Hello everyone, this is Moofy_fan here, one of the two writers of this collaboration. I'm very excited to be starting a new story about Pride since one of my other ones finished quite some time ago, and definitely happy about my first collaboration. Hope you all enjoy it too.

A2D here, sorry for posting this a bit late today, I went on a Tolkien related spending spree…Oh, by the way, we'd like to thank Anne Camp for beta-ing this fic for us, we really appreciate it. Also, we guess we should warn you about our usual goriness that you should expect from us by now.

Chapter One

This was not going the way they had planned. Not at all. Those horrible human sacrifices actually thought they could fight back against Father, that they actually had a chance against a God. To think that Hohenheim, the foolish slave that Father had so graciously given immortality to all those years ago, had managed to set up something to tear out the human souls from Father as if he actually had a right to.

Pride watched as Father, still managing to keep his God form despite the damage Hohenheim had inflicted on him of course, shot up into the air. The human sacrifices immediately chased after him, creating huge pillars of stone with their own alchemy. Not one of them taking a single glance at the final remaining homunculus standing on the sidelines, hand pressed to the side of his face as millions of tiny flakes slipped through his fingers. Pride took a step forward, cringing as his shadows shuddered in an attempt to keep his container together. It felt like the thinning wall of his container's leg would give in soon if he put much more stress on it.

Looking up towards the gaping hole in the ceiling, Pride's frown deepened. Father… he would come back for him. Of course, there was no question about that at all. As soon as he dealt with those meddlesome human sacrifices, he'd be right back and readily fix his container.

Pride just didn't know if he would last that long.

An hour, three perhaps. If you weren't to move you might even last a day, if you are especially fortunate…

Truth had been so sure that his container wouldn't remain stable for very long. He didn't have much time, but he couldn't hope to be capable of climbing the distance upwards to where Father had gone in his current state, and he wouldn't dare be so audacious as to ask for Father's help when he would be attending to something as important as destroying the human sacrifices. That was far too shameful to consider a sensible option. Pride's hand fell into the crevice in his face as the artificial skin crumbled further, and he winced as his fingers brushed the exposed shadow in his head.

Even if he didn't move, he wouldn't last if he just stayed here. But if he went above ground, he could find a new container for himself. Pride cringed at the very thought of abandoning the container Father had constructed and given to him, but if he dawdled for much longer it would disintegrate into nothing, and he couldn't hope to survive without a container. To think that Pride, who would have given anything to help Father escape his container and obtain Godhood, would have his own container (the only thing Father had ever given to him) taken away as punishment.

Truth can be cruel…

As always, Father was right.

Knowing that it was his only option now, Pride dejectedly inched towards the door at one side of Father's destroyed room.

When the crumbling sin managed to reach the closest exit, he found himself frowning even deeper than before, if such a thing were possible. The door that had been standing before crumpled into a pile of rubble, blocking most of what he could see. If the fight had damaged this exit, it was probably safe to assume that any of the others would be in a similar state. Besides, he didn't have the time or strength to go around the entirety of Father's lair looking for a way out.

Scanning the rubble again, near the top of where the doorway used to stand, Pride could just make out a gap in the rubble most likely large enough for him to slip through. Now he just needed to see if his shamble of a container could make it up there. Clenching his teeth, Pride slowly lowered his hand away from the gaping hole in his face in order to hesitantly grab a hold in the pile. Shifting the rest of him, the small homunculus managed to pull himself up onto the rubble. Several flakes floated past his line of sight, but he ignored them for now in favor of focus on moving another step upwards… and another… and another…

Pride was forced to stop about halfway up the pile, fear of pushing his terribly weak container too far making him rest. He didn't have time to rest though; He needed to get out and find a new container so that he could return to the fight and help Father. Teeth still gritted Pride continued to clamber up the rock pile, he could almost see the top—almost. Forcing himself to push another step higher his foot slipped, and his shoe slipped off with it as he tried to regain his footing, clacking against the stone floor with an echoing thud just to spite him. There was no going back for it; he'd be fine, completely fine, he didn't need his shoes, all the humans were back now, so it would be all too easy to find a new container.

A pessimistic thought wormed its way into Pride's mind—could a human be used as a new container? His current, decaying container was made by Father, was a completely artificial shell capable of housing his form, how could a human sustain him?—it didn't matter, surely a human body would be able to function long enough so that he could help Father, and then Father would make him a new, perfect one again. Of course he would.

He landed with a much louder thud as he lost his grip when he was climbing down the other side, visible cracks appearing on his legs and more specks of skin colored dust floating up through his vision. Pride knew it was far more sensible to crawl the rest of the way. However long after, when the shadows in his legs were stretched to their thinnest and he had no idea why the skin had not worn away completely, he reached the steps that led outside.

Pride found himself unable to do anything but sit in the back ally for a moment, staring up at the small patch of sky visible in between the tall buildings. He could just manage to make out the bustled and panicked noises of those pathetic humans as they desperately tried to figure out what had happened moments ago and fight back. As if they could ever do such a thing. To think such ants could be so full of themselves to try to challenge the God that Father now was. Even in the slightly weakened state that Hohenhiem had put him in, he could easily thwart all of them in a matter of moments.

He didn't actually need Pride's help, of course. It was just in his duty to try everything he could to make Father's life easier. And right now, besides simply needing it to keep from dying, he needed to find a new container, even something as lowly as a human, in order to help him.

Crawling along, he reached the end of the alleyway and peeked out. Those pathetic beings were scurrying all over the place now, several of them in the distinctive blue uniform of the military, while others in the strange winter gear of Briggs. Civilians were intermixed between all of them, clearly at a panic for what to do.

Scanning the crowd, Pride tried to find someone suitable for housing him. No one seemed… right, though, but he couldn't quite put his chipped finger on what was wrong.

They were all too… big.

Oh. That was why they felt wrong. It made sense, somewhat, he had always been housed in this childlike container, he had not been raised to control anything different, excepting his manipulation of Alphonse Elric the day before, but even then that was merely expanding his shadows out from it. Using a child as a replacement was only the logical choice. With barely enough shadows to fill his container as it was it would be far more sensible to choose one equally as small so as not to strain himself even further. It was most certainly not some foolish attachment to his container, not at all; the thought itself was so absurd it wasn't even worth considering.

As Pride continued to peer out into the street he observed the children passing by. They didn't understand what had happened to them either, but as they didn't know how to express themselves, most running around or crying like the pathetic, worthless nothings they were. He assessed them all clinically, and considered how he would lure one to him.

A particularly irritating whine rang out from the middle of the crowd, and a small speck of a thing darted between the sea of legs he was caught between, covering his eyes and shivering, how pathetic. Eventually the little wretch was forced out and stumbled close, but was looking every which way but at him. Pride cowered against the wall and covered his face with both hands. The minuscule shadows around in his throat wrapped around his damaged vocal cords, and called out weakly.

"H-hey, over here," he managed to say, just loudly enough for the boy to hear him. Glancing out between two fingers, making sure to use the eye that had yet to disintegrate into nothingness, he looked the boy over.

Pride frowned as he looked him over. Red hair, messy now from the child's distress, but would probably be fine once combed a bit. The boy was also a bit smaller than his current container, so probably 'younger' as well. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he slumped into his hands ever so slightly. It didn't matter what the boy looked like, this was just temporary after all. He was in no state to be picky at the moment. If he could have afforded to do that, he would have bypassed the mere thought of a human as a container. He was clearly desperate though, and right now this boy would do well enough.

"Please. I need your help," he called again, irritation building up inside him at the way the child chose to just stand there. Something finally seemed to click in his minuscule brain when Pride spoke the second time however, and the boy quickly rushed over.

"Whatsa matter? Did you get hurt?" he asked, kneeling in front of Pride, not bothering to wipe away the tears still streaking his own face. The small homunculus just managed to nod, barely able to keep the hole in his container's head hidden by this point.

"Yes…" he started, glancing out towards the crowded street once again, before looking back to the empty alley. "It should be safe… back there. Could you help me walk?" The boy followed his gaze cautiously deeper into the alley.

