Prompt: Talisman
Word Count: 500
Series: All, but leaning towards Manga chap95omg
Rating: M
Characters: Mustang
Disclaimer: Oh, if only.
Warnings: Um... dark?
Summary: If this is his Hell, so be it.
A/N: I actually had this written before a lot of bad things happened in my life, but strangely enough editing this when I was still angry at the world helped me get through some of it. (Although I'm not sure being so angry was good for the actual editing process...) And thank you Alkaline Trio for this one. In Vein is awesome. This won 2nd place wahoo!!
You recognise this shape? It's the back of your hand,
You've placed it on my face here again and again,
And I don't want to be the one who takes this place in vein
INFERNO
Never.
Never has he known so much aching despair. The worthless trinket sits in his palms, polluting his hands with agony and screams for vengeance.
Let it disentigrate; crumble into dust.
Let it burn.
This is it. After years of fighting for this joke called life, Maes is six feet underground and all that's left is Roy's pocket watch; for words carved into it long ago, "Get a wife," are the only reminders of their friendship besides old photographs and maybe a shot glass or two. He should want to keep the watch, in honour of their brotherhood, but instead the talisman that once gave him so much pride and power as a state alchemist has become his bad luck charm, bringing him unwillingly to his knees at every turn, and into darkness it must go -
Along with the memories.
He is in Ishval; winds lashing at him with sand, searing his hopes into pieces as they bite into his skin. Another comrade, gone; lost under his command. Another child, dead.
This place, this holocaust nation ravaged by war and its gruesome, pestilent shadow, eats away at the pride of men until they are men no more - only empty souls, ghosts of dreams they once had. Their dream turned into a nightmare long ago, but Maes is there, ever hopeful and willing. He makes the days bearable.
He is in a bar, gulping down copious amounts of alcohol, not sure anymore whether to laugh or cry that they've sent him back, claiming victory. Maes, who understands, laughs and cries with him. He makes the days bearable.
He is in front of the phone booth, watching blood wash away from rains and mediocrity of everyday life. The passersby will make calls, not knowing what happened here. They will read the newspaper, aghast at its contents, then forget the catastrophe in a matter of days. The culprits will sneak away unpunished and he will become victim to himself and his own hatred, because now Maes is not there to make sure such things never happen to someone he called, "friend." He made the days bearable.
He used to.
If this is his Hell, so be it. He will drag them down with him; gasping, choking for air as the flames rob them of oxygen - life. Let his array activate, heat engulfing him as he takes equivalent exchange too damn far, ripping into them with fire, and wrath, and passion once reserved for the people who loved him - people stolen from him - people like Maes. His bloodshot eyes will scan the distance, searching for sinners to enslave in sparks, and his bitter inferno will devour them until they are charred enough to repent, they will beg for mercy and he will light them ablaze once more, and not enough will remain even to taint the sidewalk with ashes. He will incinerate the world along with his fucking pocket watch, and then finally, finally be done with this and everything will burn.
Everything.
end.
A/N: I try to use similar themes in all my stories because I want them to tie together, but now I'm just worried that my writing just seems repetitive. Damn. Not sure I'm entirely happy with this, but then, I'm never happy with anything I write so I guess that's nothing new.
Hmm. I liked the idea of Roy also having words carved into his watch, for some reason.
Sigh. I almost got through this one without using the f-word. Almost.