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31_days2012-07-08 11:59 pm
seta-suzume.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2012-07-08 11:59 pm
[July 8] [Fullmetal Alchemist] Off the Path of Death
Title: Off the Path of Death
Day/Theme: July 8, 2012 "He said it'd be good experience."
Series: Fullmetal Alchemist
Character/Pairing: Scar, Dr. Marcoh, etc.
Rating: PG-13
The tent city was quiet. Scar laid on his cot with his arms folded beneath his head. Each day he tried to work as much as possible to hasten the arrival of sleep, but from his long battles and travels he had built up quite a reserve of stamina (and a tendency towards staying up and carrying out business at night).
There were plenty of thoughts to occupy his mind. He tried to think about the good things- the people who were coming back to their homeland (some he had met before; some he never knew), the progress everyone was making, the mostly admirable way the soldiers were handling themselves… Miles was getting in touch with his Ishvalan side- often in ways he hardly expected. Marcoh was cautious but eager in his actions (a wise approach to take in Scar's opinion). It was encouraging to see him well-received. His gentle touch and fondness for spicy foods made him a quick friend of many of the more open-minded returnees.
Alone at night though it was hard to fight the less pleasant thoughts and associations. The little things- like how to convince the people who'd known him in his first life to call him by another name ("You won't be able to, Brother," Kuya Nilhar had chided him, with "Brother" as her only concession)- couldn't be counted upon to fill his mind until he slept. Sooner or later, it always came back to something stronger.
Sometimes he thought about the alchemists he'd killed. Ten in all. He wouldn't say exactly that this bothered him, but…
He walked alone at night through the rubble and thought of how those alchemists had trod this same ground once- unwanted, uninvited. They weren't all like Kimblee. They weren't necessarily happy to be here.
But they had come; they had killed.
The one he remembered most was his first: Educing. She'd been at home. She wasn't in uniform. He remembered her wavy hair, her skirt blowing up over her small, pink knees, that final sight of her with details he didn't actually want to remember.
He wasn't the sort to speak of these things though. He wasn't interested in forgiveness.
It turned out Marcoh was a light sleeper. After so much pacing through the night, the doctor caught on to him. He seemed a bit shy about it the way he met Scar's eyes, but there was no other way for him to meet that gaze than by looking up. "Either something in the food or water isn't agreeing with you since we arrived here or there's something on your mind you can't seem to shake on your own."
There was a distinct temptation to brush him off. Marcoh wasn't pushy enough to pursue if he turned down the offer for help. …Yet who else could come as close to understanding him? Marcoh had been a State Alchemist. In his own fashion, Marcoh was a killer too.
"You knew the other State Alchemists who fought in Ishval?" …If he hadn't, then there was no point in discussing it further.
"Most of them," Marcoh hedged his bets, "Of them at least."
"Educing - Mitsch."
"Not enough," Marcoh's shoulders drooped. He obviously knew what had happened to her though. Here he was, largely unconnected to the event, and he was the one who felt guilty.
"…Was she married?"
Something about this question caught Marcoh's attention in a different way. "I don't believe so…"
"In that case, I might know something you don't." Now that he had made a promise of sorts, he would be expected to deliver. Scar hesitated to say more.
"Would you like to come inside and sit down?"
"Please." These words would be better shared where the shadows of an unlit tent hid his mixed emotions. He could not assure himself that this would be a good experience. Marcoh didn't try to.
Day/Theme: July 8, 2012 "He said it'd be good experience."
Series: Fullmetal Alchemist
Character/Pairing: Scar, Dr. Marcoh, etc.
Rating: PG-13
The tent city was quiet. Scar laid on his cot with his arms folded beneath his head. Each day he tried to work as much as possible to hasten the arrival of sleep, but from his long battles and travels he had built up quite a reserve of stamina (and a tendency towards staying up and carrying out business at night).
There were plenty of thoughts to occupy his mind. He tried to think about the good things- the people who were coming back to their homeland (some he had met before; some he never knew), the progress everyone was making, the mostly admirable way the soldiers were handling themselves… Miles was getting in touch with his Ishvalan side- often in ways he hardly expected. Marcoh was cautious but eager in his actions (a wise approach to take in Scar's opinion). It was encouraging to see him well-received. His gentle touch and fondness for spicy foods made him a quick friend of many of the more open-minded returnees.
Alone at night though it was hard to fight the less pleasant thoughts and associations. The little things- like how to convince the people who'd known him in his first life to call him by another name ("You won't be able to, Brother," Kuya Nilhar had chided him, with "Brother" as her only concession)- couldn't be counted upon to fill his mind until he slept. Sooner or later, it always came back to something stronger.
Sometimes he thought about the alchemists he'd killed. Ten in all. He wouldn't say exactly that this bothered him, but…
He walked alone at night through the rubble and thought of how those alchemists had trod this same ground once- unwanted, uninvited. They weren't all like Kimblee. They weren't necessarily happy to be here.
But they had come; they had killed.
The one he remembered most was his first: Educing. She'd been at home. She wasn't in uniform. He remembered her wavy hair, her skirt blowing up over her small, pink knees, that final sight of her with details he didn't actually want to remember.
He wasn't the sort to speak of these things though. He wasn't interested in forgiveness.
It turned out Marcoh was a light sleeper. After so much pacing through the night, the doctor caught on to him. He seemed a bit shy about it the way he met Scar's eyes, but there was no other way for him to meet that gaze than by looking up. "Either something in the food or water isn't agreeing with you since we arrived here or there's something on your mind you can't seem to shake on your own."
There was a distinct temptation to brush him off. Marcoh wasn't pushy enough to pursue if he turned down the offer for help. …Yet who else could come as close to understanding him? Marcoh had been a State Alchemist. In his own fashion, Marcoh was a killer too.
"You knew the other State Alchemists who fought in Ishval?" …If he hadn't, then there was no point in discussing it further.
"Most of them," Marcoh hedged his bets, "Of them at least."
"Educing - Mitsch."
"Not enough," Marcoh's shoulders drooped. He obviously knew what had happened to her though. Here he was, largely unconnected to the event, and he was the one who felt guilty.
"…Was she married?"
Something about this question caught Marcoh's attention in a different way. "I don't believe so…"
"In that case, I might know something you don't." Now that he had made a promise of sorts, he would be expected to deliver. Scar hesitated to say more.
"Would you like to come inside and sit down?"
"Please." These words would be better shared where the shadows of an unlit tent hid his mixed emotions. He could not assure himself that this would be a good experience. Marcoh didn't try to.