"But you're hurt. I should get help 'nstead. Can find mummy then I'll come back with help." Pride hadn't anticipated the boy having an ounce of sense. The boy's determination to return to his parent was rather perplexing, to the extent that it would interfere with any pathetic compassion he might have had at the sight of another child 'hurt'. Pride could understand it somewhat, he only desired the same thing, though infinitely more important. Still, if the human left, he'd never come back. By the looks of it he was already standing up to leave. Pride could not let that happen.

"You can't go!" Pride winced as he latched onto the boy's sleeve, pushing his spare arm up to try and cover the hole in his face. "I mean…it's too dangerous after what happened. You won't find a doctor. Besides…" Pride lowered his head and squealed out his best whimper, shivering a little. "A doctor won't be able to help me." From his good eye Pride managed to catch the boy's terrified little frown as he realized the implication. Humans were so easy to manipulate. "Please, help me over there. I won't bother you again. I promise." The boy nodded solemnly, his pale blue eyes welling up again as fresh tears began to mar his cheeks. Pride pushed himself against the wall with a groan, weakly lifting himself up with his legs with both hands up to cover his face. The boy was there when his legs buckled, helping him stay standing with a grim, still concerned smile.

Once they got to the end of the alley, the boy helped Pride down to the ground once again as carefully as he could. In between his fingers the deteriorating homunculus could just make out the boy's hesitation. He glanced back down the alley before looking back at him, clearly unsure about what he should do. He didn't seem to want to leave Pride all alone now, but was obviously terrified from the destruction going on around them.

Pride closed his remaining eye, the other having completely flaked away now and concentrated on the shadows still inside his cracked container. He had the child back here now, he couldn't let him get away.

"A-are you gonna be okay? I can go find mummy for you," the boy offered. Pride shook his head, trying to keep him distracted from the small strand of shadow he forced from his container, slithering along the ground towards his feet.

"Thank you," Pride said, just barely able to keep up his act's voice with the small amount of shadows left inside of him. If he didn't act soon, the child would either find some excuse to leave, or Pride really would just run out of time and die. The second the boy saw what was truly wrong with his container he'd probably run screaming anyway, and it was getting increasingly more difficult to hide the ever growing hole.

"I'm going to be just fine now," he said, the shadow quickly wrapping itself around the boy's ankle. They wouldn't be anything noticeable for the time being, just enough to prevent him from moving anywhere precarious.

"That's good. Happy you're gonna be ok," The boy smiled a more relaxed, happier smile. It was strange, that from simply helping him this far he was happy with himself. It wasn't like it was any great feat, so it was completely unfounded. Pride shuffled a little against the wall, gathering his thoughts, emulating the smile as best he could behind his hands.

Crack.

Pride's smile faded in an instant as his skin fractured further at the strain, breaking down his face and all one side collapsing into his palm as dust and then nothing. The boy only winced at the sound, his smile disappearing as well, and he recoiled fearfully.

"W-What's wrong?" He couldn't wait anymore, couldn't stall, if he waited another second he'd realize what was so wrong, even if there was no escape for him, it was better he remain unaware for as long as possible "Are you-?" Now. A sliver of shadow rose up beside the ones around ankles, growing a small row of teeth curved into a focused, if cautious frown. A cut, he needed a cut to force the shadow inside, and finding none the shadow itself lashed out, slashing a messy gash into his leg through his socks while the shadows around his ankle sank their teeth into the flesh to keep him from moving. The child stared blankly down at him, a sound catching in his throat and only coming out as a distraught whine when the pain reached him.

"What's…?" he barely managed to ask, head whipping down to see the cause of his current pain. A shriek of terror erupted from the young boy at the sight of the strange black form wrapped around his leg, and his effort to pull himself away only caused him to fall ungracefully to the ground. There was no helping it now, and Pride allowed the hands shielding his hopelessly fractured face to fall to his sides. The small boy didn't even notice at first, still trying to tear his leg away from the shadows.

