Aalim crouched over his small desk, papers scattered around the small roof as explosions and gunfire sounded in the distance. As he wrote notes on one paper, he sketched alchemic circles on another paper, occasionally reaching forward to flip the pages of a book centered between the two pages. He was lucky to be ambidextrous and having such an innate ability to multitask.
His brother often teased him about his ambidexterity, (often in the form of lewd jokes that he himself would never repeat aloud, especially in front of their parents, or worse, their teacher) but he supposed it was fair after he had excelled at playing the piano in secondary school, while his brother, who had desperately wanted to be as smart as Aalim, completely failed to play the Amestrian instrument (he would later console him and tell him to pursue more athletic hobbies so that he could be the talented athletic brother while he could be the talented religious scholar as his name suggested, claiming that they would be unstoppable, before the two worked together to win a game of tag at recess).
He teasingly told Aashir that jealousy didn't suit him anyways, to which his brother flicked him on the ear.
He recalled how when Aashir had started training in the martial arts, how he had seemed so alive. Like his name suggested: 'Living.'
But now as he peered out the dark window, he feels as if everything is so very dead here. The silence, aside from the warring in the distance, caused by the fear of the Ishvalan people of leaving their homes. They knew they would be next, but there was close to nothing they could do. They were trapped in their little town by Amestrian military men and all they could do was wait for the alchemists to come and slaughter them in their homes.
He continued to diligently scratch at the paper with a pencil even as he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. The only people who would be coming in to see him would either be his brother or the Amestrians. He barely glanced back as his brother sat beside him on the floor. "Aalim? It's nearly morning. You should get some sleep." Aalim shook his head viciously. "I have to finish this. The Amestrian alchemists are almost here. We can't afford for all of this to come down to nothing," Aalim protested, even as his brother tugged on his arm in an attempt to get him to stop. "Come. Once you are rested, you will be able to think more clearly about your research. If your work isn't as accurate as possible, it will lead to nothing. Just sleep a couple of hours. The Amestrians won't be here for a while. We have time." Aashir placed a hand on his brother's shoulder.
Aalim sighed in defeat. "Only a few hours. They will be here soon and we need to be ready." He stood with his brother as the slightly taller man lead him out of his study.
As soon as they were in their shared room, Aashir kneeled beside the bed in prayer, while his brother collapsed in the same bed. "Brother?"
Aalim rolled his shoulders and folded his arms above his head as he stared at the ceiling. "Prayed every night to a religion that was chosen for me," He mumbled softly as his brother stared at him in confusion. "Ishvala's eyes will be cast away from me if I can successfully use alchemy tomorrow. I don't see why a night's prayer can't be skipped. And I'm tired," Aalim explained to his brother, who nodded and got up without finishing prayer. "Then perhaps Ishvala can wait until tomorrow for me as well." They smiled softly at each other.
They were dead. He was too late. But his brother was still breathing. There was a chance he could live. And he would give anything for his brother. His love, his life, his arm.