yeah, i kno i already started a different one tht needs finishing, but i couldnt hold this one in.
Ed: Figures! U cant finish anything!
shut it, shorty!
Ed: I AM NOT SHORT!
Al: No, brother! *grabs Ed*
thx, Al!
Mustang: Learn to accept the fact, Fullmetal. Yer just a pipsqueak!
Ed: COME HERE AND SAY THAT TO MY FACE, I DARE YA!
*chuckles nervously while fight starts* Plz, enjoy!
"How to Paint A Rose:
Chapter One;
It Can't Be Helped"
It was just another day to her! The same girl with the purplish-red hair, smooth, creamy skin, and fierce amber eyes wearing the same mid-hem black skirt, with a white blouse, a red sweater-vest, white socks, and black flats as her school uniform. Yes, this was the average day for Obsidia Rein; you're average tenth grader, with her uncle being the Ash Crafter Alchemist (made up), Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc, and her grandfather being the powerful Gerald Rein.
Obsidia was an orphan, and her grandfather took her in before her uncle could object; they weren't good being in-laws. She would see her uncle on vacations, and on every other weekend, so you could imagine how used to trains she was.
If anything, she'd rather live with her uncle, and never see Gerald again. The man would beat her often, especially when her skill proved not useful; her art skill.
Drawing, painting, sketching, you name it! She was a practical artist, with the imagination only a someone turning thirteen would have. It was rather dark, sometimes, but she didn't care. The characters she drew, painted, etc, were her own, and she adored each one.
"Obsidia!" Her teacher called. Mr. Rengalli, was a science teacher for an advanced class, teaching them about the most advanced science known; alchemy. He had short blue locks, and slate like eyes to go with his dark skin. He was currently wearing a black suit, with a white tie.
Obsidia, sitting in her last block class of the day; a green walled room, and blue tiled floor, with only a few windows, was looking down at her art journal, once again, drawing one of her characters. "Obsidia!" The teacher called, impatiently. Whenever she was doing work, she was normally so distracted that she would ignore everything that was happening around her, just like she was right now. "Miss Rein!" He called, irritated.
Obsidia looked up, a bit startled by the call. "Yes?" She asked, dully. She was easy at hiding most emotions, except for her annoyance, hatred, and when it really mattered to her, happiness.
"I called you three times already! Care to repeat what I just told to the class?" He questioned.
She straightened herself up, putting her pencil down. "Our project is due next week, homework is the questions on page 87 of our textbooks, and you suggested that we all head to your review class for the finals that are coming next month. You also said that page 193 gives us some good study material, but you'd prefer to see us in you're review class. After which, you started calling me." She replied in her dull, dark voice. The class laughed at her being her ass-filled self. Okay, she doesn't completely ignore her surroundings.
Her reflexes were still sharp, so she couldn't be surprised easily, and her ears were trained so that she could hear the class at the other side of the large building if she wanted to. Bottom line, she was both smug, and very neutral.
Her grandfather made sure of that! She had to get used to it. Obsidia would often get beaten by him whenever she disobeyed, and old man Gerald wanted her in the house, working on paintings so he could receive even more money, and he can't handle that with her off on her own. It didn't matter how much she bitched, moaned, and complained, anyways, it was his way, or the dark room he'd always put her in when her attitude was too sharp for his liking.
The bell rang, ending school. As usual, she took her time picking up her things; she's not anxious on getting home, especially when she's at home for a straight two days before going to Central to see her uncle. "Miss Rein, could I speak to you for a moment?" Her teacher asked, politely.
She never really paid all that much attention to him, but him being polite was rare, so, naturally, she was a little curious as to what he wanted, and nodded. When the class dispersed from the room, he shut the door, and pulled a spare chair beside his desk. "What is this about, Mr. Rengalli?" She asked, standing firmly in front of his desk.
He waved a finger at her, a small smirk on his face. "Now, Miss Rein, after the bell rings, it's John!" She seemed a little surprised with his sudden change in mood. "Sit down, and we'll talk." He told her, pointing his thumb at the chair next to his desk. Confused, and curious, she sat down next to him. "Obsidia, there are a couple problems we need to discuss!" He said, with a troubled look on his face.
She was still lost. "Like?" Her dark voice making a slight innocent tone. She was never called out by teachers before, so it made sense if she could be dumbfounded at some moments.
He sighed. "Well, first of all, there's you actually. I know you get done with your work early, but I don't understand why you don't try working on the work you owe, but instead, you doodle." He stated.
"I don't doodle,...I create." She stated, going through her bag, and bringing out her journal. John opened the journal, and stared at it, quite surprised.
On the first page, he saw a sketch of a boy wearing a black skirt, braces on his ankles, and wrists, along with a black top with no sleeves, and showed his stomach, not to mention the headband her wore, with an upside down triangle, with dotted points. He was a scrawny boy, that's for sure, and he looked barely any older than herself. On the back of his thigh, there was a strange tattoo, but it was what else he was seeing.
The boy had his legs, and left arm in a frog's position, but in his hand was a knife with a a liquid on it, that he could only assume to be blood, for the background was in an alleyway, with two state alchemists on the ground, with dead shocked expressions on their faces. The boy was shot in the arms, and once in the head, and he seemed to be healing, even with blood trailing down his limbs, and his face, and as a bonus, the look on his face was pure evil. His smirk was of sweet malice, and his eyes held the sense of a murderer; hatred, madness, and insanity.
John paused his shock when his noticed a word at the bottom left corner of the page, and her signature at the right corner. "Envy?" He questioned, staring at her. She nodded. "You were working on this?" He asked, staring at the page.
"That I was working on when I was five, and finished it when I was six and a half. Would have been earlier, if I didn't find other inspirations. I've always considered that the title of the peace because it was the only thing I could think of." She explained as he flipped through the pages.