"H-help me! Please!" he yelled, seeming not to have even realized yet that the shadows were an extension of the one he was begging. "Hel-" he started to shriek again, turning to look at Pride, the word dying in his throat instead.

"Huh? W-what… what are…" he stuttered, the terror in his voice obvious now. Before he could focus enough through the fear to actually finish his question he started once again to yell in pain. Pride simply trying to ignore his shrieks as he forced more of his shadows into the cut on his leg.

"Stop it! Stop it! Please someone help!" he screamed. Absolutely pathetic, tears flowing freely now as he continued to try and pull himself away. Manifesting another one of his shadows, he shot it out before the child could notice and wrapped it tightly around his mouth, causing yet another shriek from the boy. It was muffled this time though, so that no one passing by would think to investigate the screams.

Pride pulled the boy closer roughly by his shadows, no use wasting them on unnecessary distance between the two of them. Had the child been dragged along the floor moments ago Pride had no doubt that he would have started crying, but with the pain of the shadow clawing at the inside of his leg he only groaned behind the one around his mouth, it paling in comparison.

His right hand cracked, all his fingers fracturing along the joints, and Pride pulled his shadows away from the skin to protect them from dissipating too, his whole hand nothing but a cloud of dust now. Gritting his teeth Pride pushed the shadow further into the ever growing hole in the boy's leg, forcing them in by leaning all of his container's weight on the small black blob, forcing it inside. The muffled shrieks sounded against his other shadow, the tears never ceasing as he stared blankly forward, eyes clouding a little, like he was…

"Don't you even dare think of dying!" The boy tensed at the sound of his voice, shuddering. There was no point trying to waste his shadow's energy on manipulating his human voice now, using it for so long had wasted enough of it already, any more than that might cross the threshold of whether he had enough shadows left to be able to…

Through the shadow buried halfway up the boy's knee, he could feel the pressure as he forced the blood backwards, and knowing he wouldn't get much further without bursting the artery, he sliced a small hole from the inside, the congested blood pouring away and he pushed more forcefully upwards.

Pride allowed the rest of the shadows still inside of his crumbling container to slide down to the bottom, not wanting to waste them on holding the now useless container up any longer. The form Father had given him slumped forward without his shadows there to hold it, still flaking away at an alarmingly fast speed. Pride didn't care though. He just had to focus on transferring the rest of himself into the still struggling boy.

The more shadows he pushed inside of the boy, the more concerned he began to grow. Even if he managed to get the remainder of his shadows inside, would this human body really be able to work as a container? His old container was completely empty save for his shadows, while this human body was obviously not. Even when Father had specifically attempted to use humans as potential homunculus, the majority quickly died. Blood was spilling out around the edges of his shadows where they pushed into the leg, almost matching the free flowing tears from the little boy's clouded eyes.

The sin ignored these concerns for now; there wasn't any other choice he had, after all. Almost half of the remainder of his shadows were inside of the boy now, and Pride was wondering if he could actually force himself inside without killing the child. He found himself having to cut another hole in the artery to relieve the pressure once again.

Pride released the gag he had on the child's mouth now, letting it return to the rest of the shadows still making their way inside the boy. It was almost done now, he couldn't afford to waste anymore energy with restraining the boy. With so few shadows left, he simply couldn't use them for anything other than the necessities. Even with the gag removed, the redheaded boy didn't do anything but moan in pain, which turned to whimpering as his strength continued to give out.

As little more than a large amorphous blob against the wall now, Pride could move more freely than if he was still manipulating his container, completely out in the open for the first time in…he couldn't remember. The smallest part of him was still clinging to his old container, filling up a puddle in its feet. He couldn't survive without a container, and Pride wouldn't risk completely severing himself from his old body until he was sure he could be sure his new container's body would remain intact. Pride stole a short glance at his old container. He could tell it was still crumpling as barely audible little cracks echoed through the alleyway, the rest of his artificial skin began to disintegrate, a slow trickle of dust rising out into the air, while the boy's blood just poured out onto the floor. His container's remaining eye was half closed, eyelid sagging over it almost peacefully, more tired than empty. The eye itself had yet to be destroyed, still vaguely looking alive and human, though a filmy translucent haze had begun to cover it, clouding so like the young human's that would replace it.

