbed her hands vigorously, one shoulder up against a short cement barrier, the strap of her rifle jammed uncomfortably under her elbow.
Her hair was covered with dust and so was her face, except for a streak across her eyes that she cleaned with a damp rag (though it was nearly dry now, as she crouched in her shelter and tried to scrape the desert from her hands with its own essence) and beyond her a fire flared.
She coughed and closed her eyes briefly, and then with an automatic, practiced motion slung the rifle up and settled it, sighting for a long moment of silence until she realized there was nobody left to shoot, just a landscape of soot and wreckage. A beam cracks nearby and falls to the ground with an accompaniment of embers.
“Hawkeye,” he says then, from behind her, his voice as cracked and dirty as she feels, as if she’ll never be clean.
“Sir,” she responds, and his fingers wind in the short blonde hair at the back of her head, and she can feel his fingers trembling.