A/N: I have absolutely no excuse for the lateness of this update. I am SO sorry for all of the readers who were kept waiting, and I am also regretful that most of them won't come back, having given up on this story. School is in its final stretch, and I'm struggling to keep up. But I still have time to goof off, so I really have no excuse for my lack of writing. Again, I am deeply sorry for procrastinating at everyone else's expense. Hopefully, this will never happen again.
I'm sorry that this chapter is far too short to make up for how long I made everyone wait. But I wanted to get it up as soon as possible. It's an especially fluffy chapter; as far as I go for fluff anyways. I'm pathetic, I know. And I'm very, very sorry this is so late! T_T
Disclaimer: The characters of Fullmetal Alchemist are the work of Hiromu Arakawa. But remember, if you steal this and post this as your own, you will die. ^^
Absonus – Out of tune
They were finally in December's grasp, its icy fingers sweeping the fallen browned leaves with frost. The sunrises came later in the morning, and the blazing orb sunk beneath the horizon early in the evening. Your breath puffed in the air and the chill would cling to one's clothes for hours after finding shelter from the cold. The air seemed thinner and dryer than it had been, adding to the crispness of the outdoors and the chappedness of your lips.
The rest of the week had passed by without further dilemmas. Edward was now permitted freedom once more... Or, freedom to work he should say. It seemed like the moment he had slid from his bed and onto his feet he had been given chores to do. He said a sad goodbye to his plush golden room and resigned himself to sleeping in the cold servants' barracks for the winter.
He tossed the rumpled sheet into the basket Rose had left on the floor. Rose herself was straightening fresh sheets on the bed and lining up the pillows into a rather methodical pattern. The stack of books had been cleared away and were being put away by Paninya; who hopefully remembered where she'd gotten them. Ed still had no idea where the library in this house was.
Rose straightened a few things, having not looked at him or even offered a greeting since entering the room. Normally, Edward wouldn't care. But for some reason her behavior irked him. She was always so exuberant and polite with everyone else. What was her problem?
Edward ran a hand through his oily hair. He was still in his bedclothes and the need for a bath was driving him crazy. His feet itched and his skin felt sticky, and his bedclothes were clinging to his body somewhat. Overall, he felt nasty. Sighing, he scanned over the room for 'one last time.' The black curtains, the floral swirled wallpaper – paisley, that's what it was called! – the gold bedspread... It had become familiar in the past week, and now he was leaving it for the servant's quarters. Something caught his attention on the edge of his vision, something that didn't belong in the gold and ebony room. He stooped down to pick it up where it lay almost under the bed.
A white chess piece. The knight, precisely.
Ed suppressed a smile.
"You may bathe in the bath commune down the servant's hall." Rose's voice cut through the silence so suddenly he nearly jumped. Rose bent down and rifled around one of her laundry baskets, and drew out a fresh towel and his clothes; clean and folded and mended. Not a blood stain to be seen. He ought to endeavor to wear only black from now on – or maybe red. Did blood show up on red cloth?
Edward stepped forward and accepted the clothes and towel from Rose with a nod, his hand closed around the little wooden knight. Rose noticed he hid something in his palm and tilted her head.
"What is that?" She asked.
Ed frowned and hid the little horse more securely. "Nothing." He said quickly. "Where can I find the bath commune?" He redirected the subject briskly.
Rose barely noticed. She smiled faintly and said, "The one with the big double doors that is not the laundry room or the kitchen or the dry pantry." She said informatively.
Ed resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Thanks." He muttered, his gaze drifting to the door.
Rose noticed. "You may go. I'll handle this." She gave him a genuine smile.
Stunned, he nodded, and quit the room.
He must have passed the damn 'bath commune' a good five times before trying that particular double door. There was definitely more than a kitchen, pantry, a laundry room, and bath house with double doors, damn it! He hoped Rose didn't make a habit of giving out directions to strangers. If she did, she'd surely been responsible for many, many mishaps involving clueless tourists.
The bath commune did not contain a single tub. It was just a room with cubicles lining the walls with shower heads all around. Ed picked one a good enough distance away from the door and out of the direct line of sight should anyone waltz in. He left the clothes and towel on one of the many tables pressed together in the center of the room. He shed his sticky clothes and tossed them there as well, dropping the white knight on the pile of clean clothes as he did. He was relieved to feel warm water, and the soap felt heaven sent as it cleared away the filth he'd accumulated on his own. His thigh stung a bit, the flesh still a bit sensitive, and his ribs still ached slightly, but the pain was dull in comparison to feeling of stretching his limbs and standing upright for the first time in days.