The boy's blood was beginning to push at the shadow feebly now, but at a much more rapid pace than before- in time with his short, weak little gasps of air. Pride just sliced more holes in the boy's artery, his actions more vicious and desperate now, his shadow expanding out and forcing their way into more arteries. He gasped with another weak, but slightly louder whimper and he curled up a little. His clouded blue eyes stared blankly at his container, following it down to the remaining blob of shadow. The boy hadn't the strength left to be afraid anymore. The blood loss, among other things was affecting him more than Pride had first assumed; his heart rate had weakened even more, and his skin had paled to a sickly white.

There was only a small bit of Pride left that had yet to go inside of the boy now, and the sin felt himself hesitate slightly. What if it didn't work and he couldn't control the human body the same as his old container? Would he just die along with the child since there was no way he could possibly live after the damage Pride had done to his insides if he wasn't used as a container?

Well, it didn't matter. He would most certainly die if he tried to stay in his old container, at least this way he had a chance. The part of his shadow connecting his old and new container stretched extremely thin, and Pride hesitated for just a moment longer before finally pulling the tiny bit still tucked inside of his crumbling, old foot out. Very quickly, he willed the last of his shadows to make their way inside of the boy's body - his new container - as if afraid that any extra time spent outside would cause them to disintegrate just as his former housing had.

The second the sin was inside of his new host, a slightly disorienting sense overwhelmed him. He couldn't see yet, having not reached the eyes. He forced himself to focus, not allowing his mind to muse over whether the boy could still think or not, he let the remainder of his shadows spread out over his arteries, making their way into the veins as well after a few moments.

Without forming any eyes in the shadow that now composed the entirety of him (he still needed to save his energy and he doubted they could see well through the veil of blood still weakly propelling itself past him, Pride allowed himself to remain calm and set in his current place, tethered to a web of other torn arteries with his dozens of little hands and tendrils. So far so good, even though he hadn't officially been without a container for more than a few moments, and between the acquisition of a makeshift replacement, he didn't feel that much different. If nothing else he wasn't dying. That was one thing, at least. The quick, desperate but fading thrums of the human's diligently pattering heart echoed about in time with the trickles pushing at him. The sound of it- how close and yet so far away it seemed - had the eerie familiarity of something about it (even though he knew he had never heard such a thing before) and it sent a quiet ripple over his blood-stained shadows. He would put an end to that soon enough. He would tear the pathetic child's soul from him. The boy would then be absorbed purely out of necessity rather than him being deserving of such. He wasn't so wasteful as to ignore a perfectly usable human soul, especially if it currently occupied his new container (and he most definitely ignored the whispering worry that to not do so would be incredibly foolish).

One of his shadows, or rather, what constituted as one of his hands now (it was strange to think such a thing, to not have his layers of artificial skin enveloping them) snagged on something, probably another artery, and he only cautiously pushed the sharp fingers forward into it (no joints still, his shadows had never needed to bend their fingers). Pride had never learned much about anatomy outside of his youth when he had experimented on many a human, learning where best to cut and bite and claw at and how they screamed and begged until he grew bored of them. He'd never learned anything on such a refined scale that he would know much about their circulation system. It was this ignorance that left him completely unprepared when the tips of his boneless fingers pushed through into the soft tube that, instead of bleeding and repelling his shadow, it merely pulled it inside to replace the blood spilling away, his shadow thinning immediately and spreading further along. This must have been a vein. Still rather disoriented, but far too intrigued to waste this possibility to spread through the boy's body to really take notice, Pride clawed his other hands through the arteries they were lodged in and sought out others without delay, following the flow of the blood rather than stubbornly fighting it. The shadows seemed to be adapting to the situation a little too easily, but it was nothing he couldn't ignore, especially something so helpful. This was so much more efficient. At this rate everything would be running smoothly within no time, and then he could help Father.

