Inspired by The Things They Carried, a story about soldiers in Vietnam.
The Things They Carried
Each of the soldiers bore unique burdens- trinkets, tokens, favors, mementos- and each of these burdens bore their own unique heft.
The alchemists, majors, bore a common burden: their pocket watches- their leash, collar and dog tags all in one, the dangling chain a constant reminder to them and those around them that they were dogs of the state. "Don't forget- 3 Oct. 1910" was Ed's unique burden, the date he burned down their home and left forever, engraved into the common responsibility of the watch. Al was also his burden – it was Ed's fault he was the way he was. That was the worst burden of all.
Al carried the burden of his heavy, empty, unfeeling body wherever he went. Though his body was huge and intimidating to some, it concealed a key weakness – his blood seal. If someone thought to erase his blood seal, it would mean the end of Alphonse Elric – forever. The simple pleasures most people took for granted – the taste or scent of a favorite meal, the aroma of a bouquet or the hours before it started raining, or the soft touch of a loved one were denied him. Though it seemed at first that it was merely one burden he carried, this burden entailed the weight of misery.
Hughes carried his camera everywhere he went, brandishing it like a weapon or a shield. In reality, it was both – as a soldier, he ran the risk of losing any one of his friends at any time, and the photographs served as a way to keep his friends alive and close to him in some small way. He never wanted to suddenly lose them, and then have no record they'd ever lived at all. That would be the worst.
Roy carried his gloves, white with red transmutation circles. They were similar to Hughes' camera in the sense that they were a shield and a weapon, but different as gloves served to keep people away, rather than drawing them closer together. Roy, as a colonel and fairly high in rank, saw just as many or even more friends/acquaintances die as Hughes, and knew that getting too close to them could only serve to cause unnecessary pain. If he didn't know what kind of person they were, it might hurt less to be responsible for their deaths.
Riza carried her gun. The cold, shiny metal reflected her fear and stood between her and her foes- the precisely aimed bullets usually guaranteed victory over her fears. The gun was her weapon, her shield, her security blanket, always ready for her, waiting faithfully at her hip. If something went wrong with her gun, it was always her fault - whether it was bad maintenance, or the gun wasn't loaded. It lent a strange sense of control to her life, knowing she held such responsibility for her life and for the lives of those close to her.
Each of the soldiers bore unique burdens- trinkets, tokens, favors, mementos- and each of these burdens bore their own unique heft. Each burden the soldiers carried had different emotional worth, and each burden weighed differently on the consciousnesses of the soldiers. Their burdens made them alike, and made them unique. Their burdens made them human.