He took his time, enjoying the hot water, then finally stepped over the raised bit of concrete that kept the water in the open stall to retrieve his towel and clothes. As he pulled his sleeves over his arm, he counted his scars. One, two, three; all from a misplaced whip strike along his arm. Four; one on his side from the fight. Five; one on his left hip that he'd rather not explain. Six; there was a new one above his right eyebrow that he couldn't see. Seven; the bullet wound on his thigh. Then countless more he couldn't see on his back from countless strikes from whatever weapon his old master could find. A whip, a riding crop, a green-wooded willow switch, the stirrups on his riding boots...
Ed sighed and buttoned his shirt then pulled on his trousers. He used to count his scars late at night, when he couldn't sleep. He would do it to torture himself. To remind him of how worthless he was. How pathetic.
But...the sight of them didn't bother him so much now.
With the towel draped over his shoulders and his waistcoat all buttoned and prim, Ed ducked out of the dark bath commune. He had slid the knight into the right pocket of his waist coat; where a pocket watch would usually go. As he wandered through the wide, gray servant's hallway, he wondered what Miss Winry was doing. He hadn't seen her since that day they'd played chess. He knew he shouldn't care, but he couldn't help but wonder.
Urey had poked his head into his room throughout the week; to apply new bandages and disinfectants and scold him for various things; but he hadn't mentioned anything about his daughter's wellbeing or health... In fact, the doctor hadn't mentioned anything pertaining to Miss Winry to Edward at all.
Gah – just Winry. Not Miss Winry. He'd have to work on that.
Ed strolled down the hall rather aimlessly while he toweled his hair distractedly, not all that enthusiastic to get back to work. He found his way to a gray staircase; likely one the chamber maids took. Deciding to explore a bit and try to get a bit of a mental map of the manor going, Ed took the stairs. He popped out of a random nondescript door on the second floor. He looked down either way, seeing nothing but identical halls. The blue carpets stretched out before him, the white walls decorated with a pattern of paintings. Everything looked totally symmetrical, and it gave Edward a headache. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling every couple of yards, dazzling his eyes with refracted light they caused.
The hall was entirely unfamiliar to him. Frowning deeply, he wondered if he should even try, or just backtrack. Deciding that he'd rather not starve to death (while lost in the mazelike halls of the manor; unfound and unheard by any life for miles) he stepped back and began to close the door, intent on going back down the stairs and finding Rose or Cook.
But at that moment the most wonderful sound reached his ears.
His hand froze in its action of closing the door, the creak of hinges abruptly ceasing to allow the sound to be heard unhindered. The music filled the hallway, bathing the immediate area with a soft, dark melody. Notes were struck gently with lithe fingers and sang of years of practice and devotion. The tempo was slow and temperate, soothing and low.
Curiosity drew Edward into the hall without conscious thought. His feet took him down the hallway as the notes of the slow and soft melody grew steadily more urgent and moving. It alternately softened and strengthened as the heartbreaking song continued. Edward found himself trying to identify the melody to no avail; he knew very little about classical music.
But this was beautiful – this music had the power to pull him down the hall mindlessly, searching and searching for its source. Finally he came upon a room; a room that was wide open with grand windows and a polished wood floor. Sheer white curtains covered the windows in a whispery iridescent veil.
And in the center of the room stood a huge, polished black piano. And at this piano...
Sat Miss Winry herself. Her pale fingers brushed over the keys in delicate caresses that made him shiver. Her dark blue skirts danced about her ankles as her feet worked the piano's peddles every so often. Her long blonde hair was pulled up, but left two locks on either side of her face that brushed her shoulders. She faced the piano, away from the door, sitting on a bench cushioned with red upholstery.
Edward stood by the cracked-open door of this grand room where the music poured from. He stood there, enraptured by the loveliness of the tune, and the music grew in volume, strengthening and then waning. Like the moon; he thought. Waxing and waning, growing brighter and stronger, then gradually vanishing.
Suddenly Winry hit a sour note, breaking the stupor Ed had found himself in. She hissed in distaste and tried the bar again, only to hit the sour note again. Scowling, she tried a scale, finding that note was off key.
She muttered something unintelligible under her breath then murmured to herself, "Out of tune..."
Edward blinked to himself, watching Winry stand from the bench and turn in his direction. He didn't have the time to make the decision to either announce himself or hide before she caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye. She gave a little gasp of surprise and turned towards him.
Ed said the first thing that popped into his head. "That was beautiful." He realized he sounded stupid.
Winry, who had been shocked to see him there, hesitated, then smiled gently. "Oh. Thank you, Edward."
A thrill went though him at the sound of his name on her lips. He tried to ignore how his heart had stuttered and said, "...What was it?"
Winry looked over at the piano before answer. "Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. Clair de Lune... Or at least how I play it... My tutor tells me I play it too softly." She admitted in a soft voice.
Ed shook his head. "I thought it was perfect." He said.
Then he instantly regretted it, for Winry's eyes lit up and her cheeks turned a lovely pink. She smiled at him; an honestly pleased and happy smile.
...He didn't like how the look she gave him made him feel. He frowned and turned his head away to hide his sudden blush. "I mean... It was nice." He said, trying to downplay the earlier praise.
Winry's smile faltered only a second. What was that about? He'd just been praising her, now he was... Then she realized something. Something that he would likely wish no one would know or ever infer. She smiled at the shred of his character she had suddenly discovered:
He was shy.
Her smile grew wider and she stifled a giggle at his obviously resistant expression. He was making a fool of himself without even knowing it. "Thank you, Ed. You're very sweet." She told him, enjoying the way he squirmed.
No, I am not! Ed thought with sudden chagrin. He fiddled with his cuffs and looked away stiffly, unsure of how to answer. "I-I must go." He stammered, beginning to flee. "I have work, I'm sure." He tried to make a hasty exit before she stopped him.
"Wait!" Too late.
Winry's single step echoed in the vast room. "Won't you stay?" She implored him.
Edward frowned. He took a deep, calming breath. Then turned around slightly. "Is there something you need, mistress?" He asked quietly.
He did not turn all the way around to look. So he didn't see Winry's shocked expression, or hear her choked intake of breath. Disappointment and sorrow filled her. Still, he acted like an indentured servant. Even after all the kindness she'd shown him. She scowled, suddenly irritated. He was just being stubborn.
Fine... She could try that too.
Winry crossed her arms defiantly. "Yes, please! I need someone to talk to." She sat herself down on the piano bench with a teasing smile as Edward turned around. She looked at him significantly.
...
Ed blinked. And stared. Winry held his gaze like a challenge, still managing to be the picture of politeness as she baited him. Her blue eyes were steady and unrelenting, but were full of something akin to hopefulness. She wore her emotions plainly, as easy to read as a story book.
He should just go downstairs and help Cook. Stand at his post near the door. Seek out Dr. Rockbell. For some reason, these options seemed...safer than staying in a room alone with Miss Winry.
Alone.
But still she was gazing at him with those deep eyes. His will crumbled.
With a shoulder-dropping sigh he closed his eyes. "Fine." He said resignedly, if not too casually for a slave.
Winry smiled.
Grumbling in his head about stupid girls with pretty eyes, Ed went over to join Winry, leaning against the piano with his hands shoved in his pockets as Winry turned on the bench to face him. She beamed at him happily, and he elected to stare out the window instead.
He'd felt weak and pathetic for a good portion of his life. But Winry made him feel...a different kind of weakness. And it bothered him just as much.
This couldn't end well.
"Oh. I ought to mention: Mother and I will be attending a small Christmas party come this Saturday." said Winry. She had somehow ended up laying on the piano bench with her head dangling from one end, staring out one window upside-down.
"Ah..." Ed grunted in answer. He had ended up sitting cross legged on the floor, leaning against one of the piano's legs. He glanced inconspicuously over at Winry and snickered. So much for the proper, well-mannered lady she was rumored to be. She was just a silly girl.
Winry squirmed on the bench, turning over so she lay on her stomach now, propping her elbows on the bench and resting her chin on her interlocked fingers. She crossed her ankles in the air, and her skirt fell to her knees. Highly improper. Ladies were not supposed to show their ankles. Her mother would have a hernia for sure. "I was hoping you would accompany me, if you felt well enough." She proposed.
The two of them had likely been talking for hours, simply sitting in the music room. It was like when they played chess that day. The conversation flowed easily between the two; after Winry managed to coax Ed out of that uptight servant mindset. She finally managed to get him to call her by her name; no honorifics. It was a major victory in her book.
Ed fiddled with a strand of his hair, and Winry was once again struck with the want to run her fingers through it. It had been wet when he had wandered in on her practice, and it had dried by now. Not for the first time, she wondered if it would feel as silky as it looked. She scowled, knowing she couldn't just reach over and touch him. That sort of action would be...far too intimate. And she doubted that he would let her touch him, given how guarded he was all the time.
Ed shrugged, the sudden movement bringing her back to the present. "Of course. Isn't that what your father wants? For you to have a personal escort?" He stared straight ahead as he spoke. He had seldom looked over at her as they had talked.
Winry wilted. That hadn't been what she'd meant... Not exactly. "I suppose. Thank you." She dropped her head and rested it on her folded arms, swinging her feet in the air now.
Her voice had seemed a little...downcast just then. Ed braved a peek over at her. She was staring at some spot on the wall or floor; he couldn't tell. Her eyes seemed sad.
He averted his gaze quickly before asking a little hesitantly, "Is piano the only thing you play?"
Winry hummed, returning her gaze to the window. "No. I can play the cello as well."
Ed made an impressed noise. "Do you have a tutor or something?"
"Yeah. Miss Lyra. I've had one ever since I was tall enough to climb onto the piano bench." Winry answered dispassionately.
Ed smirked wryly. "You sound so ecstatic." He mumbled sarcastically. He wondered when it had come to this; having a casual, friendly conversation with his master. When had he become so comfortable around her?
Winry humphed and sat up on the bench, electing to sit upright with her legs crossed in her skirt. She returned to looking at the wall, the window having lost its appeal apparently. "Music isn't...my favorite thing." she admitted.
Ed, now curious, turned to face her while remaining in his position on the floor. "Then what is?" he asked. How could she not love something she was so talented at?
He watched Winry grow tense, her shoulders creeping up to her ears in embarrassment and her eyes trailing to her lap. With fascination, he watched a blush rise in her cheeks and her fingers begin to twiddle nervously.
Oh, now he just had to know.
"Well..." Winry began hesitantly. "it's not very...ladylike."
"Neither am I." Ed said bluntly.
Winry gave a shocked laugh.
"What is then?" Ed prompted, his gaze serious and interested.
Winry's eyes travelled around the room, Ed's sudden interest making her more nervous. And less inclined to answer. "Umm..." She trailed off, looking everywhere but at Ed's penetrating gaze.
Ed continued to stare.
Shyly Winry dithered and avoided all his questions, downright refusing to answer him. She would rather let him imagine it was something nasty that was her favorite hobby; like licking toads or running up and down the halls stark naked while gargling. Anything but confirm out loud she was anything but a proper lady.
"Just tell me!" Ed commanded, now standing and leaning over Winry threateningly.
Winry scooted away from him nervously, her face beat red. "N-No, re-really it's n-not even th-that interest-ting!" she stammered timidly.
Ed leered closer, not giving the poor girl any route of retreat. He tried a more persuasive voice as he tried once more to get her to spill it. "There's no harm in telling me, you know." His voice may have come out a bit lower and smoother than he planned, but it had the intended effect.
At this Winry's eyes snapped to him of their own accord. He was still staring at her. The blush on Winry's face went up to her hairline, her eyes widening impossibly further and she unintentionally met his gaze. The look in his eyes was compelling, and he was so very close. They were separated by mere inches...
Winry gulped convulsively, her heart stuttering in her chest.
She leaned away and squinched her eyes shut, turning her face away. "Fine! I'll tell you, alright?" she cried desperately. He was too close.
Satisfied, Ed straightened up and stared down at her, his arms crossed over his chest. She wanted to curse him for the smug look in his eye, and the self-satisfied smirk on his face.
Bastard.
Winry collected herself, her blush reducing itself to a red stain on her cheeks as she fixed her skirts and brushed a hand through her bangs. She stared at the wall with a scowl and finally said, "I study mechanics. Automobiles, engines, anything." she admitted at last. "The thing I want most in the world is to become a mechanic."
The square patches of light filtering through the windows had stretched across the floor as they had talked, and now Edward stood directly in the rectangles of buttery yellow light. It lit his gold hair like fire and made him appear even more golden than he already was. He tilted his head to the side subconsciously, his gaze turning from smug to questioning. The hair framing his face brushed his shoulder, catching the sunlight and shining brilliantly. Winry tried unsuccessfully to tear her eyes away.
"What caused your interest in that?" he asked with faint curiosity.
Winry was relieved. She had feared he would scoff and call her silly. Ask her why on Earth she would be interested in such a ridiculous thing. She had expected worse from him. She smiled gently. "My grandmother." she answered. Her gaze went to her lap. "I miss her." she admitted out of the blue, eyes far off in thought.
Ed frowned, abruptly awkward and feeling a bit guilty. He certainly hadn't meant to make her look so sad. Or bring up her dead grandmother. He coughed awkwardly. "I'm sorry," he mumbled uncomfortably.
Winry gave him a sad smile. "It's all right. She's been gone for years. We all miss her. Especially Papa." Aw, shit, I feel like a prick. "But it's fine. She calls from time to time."
Full. Effing. Stop.
Wait...What?
"W-Wait, you mean she's not dead?" Ed blurted stupidly. He cursed internally at his own idiocy.
Winry looked confused. "Huh...?" Then she realized how what she'd said sounded. She hurriedly backtracked. "Oh, goodness! No, no, my grandmother moved to America when I was eight! She's not dead, I swear!" She said with a nervous giggle, her eyes wide with chagrin.
Ed felt like a high-class moron. "Oh..." He grumbled, retreating within himself to avoid the mortification. If someone burst through the window and shot him in the head, he would be grateful. How embarrassing!
Winry noticed this and quickly scrambled to remedy the situation. They had been talking so easily! She couldn't let it end now! "Well, it's normal you would assume that – after all I phrased it rather...oh, what's the word? Umm, not sadly or tragically..." Her face was heating up, and her voice had become shrill. "Well, anyways, it's natural that it would be your first thought was that I was referring to my dead grandmother – it happens all the time after all – and, well..."
Ed stared down at Winry, his expression growing more and more incredulous, blinking in confusion as she went on. Long gone was the composed young lady, and in her place was a vulnerable girl prone to babbling. She was nervous and embarrassed, reminding Edward of a little girl trying to explain something clearly to her parents in not so many words. She stumbled over her sentences, hardly sounding eloquent at all.
Ed stifled a snicker with a gloved hand, turning his face away.
Winry gasped. "You're laughing? What did I say that was funny?" she demanded, sounding very sharp.
Ed refused to look at her face. Surely he would lose his composure and burst out laughing. He'd never thought his mistress could be so...childish. "N-Nothing." He choked out between stifled snickers.
Winry felt her cheeks flame, unaccustomed to being laughed at. "Why you!" She griped in stifled anger. She wanted to smack him with something. Something heavy. Instead she crossed her arms and glared up at him.
This only made Edward laugh, turning completely around to avoid the sight of her, sitting there all flustered and insulted.
Winry gave an angry wail. "Stop laughing at me, or else!" She threatened uselessly. She couldn't think of anything she would do to punish him if he continued, but she tried in hopes he would take her bluff.
He didn't. Not exactly. He tried his best to sober himself and turn back around, standing up prim and proper with his shoulders square; shoulders that still shook with muffled laughter. He was bathed in that lemony light again and Winry was struck suddenly by something she'd never seen before.
His smile.
She'd never seen him smile with so much abandon. Only smirks and small smiles caught in glimpses. Now he was full on laughing, shoulders trembling and wiping away tears of laughter. It was like his barriers had fallen down, all those meticulously constructed walls against the world, simply gone. The change was astonishing. She was awestruck by it for a moment.
But he was speaking, she realized. She tuned in as soon as she noticed, realizing with chagrin she had missed the beginning.
"—my lady. I just never expected to see you so...anxious." He let the carefully phrased explanation hang in the air for a moment, and then chuckled. "To be honest, you were babbling."
Winry was stunned for a beat. Then she was up in arms again. "I do not babble." She insisted cooly with a flick of her blonde hair.
Ed raised a gloved fist up to his mouth and disguised his chuckle as a laugh. "Of course, my lady." He said neutrally.
"Winry." She corrected.
He smiled behind his hand that hovered at his lips. "Winry."
"Winry? Winry, dear? Winry!" came a voice from the hallway, a sound from the outside world finally permeating their safe haven.
A woman peered into the music room as she was about to hurry past it. It was Mrs. Rockbell. Winry's mother doubled back after glimpsing the figures in the music room. She took in the sight of them; Winry sitting on the piano bench with wide blue eyes turned toward the door, and Edward standing at a proper distance with an arm behind his back and a hand hovering by his chin.
Thankfully she hadn't come earlier, when Winry had been sitting on the bench in all manners of improper ways and Ed talking to his 'mistress' in a far too casual manner on the floor.
"Mama?"
Sara Rockbell looked to her daughter and smiled gently. Her wavy blonde hair was pulled back with a simple clip at the nape of her neck; no proper bun today, and her dress was simple and pale blue. Her eyes flickered over to Edward for a split second before settling on Winry again.
It was a glance Edward noticed. He made an effort to stand up straighter and fade into the background again; withdrawing from the world once more.
"Winry, dear, your father and I have been searching for you everywhere! Have you been in here all this time?" said Winry's mother.
Winry blinked. "Oh. Papa's home? I didn't know..." she murmured, sort of dazed. It was strange, her mother bursting in and shattering the atmosphere so suddenly. It left Winry reeling.
Sara frowned. "Yes. Come with me, dear. You're looking pale." She beckoned to Winry with a pale hand.
Winry didn't budge, her hands laying limply in her lap. Slowly her gaze drifted to Edward, glancing at him mutely.
Edward felt the stare like a sting from Mrs. Rockbell. Quickly he put his right hand to his heart and bowed to Winry, indentured servant once more. "Please excuse me, my lady." And without a word of explanation, he left. Mrs. Rockbell moved to let him leave.
Winry stared after him in shock. So many emotions roiled through her, beating against her weak heart relentlessly as she tried to make sense of them. Her eyes shined with sudden tears and she pursed her lips in an attempt to keep them at bay. Had all that progress been shattered by her mother's interruption? How could Edward have reverted so instantly to that sullen, submissive state? He threw up his walls against the world and retreated behind them, closing himself off like a door.
Why did that just break her heart?
Her mother, concerned about her daughter's blank expression, hurried over to her, asking her if she felt unwell or sick. Winry only blinked. Her mother pressed her hand to Winry's forehead, her fingers feeling ice cold. Suddenly everything felt cold. She was freezing.
"You have a fever! How long have you been in this drafty room!" exclaimed her mother.
I feel fine. She thought. Or at least she had. Until the second Edward had exited the room.
She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling freezing cold and suddenly dizzy, and let her mother help her to her room.
A/N: I have officially decided the year: 1892. This means the following things are true: Telephones have been invented and refined into the "Eiffel phone" style I mentioned the Rockbell's owned a few chapters back. Queen Victoria has the throne, her husband (Prince Albert) died 31 years ago and the queen is currently 55 years old. Also, the "New" London Bridge is still intact on the Thames, and the Tower Bridge is currently under construction downstream.
That's right. Rain did her homework.
This means our main characters were born in 1876... Jeez, ain't that a trip. That's the exact year an American Alexander Graham Bell invented the first telephone. Ha ha! History lesson of the day!
Thus I am confronted with when everyone's birthday is. Now, in the manga we know that Ed's birthday was in the year 1899, and the month is somewhere between October, November, December, January or February. We know this because from February 1910 to October 3, 1910 he was still 11 years old. Then more hints in other episodes narrow it down to somewhere in January or February...
Okay, I got it. Ed's birthday is February 3rd 1876. (in the fic)
And Winry's birthday will be... Well, no one really knows that one... They say random stuff like June 9th and March 29th... So I'm guessing no one knows... Eh, let's go with October 8th 1876. So Ed is older than her by a few months. *counts* 8 months and 5 days to be exact.
Whew! *sits down* That hurt. I don't do math well on Saturdays. x_x
Thanks to all who reviewed, favorited, and subscribed, and for reading!
Much love,
-Rain
P.S.: Ooh, sudden inspiration! Ed and Al were sold into slavery a year ago, right? Let's make it... October 3, 1891. How's that? ;D
P.S.S: Winry's version of Clair de Lune can be found on youtube as "Claro de Luna" by sciotip.