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31_days2014-01-27 08:17 pm
seta-suzume.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2014-01-27 08:17 pm
[Jan. 27] [Fullmetal Alchemist] White Garb, White Land, White Mountains
Title: White Garb, White Land, White Mountains
Day/Theme: Jan. 27, 2014 "as seen from a poet's distance, while dressed in white"
Series: Fullmetal Alchemist
Character/Pairing: Kimblee
Rating: PG
From where he made his way up through the snow, Fort Briggs and the mountains loomed large above him, but if he looked in the opposite direction, he could see a civilized bit of Drachma still- a stretch of twinkling lights, a miniature tableaux even smaller than would've suited the dolls his mother had wished for a daughter to pass down to (the best she received was sons who tended toward quiet and indoor activities). A city, a fortress, and snow-draped walls. He gazed down on them and considered how the people there were lucky the avalanche hadn't reached half as far.
Then again, perhaps they rarely did. Of Drachma, he knew just what he had needed to know to carry out his mission. His Drachmani skills were casual. It was his innate skills, beyond anything like language or geography or military strategy, that carried the day there. Even when a translator worked to bridge the gaps, his eyes could convince a man of many things.
The papers he had received- ones that would certainly be believed, having been supplied for this purpose by the Fuhrer himself- combined with that gaze and he was in, he achieved his purpose.
And now, back to Amestris, blending in with the white of the snow. The further Drachma grew, the prettier it became.
Day/Theme: Jan. 27, 2014 "as seen from a poet's distance, while dressed in white"
Series: Fullmetal Alchemist
Character/Pairing: Kimblee
Rating: PG
From where he made his way up through the snow, Fort Briggs and the mountains loomed large above him, but if he looked in the opposite direction, he could see a civilized bit of Drachma still- a stretch of twinkling lights, a miniature tableaux even smaller than would've suited the dolls his mother had wished for a daughter to pass down to (the best she received was sons who tended toward quiet and indoor activities). A city, a fortress, and snow-draped walls. He gazed down on them and considered how the people there were lucky the avalanche hadn't reached half as far.
Then again, perhaps they rarely did. Of Drachma, he knew just what he had needed to know to carry out his mission. His Drachmani skills were casual. It was his innate skills, beyond anything like language or geography or military strategy, that carried the day there. Even when a translator worked to bridge the gaps, his eyes could convince a man of many things.
The papers he had received- ones that would certainly be believed, having been supplied for this purpose by the Fuhrer himself- combined with that gaze and he was in, he achieved his purpose.
And now, back to Amestris, blending in with the white of the snow. The further Drachma grew, the prettier it became.