Sketch
S J Smith
Disclaimer: I have not now, nor have I ever been, Hiromu Arakawa (I just play her on TV).
Written for libraryofwinds prompt, "draw."
Summary: Ed can't draw worth a lick.
Rating: K.
A.N.: Ed's POV, after that (fill in the blank) movie. Yes, it is in second person POV. Live with it.
You think it should be easy. If you can inscribe perfect circles and symbols and runes, surely you should be able to draw but there's something you don't get. Maybe because art isn't a science, not the way alchemy is, and setting out an array is nothing at all like sketching a bridge or a flower or a face.
Particularly a face.
You raise your head, letting the sun beat against your skin, against your closed eyes and you take a deep breath full of the scents of flowers and spring. It's been three years, three, that magic number, since you left your home for the last time and you know, without a doubt, you're never going home again. And most days you're all right with it. Most days, you don't think that somewhere, there's another world that you should, rightfully, be a part of.
At least, not until your little brother reminds you of the date with a sad little smile and you realize, with a jolt, that you'd almost forgotten the way the corners of her eyes crinkled when she laughed and how her mouth moved when she yelled at you and that scent, like metallic lilacs, that drifted around her and around you when you were with her.
A pencil broken, an eraser thrown, a page crumpled and your memories are realized in this – your good right hand; your good left leg; your brother by your side. She saved you, more than once, with her own alchemy of mechanics and metals and wires to make up parts of you, with words to point you on your path, with her own sheer belief in you, even when you thought to give up.
No matter where you go, she's in you.
She's a part of you both.
It's just up to you to make good on her memory.