Envy lay sprawled on the hard wood floor of his room. At only a hundred years old he still looked twenty. He woke from a light sleep and propped his head on a hand, pushing his fallen head band back onto his forehead. So much time, so little to do… He thought idly. His room was scattered with bits and pieces that held no meaning. He picked up a large fallen knife and dragged it across the floor, easily making a deep groove. He drew a transmutation circle and traced it over again with his finger. He couldn't do alchemy.
Dante said it was because he wasn't human.
But then again….
Envy slammed the knife into the middle of the circle, making the wood splinter.
Dante said a lot of things.
He glared at the knife as if all his anger was caused by its being there. Then he let out a sigh. He got upset easily these days. Boredom did that to him.
He pulled the knife out and absentmindedly slid it across his thumb. He watched the blood appear before he healed over, but not before dripping some onto the floor. Dante always preached how he couldn't feel. But he could. He could feel the pain of the knife cutting into his skin. Pain was his least favorite sensation but he hurt himself on purpose every now and again to assure himself she was wrong.
He could feel anger. And hate. And loneliness. And jealously. That was his name right? The sin he embodied? Envy…
He dragged the knife across the floor again, making random slashes and groves in it. This existence would be meaningless if it weren't for his father. I suppose he's good for something. He's the only reason I haven't just gone insane by now…Dwelling on his hate always kept him sane. It kept him focused. The only reason he had left to stay alive and to push forward was to kill Hoenhiem. And to Envy, that was all that really mattered. Not Dante and her pathetic search for the stone and not for personal pleasure of living. No…
Envy licked his lips and smiled at the very thought of it. To kill Hoenhiem. In the end, that was what he lived for.