He stared at her. "Well, it's good to see you have a hobby, but can't this wait?"
"Not with 'grandpa' calling the shots." She explained, making hand quotes. The most she'd call him was an old bastard.
"Well, there's something else. I'm concerned that you have no friends to be around. You come here straight from home, you do your best, you don't sit with anybody, and you head straight home. Haven't you ever tried to make friends?" He asked.
Now, he was a councilor; she wasn't really a big fan of them. "Yes, but the old bastard did something to ensure I can't even talk to a girl. It made me annoyed. It brought on new things, with that, thus making envy my life; that's what I've lived by. And with envy, comes other things, all considered a sin." She finished.
"Have you reasoned with him?" He asked.
She scoffed, standing up, and taking her journal off his desk. "Oh, please! There is no reasoning with that man!" She claimed in disgust, walking her way to the door.
"Obsidia!" He called. She stopped short, just reaching the door handle, and looking over her shoulder with an ere reaching the room that spilled the annoying question: 'what?' "You don't just have to draw those! If you try to reason with others, it can bring new inspiration."
She smirked; a hand to her hip, and a chuckle escaping her mouth. "Mr. Rengalli, I know you won't understand, but the things I draw in this journal can't help but be made. I haven't a clue why, but I feel like these figures I draw are the only things that will ever know me." She walked out, slowly, leaving her teacher pretty dumbstruck.
"What does she mean?" He wondered.
Night is upon the town of Central, and deep in the Homunculi Lair, we see a restless homunculus shifting back and forth in his black sheeted bed. The room was dreary. The walls were of a lighter shade of black, and the carpeting was gray, and the only light came from a window seat with dark green curtains to its sides, moonlight pooling through the bare window.
The homunculus had long green locks, and pale skin. Most of what you could see for what he was wearing was a black headband with a red, upside down triangle with dotted points, black braces on his wrists, and a black sleeveless shirt. He was very scrawny, and with each new position, he grew angrier, and more frustrated.
Finally, he jolted up, eyes wide open, revealing a purple color. The shirt cut itself off at the boy's abdomen down to his waist. Right then was where a skirt was visual.
He began to breath deeply, and hesitantly. He felt odd, that's for sure, and sleep for him wasn't really all that easy, no matter how many times he adjusted the bed, changed the sheets, pillows, and/or mattress. He was always restless no matter what, but quite frankly, he got used to it.
It had started almost eleven years before hand, and he had gotten used to it, but his attitude didn't, and with each restless night he didn't have to go out, he was getting even more angry, and envious towards the seven that could.
His door opened, and in the doorway was a succulent woman with very dark brown, almost black hair, pale skin, red cat-like eyes, and lips of a grand purple. She was wearing a long, dark purple night gown, cut at the shoulders, and draping down, showing off her brest, which held an odd tattoo. "Again, Envy?" She asked.
"What's it to you?" Envy spat at her.
"Again, Lust?" Another boy asked, rubbing his eye. He seemed older, with spiked brown hair, tanned skin, and red eyes. He was more built up than Envy, and he currently wore black pants, and a dark blue sweater.
"Afraid so, Greed." Lust admitted, ashamed of the fact.
Greed shook his head. "Abomination, get some sleep already! It's been, what? Ten years since you last slept sound?" He questioned, annoyed.
"Almost eleven." Envy growled out, trying his best to resist the urge to attack, even if he knew it was useless to try.
"Ya don't say?" Greed asked, arching a brow. Envy nodded, despite his mood; he was too tired to care. "What the hell is keeping you up?" He asked.
"We checked for everything that would, and even went through several bed sets trying to find out." Lust told him.
Greed smirked. "Maybe he's lonely, and needs a stuffed animal to cuddle with." He suggested. This gave him a dagger to the head. If not for what they were, Envy would've killed him at that moment. Greed smirked, removing Envy's favorite weapon when he's annoyed. "I know. Not helping!" He sighed out. "But seriously, though! What is your problem?" Greed asked, crossing his arms, almost sounding concerned, but more or less annoyed.
Envy got up, and moved to the window seat, and sitting down, staring out over the city. You could see the black braces around his ankles, and a strange tattoo on the back of his thigh. Why was he tired? He didn't have a problem until eleven years before, so why was he tired, now? He didn't even know what it was that was agitating him, and even if he did, the problem never went away.
"I don't know!" He answered, gritting his teeth, and tightening his hands into fists on his thighs. "I just can't help it! It started without any apparent reason." He answered. Lust and Greed turned towards each other, just as confused as the tired homunculus, then stared at him. The guy was practically glaring out at nothing. "But what I wouldn't to be able to again." He muttered.
Greed didn't hear it, but Lust heard it loud and clear. She looked at the sin in curiosity, and confusion. Something was obviously wrong with him, the question was what, and what to do about it?
hope u liked it!
Ed: Interesting start, I guess...
Al: I wonder what this has to do with it.
Hawkeye: Too bad! None of us get to know until the next chapter!
xactly! Mustang, u mind doing the disclaimer?
Mustang: Sure! *clears throat* Kumerai-sama only owns the story plot, and her OCs. Fullmetal Alchemist, and all of its characters belongs to the author: Hiromu Arakawa, and to whatever company produces it on TV, and/or publishes the manga.
idk which ones, i never really payed attention!
Mustang: Also, keep in mind, that if some of the sins are a bit OOC, please explain in a calm form, for this is Kumerai's first time using them in a fanfic, and yes! She's read the manga, and seen some of the anime.
thx Mustang! Plz, listen to the disclaimer; I am serious about the Homunculi, but try my best. Well, hope u've enjoyed, and until the nxt chap...
Everyone: Later!