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31_days2012-07-29 07:33 pm
seta-suzume.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2012-07-29 07:33 pm
[July 29] [Fullmetal Alchemist] A Human Echo
Title: A Human Echo
Day/Theme: July 29, 2012 "I love the sound of you walking away"
Series: Fullmetal Alchemist
Character/Pairing: Scar, etc.
Rating: PG
The return of people to Ishval did not drive away the ghosts. They continued to exist in overlap and in increasingly equal parts.
He was probably the only one who saw them.
There were priests in the temple though the temple wasn't standing. There were soldiers on the hill though no barricades still stood. There was laughter in the market- but some of that was real.
Dr. Marcoh wasn't the sort of person to ask when a sound he couldn't hear caught his comrade's ear and stopped him in the street. He was doing better these days, but it wasn't as if he had didn't have demons enough of his own. He ignored Scar's lapses of focus and waited for him to return.
The Ishvalan ghosts made sense. They were his people, this was their place. What other land would he conjure them up to?
The Amestrian ghosts were harder to fathom. Was it enough that they had died in this land? They wore their uniforms and carried their guns, but never a shot was fired. Instead they peered around corners and constantly patrolled in a mild, but nervous silence. There was no war in his ghostly vision of Ishval, but neither was their complete independence or peace.
He reflected on the words of Marcoh and Miles and many of the others he had met from his days as a refugee 'til now. He supposed he was not the only one for whom the war lived on.
There were a third sort of phantoms though, the ones that puzzled him most. The alchemists had outlasted the war (if there had been any State Alchemist casualties in Ishval, he had not heard of them). They had died on their native soil in locales they frequented- some even in their own homes. So why were they here and what did they want with him?
The spirit of Dario Ventura toiled away in the smithy alongside survivors of the war whose sons and homes he might have smashed with his white hot hammer. Bruna Mitsch's specter walked to the well to chat with mothers about the child she was expecting. Henry Percy's shade went to work with the weavers, but drifted off to sleep in their midst before the day was halfway through. Basque Grand, Dolores Perry, Guilio Comanche, Shou Tucker- all these people he had finished off. For better or for worse, it seemed that he carried them with him.
It was curious, but seeing them didn't hurt him nearly as much as the echoes of his family and friends did. The ghosts seemed to speak, but never to him and never in words he could understand.
Mysteriously, they came and went. When his brother was there, he was always smiling.
Was it better to keep on meeting like this, or never to see him again?
Day/Theme: July 29, 2012 "I love the sound of you walking away"
Series: Fullmetal Alchemist
Character/Pairing: Scar, etc.
Rating: PG
The return of people to Ishval did not drive away the ghosts. They continued to exist in overlap and in increasingly equal parts.
He was probably the only one who saw them.
There were priests in the temple though the temple wasn't standing. There were soldiers on the hill though no barricades still stood. There was laughter in the market- but some of that was real.
Dr. Marcoh wasn't the sort of person to ask when a sound he couldn't hear caught his comrade's ear and stopped him in the street. He was doing better these days, but it wasn't as if he had didn't have demons enough of his own. He ignored Scar's lapses of focus and waited for him to return.
The Ishvalan ghosts made sense. They were his people, this was their place. What other land would he conjure them up to?
The Amestrian ghosts were harder to fathom. Was it enough that they had died in this land? They wore their uniforms and carried their guns, but never a shot was fired. Instead they peered around corners and constantly patrolled in a mild, but nervous silence. There was no war in his ghostly vision of Ishval, but neither was their complete independence or peace.
He reflected on the words of Marcoh and Miles and many of the others he had met from his days as a refugee 'til now. He supposed he was not the only one for whom the war lived on.
There were a third sort of phantoms though, the ones that puzzled him most. The alchemists had outlasted the war (if there had been any State Alchemist casualties in Ishval, he had not heard of them). They had died on their native soil in locales they frequented- some even in their own homes. So why were they here and what did they want with him?
The spirit of Dario Ventura toiled away in the smithy alongside survivors of the war whose sons and homes he might have smashed with his white hot hammer. Bruna Mitsch's specter walked to the well to chat with mothers about the child she was expecting. Henry Percy's shade went to work with the weavers, but drifted off to sleep in their midst before the day was halfway through. Basque Grand, Dolores Perry, Guilio Comanche, Shou Tucker- all these people he had finished off. For better or for worse, it seemed that he carried them with him.
It was curious, but seeing them didn't hurt him nearly as much as the echoes of his family and friends did. The ghosts seemed to speak, but never to him and never in words he could understand.
Mysteriously, they came and went. When his brother was there, he was always smiling.
Was it better to keep on meeting like this, or never to see him again?