Angel's Punishment
by: IMBSA
IMBSA: OK, this is angsty, so those of you who know me solely from "The Logic of a Child" and are expecting this to be funny...Leave. Now. This isn't very humorous, but if that doesn't deter you.…Brave souls.…
Disclaimer: "If the enemy is in range, then so are you."
IMBSA: It's been done before, but, you know. The song is "Angel's Punishment" by the kick-ass Italian rock band Lacuna Coil.
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Destruction—War
Sometimes Roy Mustang thought he was going insane, during those dark days in Ishbal. He would wonder why he was there, what had taken place that had forced the unfortunate souls that, included him, into this desert hell.
To fight in defense
Forgotten words
Of friendly hate
He would remember soon enough: diplomacy wasn't sufficient to soothe the rabid beast that reared when one of its offsprings was killed. Nothing was enough it seemed, but fighting to the death, and sometimes even that did not bring the closure the soldiers sought.
He had no illusions that he was the only one hurting—he had seen the pain and destruction the war wrought in their own fighters, like the blonde sniper he had witnessed throwing everything except her own insides up into the unforgiving sand. It just seemed to his idealist's heart that he was the only one who cared, the only one who wanted a different end than the merciless slaughter of an entire people.
I don't know why
A soul deceased
A broken hope
A choking breeze
He had no illusions about the military or the "glory" of battle now, at any rate. He wasn't even supposed to fighting, he didn't want to, he merely wanted the study of what had become his lifeline, the very thing that had become what kept him from death at the hands of an attacking Ishbalan.
Can't you take me away from all your lies
Sometimes he thought he would choke on the bile of self-hate and apprehension and regret that rose in his throat. Somehow he felt he would be better off for it if he just gave in and died, suffocated on the fumes of his own wretchedness. He was unable to take the scenes that awaited him in combat, unable to go on if he was forced to take another life.
War—destruction
Dark Paradise
Collecting souls
To analyze
But this was war and whether he wanted to or not, he would be forced to do whatever task his superiors were contented in thrusting upon him. Usually it involved taking a life, or perhaps several. And he could do so with but a snap of his fingers. They would be dead, their blood on his hands, and he would be that much closer to earning a shiny medal that served only to remind him of his shame.
The bitter blood
Of children's cry
Inside the truth
Far from my sky
Nothing but these thoughts and musings from a man that was not a poet filled his head as he fought, coupled with the concern for his fellow soldiers, for the men standing at his side to protect him as he did what he did best, for the sniper who had to learn to school her stomach and was providing backup from the air. While he was preoccupied with regret, he knew he could never protect these people, those who aided him, and that thought made his belly clench and roll as even his insanity could not.
So he focused on the men and women beside him and the pain subsided to a dull throb in his heart; a veil was placed over everything except his allies, and he could forget for a moment about the blood being spilt, about the bodies, torn and burned, that fell.
War—destruction
War—destruction
Can't you take me away from your lies
Then his opponent would be reduced to ashes and his well of guilt entrenched within him got that much deeper.
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IMBSA: That went slightly off course than I thought, but whatever. If I get any details wrong, please forgive me. If it was horrible, I'm sorry, I'm just…high right now or something. R&R! And be nice or else I'll sic my warm fuzzies on you, and believe you me, after living with me, they're downright vicious. :clutches a fuzzy to her chest protectively: