Maybe I'm getting the hang of this schedule thing. Writing from Rosalie's POV is still kinda tricky, but hey, she gets some more scenes here!

Birds of a Feather

Chapter Three

No oversleeping today. She couldn't keep staying up all night worrying about that, especially given the occasion. And now, having managed a full night's rest, Rosalie woke with the dawn, or more accurately, the time when the sun rose high enough to reach over the wall of Central Command. Whatever orange and yellow filtered in was quickly swallowed in shade, and she turned the little bell alarm on her bedside clock off early. Five to nine.

Her pattering footsteps echoed along the quiet mansion corridors. The little girl tiptoed her way out of her own room, down the still confusing hallways, and along to Selim's room. Her bare feet stuck to the cool, polished floor, and for a minute she wished she'd put her socks on beforehand, or brought her slippers from home. It was a relief to find Selim's door unlocked and land on the soft carpet.

Slowly now, Rosalie hopped up onto his bed, and jumped up and down on the mattress. Sure, Selim had been very polite in waking her the day before, but she couldn't waste time on a day like this, especially since he was gonna show her his amazing football skills.

"Wake up, Selim, it's New Year's Eve! Gotta wake up, so we can stay up 'til midnight!"

Selim did not move an inch beneath his cover. Rosalie hopped for a while longer before she realised the vastness of Selim's bed negated any of her bouncing.

"Wake. Up!" She bounced closer, but he did not stir, quiet and still like a doll. Rosalie knelt down, and settled for snatching his cover off him. For a moment he didn't react, until his fingers twitched the slightest bit, and his breath seemed more deliberate. Yep, definitely awake now.

"Huh… Rosalie? Why did you…?" Selim grumbled without opening his eyes, and pulled his knees up further to his chest. "I was having a nice dream…" His hands curled loose around something she couldn't quite make out, though one inched lower, feeling around for the quilt.

"C'mon, get up! It's time for breakfast, and then – more importantly – football!"

"Did it snow?" He whispered, his eyes still closed.

"Erm," She stole a glance over at the drawn curtains. "I think it's kinda cloudy right now." At that moment it seemed their wishes for sun and snow combined, and the sounds of a sudden and torrential downpour seeped in. "Oh… never mind."

"Then it's not time for football. Let me sleep some more…" The boy rolled over, sighing. He left behind whatever he'd been holding, and Rosalie leant closer to inspect it properly. The thing ticked back at her. Oh.

"Why'd you fall asleep holding that?"

Selim's eyes snapped open, as if just remembering the clock at his side. He pushed himself up, legs crossed.

"Oh." He turned away and stared off at some spot on the wall, forcing the words out, slow, like he was embarrassed to even say them. "Last New Year's Eve, my step-father played a trick on me. He turned all the clocks in the house forward three hours, so I ended up missing New Years! I won't let that happen again, so I hid the clock, and this one, too-" Selim leant over to the drawer in his end table, and pulled out a long silver chain. Oh, it was a pocket watch. He pressed it open and checked the time. "They're both the same time still, so Father hasn't sneaked in and changed either one of them."

"You don't have to worry, my clock said it's nine o'clock, too, so I think it's right. Keeping a clock like that… you aren't a crocodile, silly!" She giggled.

"How do you know? Maybe I am." Selim said with a drowsy smirk as he stretched to lay the clock back onto the end table. "Fine, I'll get up, but tomorrow I'm sleeping in, ok?"

Rosalie nodded, knowing she'd probably want to oversleep after going to bed past midnight, as well, and left Selim to get ready.

"Ooh, look at this! If we can't play real football, then how about this?" Rosalie said as she bent so far she nearly fell into Selim's toy chest, grasping the box at the bottom.

They'd taken Selim's toys into a spare room, one closer to the middle of the mansion where the sounds of the gloomy rain couldn't get in. One by one they dug through and played with anything and everything they came across in Selim's toy chest. Once or twice Rosalie considered fetching her book that Mrs. Bradley suggested they read, but this newest distraction took her mind off it for the time being.

Rosalie held the box up for Selim, flashing the smiling family on the front holding the straws. He scanned over the cover.

"Blow Football? I don't think I've ever played with this."

Rosalie set out the wires that served as the goals and the tin men for goalkeepers on top of the box they came in. She handed Selim one of the wide straws and placed the ball in the centre of the board.

"I'll be fun."

The floor proved to be far too low to play a game like this effectively, and in the end the two ended up stretching out on their stomachs and sitting up on their elbows. The funny angle made it difficult to breathe, but Rosalie told herself that the handicap would make the game more exciting, and maybe give her a chance of winning.

After five minutes, and at a horrendous 2 – 9, Rosalie grew more than a little frustrated. She hadn't expected to win, but the way Selim acted like he wasn't even trying. He seemed distracted, eyelids sagged, bored, and his rounded cheeks barely deflated at all no matter how long he breathed for.

Screwing her eyes shut, she blew as hard as she could, sending the ball skittering through the goal, off the 'pitch' and into a stack of boxes in the corner.

"Oops. I'll get it."

Rosalie shuffled towards the corner where it fell, feeling around for any sign of it, and her hand met only empty stretches of carpet. This made no sense; she had seen where it had landed. How could it have vanished in the time it had taken her to reach it?

"I can't see it anywhere." She sighed.

"Oh no, we lost it. Guess we can't play." Selim said blandly, and she could tell he was rolling his eyes. Rosalie huffed; she couldn't just let the game remain unplayable forever over one lost piece, even if it didn't seem like he wanted to play it anymore.

She continued to lift up each storage box as much as she could, though one brought a striped – and thankfully empty – hat box sliding onto her. Rosalie yelped more in surprise, while behind her she heard Selim coughing. Maybe the dust from moving all these boxes was getting to him.

As little more than a flicker, the ball shot out from wherever it'd been hiding, struck the wall opposite and rolled back into the middle of the room. Selim stopped coughing, and she crawled back to him, staring at the ball.

"What? How'd it do that?"

"Maybe it was magic." The boy brushed it off with a shrug. How could he just accept something like that without being the tiniest bit curious? Then again, if he'd been so busy coughing he might have not noticed what the ball did.

"No, there has to be some real explanation. I've seen some very strange things back at home, you know, so this can't be anything stranger."

"Strange things? Like what? From Mr. Jude?" Selim sat straighter, as ever curious of her servant and his alchemy. A little stab of guilt pricked at her. She wished she could tell him, but Mother had sent her here to spare her feelings, so she shouldn't involve him in it.

"N-No, from Mr. Edward and Mr. Alphonse when they visited my house." She started to explain about Mr. Alphonse being empty inside, but figured someone like Selim, who idolised the brothers, already knew that. "Jude hasn't been able to show me stuff lately. He's been…busy." Rosalie turned away, trying to not think about it.

"That's too bad." Selim looked back at the ball for a moment. "But hey, I can show you something cool!"

"Oh, like a magic trick?" She asked.

"Yeah! Can I borrow your teddy, and, hm, that hat box?"

Rosalie handed them to him, sitting a ways off to give him room. Who knew what kinda trick he was gonna do?

The boy cleared his throat, waving around his Blow Football straw as if it were a magic wand. He looked much like a real magician in his dark grey jacket and shorts.

"I shall make our nice volunteer, Mr. Teddy Bear, disappear." He said as he placed the bear into the box, fitted the lid onto it and set it on his lap. Rosalie watched as he took several long breaths, closing his eyes. Was he thinking of what to do, or was it just part of the trick?

Wearily, his eyes opened again, but they seemed different somehow, faded and cloudy.

"E-Erm…hm…" He tapped the straw against the lid."Lapis philosophorum… evanescet ursus..."

"Ooh, Xerxian, fancy!" Rosalie said, and pretended to keel over. Some of Jude's alchemy books mentioned the old legend about Xerxes. Everyone in the whole country mysteriously died overnight, or so the story went. She grinned lopsided from on her side, admiring the fact that Selim knew enough of ancient language to be using them instead of magic words.

A kind of peculiar pressure settled in the air, suddenly very tense and serious in a way. It pressed down on her, and the girl found herself shivering a little. It must have been excitement, not fear. How could she be frightened over something like a magic trick? How silly. Rosalie grinned some more. Even if it was just some trick, Selim's determination made it seem real.

Selim lifted the lid and held the box open for her to see, and sure enough, the box was empty. Rosalie gasped and clapped lightly.

"He's gone completely, see?"

"Please make him come back." She pleaded, partly to play along, and partly because she couldn't be losing her new teddy after less than a day, after all.

Through his dull and droopier eyes Selim shifted, stiffly, like he was uncomfortable. Maybe his legs had gone dead again from kneeling down for so long. Or, he could be trying to distract her from the trick, so Rosalie tried to ignore it and focused on the box. The box quivered, almost unnoticeably, making some of its black stripes look like they were shaking, too.

"Lapis philosophorum…ursi redire!"

More suddenly it had appeared, the strange tension melted away, and Selim perked up with it, his eyes bright and shining again. He leant close and tipped the box up, the teddy bear toppling out and into her lap.

"Tada! Mr. Bear is back, safe and well from his trip to nowhere."

"That was amazing!" Rosalie gasped a second time, covering her mouth. "I don't know how you did it."

"And you never will." Selim crossed his arms, beaming with a smug satisfaction. "But I knew you'd be impressed. Better than boring old blow football, right?" He said, already standing to dig out something else to play with, and Rosalie couldn't help but agree.

"Ok, you can come back in now!"

They called, and Pride stepped back into the parlour, seeing them in their huddle in the seats clustered around the fire.

Rosalie padded forward and stuck the card to his forehead, whatever object that they'd chosen written on it. For some reason her own card – marked Deer – still clung to her headband, like she'd forgotten about it.

Inside, Pride's endless rows of teeth chattered mutely, shifting under his skin. Even though it was hours ago now, his understated use of his shadows for his little 'magic show' had unsettled him a tad, and Pride longed to nestle in bed where he could relax, stretch out and sprawl himself over everything. His true body tore teasing bites out of the remnants of dinner, savouring the faint taste. Pride hoped there was enough turkey left for Mother to make them sandwiches tomorrow.

For the moment though, he had to play, and given the occasion this was not one of the most unpleasant of things. He let the small human lead him to the front of the fireplace, where he could continue this game of 'Yes and No'.

He looked up at the clock on the mantelpiece – half eleven. Wrath would not send him away this time.

"Am I the Tiny Alchemist?" He asked.

"No!" They all said, as if they'd anticipated such from him.

"Am I a person?"

"No." Wrath said.

"Do I live in Central?"

The trio exchanged some glances, as if unsure of what they'd selected.

"…yes."

"Do I live in Central Zoo?" Of course, a place he could never go.

"No."

"Do I have feathers?"

"No."

"Do I have sharp teeth?"

"Yes."

"Do I walk on four legs?"

"No."

"Do I walk on two legs?"

"No."

Pride took a moment to consolidate the information. Apparently it was something that wasn't a bird, nor quadrupedal or bipedal, with sharp teeth and that lived in Central. He could think only of a snake, since they could live in the outskirts, but snakes had fangs rather than teeth. Then… what…

Oh.

The homunculus grimaced a little – passing it off as a determined pondering – dreading that Wrath had chosen the ouroboros to spite him. Mother and Rosalie may not know what it meant, but such a strange creature was bound to lead to questions, especially from an over-imaginative child like Rosalie.

"Am I—er…" He would not say it. Wrath could not make him say it. "A…dragon?"

Again the three of them whispered amongst each other.

"We'll let you have that one, dear." Mother said.

Pride pried the card off his head and turned it over. The vaguely lion and dragon-esque insignia of Amestris was drawn crudely over it, its two front paws reared up as ever, tail coiled in a loop.

"We never said it was a real animal!" Rosalie laughed, but congratulated him on getting it right. She asked if she could get an 'almost midnight snack', and Mother allowing it, excused herself. Pride didn't really watch her leave, sitting on the couch adjacent from Mother and Wrath.

It seemed the parlour games were at an end, Mother now listening to some kind of late night radio drama on Radio Central, interspersed with reminders of how long remained until midnight.

Wrath poured out two measures of wine, handing one to her, and they clinked the glasses together with a pleasant sound. He watched them, detached.

"Hmm, well-aged, full bodied. Perfect." His little brother drawled after taking a sip, looking clinically down at the liquid, some drops caught in his moustache. "And the wine's not bad, either." He added with a wink, though given his eye patch, the slight difference between his winks and blinks went unnoticed by most.

"Oh, you, stop it." Mother waved off the flirtation with a laugh behind her glass, but Pride caught the pinking in her cheeks that wasn't just from the alcohol.

Pride glanced at his own glass of cool fruit juice. Of course, to the aging adults went the fermented fruit, and to the flighty, fresh-faced children went the fresh fruit juice. He thought of the still sealed 1662 vintage he kept in his true home, safe and hidden in Lust's room. They were all meant to share it after the Promised Day. They still would. He clung to that thought, and gulped his orange juice.

For now, he must be content with this.

Clink.

The quiet chime eased him from his bitter haze.

"Cheers, it's almost New Year!" Rosalie plonked down beside him, apparently back from her excursion to get something to eat.

"Cheers." He spotted the cheese pastry in her spare hand. "Cheese this late? You're gonna have nightmares." He warned her.

"I'll be ok…" She looked bashfully away, and bit into the pastry.

The electric light dimmed for a split second, while outside the lightning lit up the dark, dreary sky. The thunder followed a second or two later. It seemed the constant rain of the day beckoned a worse storm to come.

The girl tensed, flinching. When she saw he'd noticed, she feigned a childish pout, terribly fake even by Pride's standards.

"I wasn't afraid…!"

Mother ushered Rosalie closer with an offer to brush her hair, and beneath that a more oblique offer of comfort. Rosalie snuggled between them on the couch, watching the fire crackle and eventually chanced a giggle at their fawning. Mother just smiled her gentle smile, smoothing the girl's hair down as she combed through the more unruly strands. The three of them and their two and a half pairs of mossy, verdant eyes shone in the flickering firelight, identical from Pride's distance.

He observed them at a stranger ease compared to earlier. Perhaps Rosalie had started to settle in, no longer out of place among them, a proper houseguest. He watched her smiling and laughing. The girl's presence at their side seemed almost natural, even, as if she were actually their chil-

All at once her place among them stood as a barrier.

His own tinge of a more malicious green flared, it flashed across Pride's lilac eyes, and he stood abruptly, almost spilling his drink as he slammed the glass down. Rosalie winced at the noise, but Pride ignored her.

Not caring how he looked, he rushed onto Mother's lap, yearning to close this distance he felt. Pride's unique eyes that so few humans could hope to possess wedged between them, a very real, very physical difference, proving he wasn't her child, and he never would be. What did that matter, if she loved him regardless? It didn't matter; his perfect eyes did not invalidate that.

Pride wrapped his arms around her, all but forcing Rosalie away. Mother smelled of flour and plums, and a small round cake on the table stood as a testament to her baking that day, but she'd said they weren't to eat it yet for whatever reason.

"Now, Selim, there's room for all of us if we squeeze on, there's no need to push." Her voice was firm, and he accepted the light scolding readily, if only for the acknowledgement. His container's hands bunched up her shawl.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, and huddled beside her in a much more appropriate manner.

Five to eleven. Wrath's rough hand grasped his soft one, pulling him to his feet.

"Let's go, Selim."

"Huh? Where are we going?"

"We're needed outside. Let's leave the ladies to their business."

Rosalie and Mother waved them off, as if they knew what Wrath had planned.

"What are we doing?" Once they were out of earshot, the elder hissed at his sibling.

"As I said, we need to be outside before midnight. Besides, look at you, so jealous of our guest." Pride scowled in the dark, more out of shame that he had reacted enough for Wrath to notice. "Lucille is just being kind, as is her way. Do not punish her for being herself." Pride balked, his retort jamming in his throat as Wrath used Mother's first name, and said nothing else.

As they made their way to the kitchen, Pride calmed enough to realise their roles in the New Year tradition, specifically the concept of the first footing. Tradition stated it was good luck for the first person to enter the household in the New Year to be male and have black hair.

If Wrath hadn't so audaciously deceived him the year before, maybe he would have been more acquainted with the idea, having never participated in the New Year's ritual in any of his previous missions.

Now outside and holding their 'gifts', the two of them kept close to the wall and the covered walkway, lest they get caught in the downpour. Pride clutched the bottle of whiskey tight in his short arms, while Wrath held the coal, salt and a loaf of bread.

Given his burden, and confident it was past midnight by now, Pride waited for Wrath to knock on the front door.

"Who is it?" Came the cry from the other side.

"First visitors!" They cried back.

"How splendid. Do you have black hair?"

"And presents?" Rosalie added.

"Yes to both! May we come in?"

"Of course, of course!" They said. It reminded Pride of the myths of creatures who could not enter a human's house without permission. Such foolish ideas.

"We have cake, by the way! Smashed-door-cake!"

The door swung open, soft, yellow light streaming out and over them. Mother beamed at them, while Rosalie held up a tray holding the crumbled plum cake. Another tradition, Pride supposed.

"Happy New Year!" Rosalie shouted over the rain.

"Happy New Year!"

"Come in, dears."

The two homunculi managed grateful, sincere enough smiles, and they crossed the threshold together, out of the cold, damp storm and into warmth of their human home.

Finally.

The instant he heard Mother's footsteps fade down the hallway, Pride sat up in bed and turned his lamp on. No need to keep himself confined any longer.

His shadows burst from his container, crawling over the walls and soaking up the lamplight. Pride formed several mouths as he stretched, teeth gleaming as they opened wide and shook, something no one could ever distinguish between a silent roar or a yawn, letting them shift through his shadow.

Pride's container slumped down into the mattress in its disuse, eyes glazed and empty, mouth gaping. It looked dopey that way, and he eased it into a more comfortable position with a few more hands. Their razor-sharp edges did not so much as leave a mark against its perfect, artificial skin as he brushed its eyelids closed. There, only sleeping now. Content with its new place, Pride focused on pouring out into the rest of his bedroom.

For a moment Pride thought of stretching further to attend to Sloth, until he remembered that the Tunnel was complete, and that comforting thought cloaked him. The Tunnel complete, the required Crests of Blood formed, and now the year of the Eclipse was upon them at last. Ah, 1915… Pride digested the word, his body rippling in anticipation. The year Father's Plan would finally come to fruition. So close now, so teasingly close after so long. Some of the hands looped around the posts of his bed flexed and flicked, eager.

Another flash of lightning illuminated the room through the curtains, the thunder closer. Vaguely, he thought of silly Rosalie, maybe she was huddled in her covers, crying at the thunderstorm.

Pride's container was made to emulate humans in many ways, and tears were one of them. His true body lacked almost all of that, the ability to touch and feel (mostly) and Pride had thought that tears were also excluded for the majority of his existence. But no, the flawless magenta eyes of his shadow had welled with sorrowful tears once in his three centuries, frighteningly recent. His eyes that he shared with Father's True Form… and-

Don't think about that!

A quick spasm pulsed through every part of his shadow, and Pride forced all his eyes away, until he merely…encapsulated the room itself, coating everything the light touched in the endless abyss of his shadow body. It wasn't enough; Pride seeped further, more tendrils slithering under the quilt, around his container, squeezing it, but tender, like a hug. He shivered around it at the vain indulgence, and it shivered back, eyelids fluttering. Pride chanced it, forming a smaller eye close to it, and gazed upon its perfection once more, its pale, porcelain skin, its hair and beneath its eyelids the soft lilac eyes Father had bestowed upon him. In return, he would help Father become a God in any way he could. How could he do anything else, as his dutiful child? He needed nothing else. Nothing else mattered.

Pride regarded his container with a wide, wide smile that coiled across the ceiling, and embraced it tightly while the thunder and rain clattered outside, until the lamp went out, and he fell into a deeper, truer sleep.

Aw Pride, don't be sad that you have nice purple eyes but Mrs Bradley and Wrath and Rosalie all have green ones :'(

I included some real old New Years traditions here, such as throwing cake at the front door and the first footing, and it was good luck for the first person to visit the house to have black hair and be male. Also please excuse my bad Latin, please blame google translate. Also blow football is a real game, I saw a box saying it was around as early as 1910, so I thought I'd make use of it. Whether it really is so boring, or Pride just finds it boring since he doesn't need to breathe much we shall never know, as I've not played it :3

I had to make up a radio station because people in Central seem to regard Radio Capital as lame, so the Bradleys won't be listening to it.

Thank you anyone who's reading this, and see you next week hopefully :)