A woman weeping in despair says, "He has been here."
"No Bravery" by James Blunt
Cries are heard from below her station, and she covers her ears out of reaction. Explosions beyond compare dance across her vision, and she closes her eyes. Laughter is echoing across the battlefield and she flinches. She knows his voice, she knows his motives.
"Music," he once told her. Music in explosions.
She feels tears slip down her eyes, them stinging beyond compare. More dust and more screams and more laughs. More and more.
The sounds of bullets leaving their guns accompany the symphony of terror, the screams, the explosions. Her knees shake, and if she was standing she would have fallen over. Never would Riza Hawkeye, someone with a bright future and great ambitions, see herself in such a situation, near breaking at the seams, her solid, ice-cold composure breaking in the middle of a civil war. She was supposed to open up a nice shop down in the town near her home. She was supposed to find a man with blue eyes and dimples at a coffee shop and have a cliché love story - dancing under the stars, kissing in the rain, him proposing down on one knee with a brilliant diamond ring.
Never would she would be here, killing innocent people, hearing explosions, hearing him surround her.
Because if it wasn't for her father, she wouldn't have the displeasure of meeting Solf J. Kimblee, another alchemist.
Because if it wasn't for Solf J. Kimblee, she wouldn't recoil at the sound of laughter among death.
Because if it wasn't for death, she wouldn't have nightmares of blood spattered on her hands, unable to be washed off with water - with life.
She blames Kimblee, though he doesn't care.
No one cares, she tells herself. Because if they did, they wouldn't be stationed in the middle of Ishval, killing their people.
He doesn't care.
The ruthless Crimson Alchemist doesn't care.
With his ice blue eyes that saw Death and laughed in his face, with his tattooed hands that create the basic unit of destruction he can use to his leisure, with his wicked grin that is arrogant and self-confident, with his hearty voice as he laughs at the dying victims in front of him.
He doesn't care.
Her cries of terror are muffled with the cries of the dying Ishvalans and the laughing alchemist.
Author's Note:
...
This is really dark holy crap