It wasn't long at all before Pride felt he tip of his strung out shadows pooling into the boy's weakly beating heart. It really was a wonder it had managed to keep moving at all up until this point. The entirety of the sin was still too large to fit neatly inside of the small chamber, and it began to push him out once he'd filled it to capacity.

It wasn't difficult to move throughout the body at all now. His shadows stretched thin throughout the majority of the boy – his new container – now. The pulse from his heart that would push him along was growing weaker and weaker by the second so that now he could pretty simply ignore it without too much trouble.

It was all going so smoothly, it was getting hard to keep from thinking about. It didn't matter now though. Just a few more small problems to work through, and this container should be capable of holding him at least long enough for Father to completely eradicate those humans. And then, once he was no longer busy, he could create a new, much more suitable container for Pride.

He found it rather difficult to orient himself inside of the container, but after a few moments he was able to settle enough to find the boy's head and eyes were. Two small tendrils broke away from the main form that constituted of the entirety of the sin and wrapped carefully around the nerves coming directly out of the back of the container's eyes. He had no idea whether or not this would actually allow him to see. His original container's eyes weren't actual eyes after all. Pride briefly entertained the idea of pushing the boy's eyes out entirely, but quickly decided against it. Holes in his container didn't sound like the best idea, and if he wanted to stay inconspicuous for the moment, walking around with his shadow's eyes where a normal boy's should be was definitely not what he needed.

To his surprise however, a blurred image started to replace the complete darkness. Tightening the grip on the optic nerve, the image very slowly began to clear up until he was staring out at the alleyway where he'd led that foolish child once again. Only now he was looking out from the boy's position, down at the crumbling remains of his old container slumped over in a broken heap. It was a shame, perhaps, for Father's beautiful and perfect container that he had made just for him to be destroyed this way, in this dank, disgusting alleyway that was so shamefully unbecoming for him to even still be lying in. But he was still too weak and disoriented to do anything but twitch and adjust to his new container, so it was something Pride would need to endure for a few moments longer before he attended to more pressing matters. First he would need to absorb the wretch's soul while he was still feebly clinging to life (and he felt the tiny twitch of a shiver run disobediently along his new container as he moved it, the boy still resisting even now), but Pride had never assimilated a soul without consuming the human's body, and he was quite at a loss for how he should go about it. How was he to know where human souls were located anyway?

His old container began to deteriorate even more, starting at the feet the skin cracked and concaved, dissolving into a thick grey powder completely unlike how the limbs of his siblings would dissolve when severed. Understandable, his container had always been far different in its construction to their bodies. As its fingertips began to crumble as well Pride stole a glance at his new container's fingers. They were thinner, with fingernails that had been childishly bitten in a few places, chipped a little from perhaps falling over. Ever since Pride had become an alchemist those hours before, his knowledge of elements and chemicals that constructed all things had been greatly expanded, even more so ever since he had seen the Gate. That knowledge flickered and filtered its way into the forefront of Pride's mind as he focused on the fingernails, and he just knew what they were formed from. Keratin, just like his hair, and his old container looked so seamlessly like that too, down to every last strand or fingernail…even though it couldn't have been made from the same array of exclusively organic constructs, monomers and such…

But they were so similar. So similar…but that was absurd…It couldn't possibly…

What was this horrible stabbing of a thought, a thought too shameful to even be thinking? Father wouldn't have…Father made his old container just for him, how could it possibly be anything other than completely artificial? It was simple, it wasn't anything but that, and there was nothing that even implied anything otherwise. Despite Pride's best efforts the thought returned, or rather never left, and questions began to bubble up in a stream that he couldn't worm his way out of with excuses like he'd had before.

How did I know how to take control of a human's body? Father never taught me, or told me I could do it, I just…knew how to, but why?

Why was it so easy, how did I know exactly what to do? Why…? Why…?

Why?

There was…something; a horrible something of a thought that pined somewhere too far away for him to care about and that he couldn't bear to want to think about.

Another loud, mournful sort of crack ripped Pride from his anxious wondering, and he returned his gaze to his container. This time though, he couldn't look upon it wistfully, only staring at it with apprehension and fear and a wishing for that dreadful thought to be wrong with every fiber of his new container.

