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31_days2012-07-03 10:57 pm
seta-suzume.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2012-07-03 10:57 pm
[July 3] [Fullmetal Alchemist] Misdirection
Title: Misdirection
Day/Theme: July 3, 2012 '"You're an artist," he says.'
Series: Fullmetal Alchemist
Character/Pairing: Scar, Dr. Marcoh, Miles
Rating: PG
Author's comment: Continued again from yesterday, but I think that's all of that for now.
"Well, thank you for that," Scar closed the notepad and laid the pencil across it, directing the borrowed items back into Marcoh's hands.
"You don't want to continue?" the doctor answered him with a sad little smile. He had enjoyed watching Scar put his hands to such peaceful work. Just silently taking in the activity was calming; talking about it had made him feel he had a friend.
"Perhaps at a later date." Scar tipped his head, directing Marcoh's attention toward their sleeping companion. "I'm not sure I want Miles asking me about it."
Marcoh wasn't sure what his reason for that would be, but the statement had the secondary effect of leading him to feel even closer to and more trusted by Scar -- not "Scar" he reminded himself, to little effect. He would have to attach the new name he was carrying to him in a more permanent manner soon- preferably before he arrived…although there was a secret part of him that held out hope that in Ishval there would be people Scar had known before, who would welcome him back to his homeland and call him by his original one, given to him by his parents, honoring their heritage and god.
Miles stirred in his sleep. What tiny detail had alerted Scar to the likely possibility of his imminent awakening?
Marcoh flipped the notebook back open and examined Scar's handiwork (it was something like an illuminated manuscript, though all in pencil grays) more carefully. Such delicate designs. Looking at them longer, a few of the words became intelligible to even his amateur and out of practice eyes.
Scar distinctly turned away, not wanting to watch Marcoh's thorough study of his art. Somehow it was sort of embarrassing.
Miles gave a small sniff and shifted position. He yawned and opened his eyes. His first inquiry was all business. He wanted to know the time.
"Still enough for you to go back to sleep if you want," Scar noted after Marcoh provided Miles with a straightforward response.
"No, that was good enough. And I want to be crisp and ready to begin when he reach the end of the line. We'll be meeting up with Martin and some of my other men. We'll have to travel the rest of the way by military transport."
The furthest stretches of railway that had been bombed out in the war had never been rebuilt. No one with any sense was expected to have any desire to visit a wasteland. In the interim, Ishval had been populated by a the dead and a ghost of a garrison.
"Is it too soon to change then?" Scar wondered, plucking at the arm of the suit he had been convinced to wear on his way out.
"Better save it," Miles grinned. His red eyes were a bit blurry with the haze of sleep.
"I'm sure it wouldn't be a real problem," Marcoh countered. He knew that Scar would feel more comfortable in Ishvalan garb and didn't it seem as if there could be some advantages to his already being attired in such when he returned to Ishvalan soil? The clothes he hoped to wear were tucked away safely in his travel bag for the moment. They had been a gift from Shavar and Cham, on behalf of all the displaced Ishvalans around Central who had stepped up to the help save the nation on the day of the eclipse. One of the women had even gone to the trouble of weaving him the proper sort of traditional scarf based on his tribal affiliation (how she knew such a thing, Marcoh could not say, but somehow Scar's identity was not such a complete cipher to his scattered people).
"Hmm?" Miles was distracted by the open notepad in the doctor's lap, "What's that? Were you drawing while I was sleeping, Dr. Marcoh? That's very- well, those letters are Ishvalan."
"He's an artist," Scar volunteered with a toothless smile, "And I think I will change now."
Day/Theme: July 3, 2012 '"You're an artist," he says.'
Series: Fullmetal Alchemist
Character/Pairing: Scar, Dr. Marcoh, Miles
Rating: PG
Author's comment: Continued again from yesterday, but I think that's all of that for now.
"Well, thank you for that," Scar closed the notepad and laid the pencil across it, directing the borrowed items back into Marcoh's hands.
"You don't want to continue?" the doctor answered him with a sad little smile. He had enjoyed watching Scar put his hands to such peaceful work. Just silently taking in the activity was calming; talking about it had made him feel he had a friend.
"Perhaps at a later date." Scar tipped his head, directing Marcoh's attention toward their sleeping companion. "I'm not sure I want Miles asking me about it."
Marcoh wasn't sure what his reason for that would be, but the statement had the secondary effect of leading him to feel even closer to and more trusted by Scar -- not "Scar" he reminded himself, to little effect. He would have to attach the new name he was carrying to him in a more permanent manner soon- preferably before he arrived…although there was a secret part of him that held out hope that in Ishval there would be people Scar had known before, who would welcome him back to his homeland and call him by his original one, given to him by his parents, honoring their heritage and god.
Miles stirred in his sleep. What tiny detail had alerted Scar to the likely possibility of his imminent awakening?
Marcoh flipped the notebook back open and examined Scar's handiwork (it was something like an illuminated manuscript, though all in pencil grays) more carefully. Such delicate designs. Looking at them longer, a few of the words became intelligible to even his amateur and out of practice eyes.
Scar distinctly turned away, not wanting to watch Marcoh's thorough study of his art. Somehow it was sort of embarrassing.
Miles gave a small sniff and shifted position. He yawned and opened his eyes. His first inquiry was all business. He wanted to know the time.
"Still enough for you to go back to sleep if you want," Scar noted after Marcoh provided Miles with a straightforward response.
"No, that was good enough. And I want to be crisp and ready to begin when he reach the end of the line. We'll be meeting up with Martin and some of my other men. We'll have to travel the rest of the way by military transport."
The furthest stretches of railway that had been bombed out in the war had never been rebuilt. No one with any sense was expected to have any desire to visit a wasteland. In the interim, Ishval had been populated by a the dead and a ghost of a garrison.
"Is it too soon to change then?" Scar wondered, plucking at the arm of the suit he had been convinced to wear on his way out.
"Better save it," Miles grinned. His red eyes were a bit blurry with the haze of sleep.
"I'm sure it wouldn't be a real problem," Marcoh countered. He knew that Scar would feel more comfortable in Ishvalan garb and didn't it seem as if there could be some advantages to his already being attired in such when he returned to Ishvalan soil? The clothes he hoped to wear were tucked away safely in his travel bag for the moment. They had been a gift from Shavar and Cham, on behalf of all the displaced Ishvalans around Central who had stepped up to the help save the nation on the day of the eclipse. One of the women had even gone to the trouble of weaving him the proper sort of traditional scarf based on his tribal affiliation (how she knew such a thing, Marcoh could not say, but somehow Scar's identity was not such a complete cipher to his scattered people).
"Hmm?" Miles was distracted by the open notepad in the doctor's lap, "What's that? Were you drawing while I was sleeping, Dr. Marcoh? That's very- well, those letters are Ishvalan."
"He's an artist," Scar volunteered with a toothless smile, "And I think I will change now."