The decomposition seemed almost agonizingly slow as Pride stood practically paralyzed in place, both from his weakness of adjusting to his new container and his need to make sure that the one Father had made for him was just as perfect as he'd always thought it to be. He needed to watch every little flake of powdery dust fall away as he tried and failed over and over again to convince himself that it had been alchemically made-that it was fake.

A fake. Artificial. It could only be so perfect looking because Father made it. Father wouldn't have made him anything less than perfect. Taking control of this human's body was just a coincidence. Only a coincidence. A strange, lifesaving little trick.

Nearly half of both his original container's arms and legs had vanished, and the hole where his eye had once been now grew disturbingly wide. It stretched back up into his old hair now, as that too dusted away to nothing. Then it grew down his old container's cheek, the flesh slowly but surely being eaten away, leaving the grotesque looking thing to stare back at him dully through its remaining eye with only half a face.

So far he could see nothing to truly prove that the foolish, disgraceful thought that had entered his mind was correct besides the perfection of Father's mimicry and his odd new ability. Even while he stared, he wasn't sure what he was looking for to prove him wrong. There wasn't any evidence that could prove anything wrong or right. It was just empty. A hollow container for his true form that was slowly fading away now, because of that cursed Truth.

Something did end up showing though, and Pride felt his new container spasm slightly as a shudder that could almost be called a gasp ripped through his shadows at the sight; something glimmering white, staying for just a few small moments longer than the artificial skin did. The one side of his face was almost completely gone now, having spread nearly down to his jaw, where this obscene thing had somehow appeared!

It didn't… just what was…? His container was supposed to be empty! Empty and perfect and made by Father just for him and him alone!

Even now Pride tried to make some excuse, to try and make himself believe that the fading, but still ever so clear and growing patch of white was not what he thought it was- what it could only be. From here he could tell its construction effortlessly enough, that knowledge of the Truth, of alchemy at the glance, cropping up in his mind again. Even from this distance he could see: the collagen, marrow, endosteum, periosteum, the long hollowed out blood vessels.

Bone. He could see the horrible, white bone as clear as day. The bone of a jaw as real as the one in his new container and the teeth lodged into it, except this new one missed one of the front canines.

But—but Father had said many times that he had no bones, that his shadow merely replicated them to keep his container in the shape of a human. What was this- those- how could-? Father could never be wrong about anything, but then…how could Pride possibly explain what was right in front of him, what he couldn't try to subvert in any way? Despite how pure and white it seemed, he could see the weathering; cracked and fragile and undeniably ancient, perhaps even…older than his container? At least as old as he had had possession of his container, which was impossible since Father made it just for him…

He might have not been there to watch Father making it but …Father would never lie to him…

The cracks deepened with a weak sort of snap, and following the thick plumes of dust that was once his container scattering over the floor, the worn little bones crumbled into a finer grey powder too. They didn't dissolve, they just…settled there in a pile like ash, mixing in sooty pools with the bits of his container yet to disintegrate. That wasn't supposed to happen; not at all. It had to dissolve, it needed to! It was only one bone, one insignificant bone. What did it matter? The ever widening cavity in his container's face spread further, down to the neck, and another expanse of white peeked out, long and thin and stretching down, down, down beneath his flattening clothes. It was made from – calcium collagen cartilage - a spinal cord…but that was—

With what strength he could muster in his new container, Pride curled himself up, coiling tightly. He didn't want to see it anymore, and how could he? To let himself continue to question things he had no right to question. That whispering, worrying thought grew bolder, wispily tugging at the part of his mind that he seldom thought about until it creaked open. And oh how he remembered it; that thing, that horrible thing that mustn't ever have come out- that he'd kept locked away so tightly for so long… Pride couldn't even hide or shy away because there was nothing he could do anymore to try and deny it.

A human; it had always been a human. He cringed and shivered even at the sound of it. He had stolen it for himself, the body of a human wretch no one could miss, as his container… And he had chosen to do something so humiliating again, only moments before…

Pride curled a little tighter, and let the unbearable shame of it swallow him whole.