Snapshots, Sketches and Scribbles
Indulgence
The ocean rushed at the shore, merciless and cold, a grey like the steel of a certain automail arm. The day seemed to be in a bad mood: overcast and brooding over the absence of the Sun while the wind clawed at the red coat pulled defiantly about the shoulders of a sulky fifteen-year-old, the only hint of colour able to be seen for perhaps miles.
Amber eyes peered up at the equally cheerless sky. Looked like rain.
A sigh: "Al. Remind me why we're at the beach in this weather."
When this was met with no response, Edward turned, the wind whipping a generous serving of his braid into his mouth. "Al?" He raspberried in an attempt to get the blond strands away. "Al? Al!" For a giant suit of armour, Alphonse sure was proficient when it came to disappearing without a trace.
Edward squinted as he scanned the shoreline. Where on Ear -
"Here I am, Brother!"
There was a great, wobbling stumble and a violent flurry of flailing arms as Edward made a valiant effort to prevent himself falling face first into the sand.
He failed miserably.
"What'dya think you're doing?" He snapped, rising to brush himself off with as much dignity as he could muster.
In reply, Alphonse offered his brother a cone of something white, dripping and sticky.
"Ice cream?" Edward asked blankly.
Alphonse nodded and might have smiled if he could. "Vanilla."
The blond boy gently took the cone and stared at it as though it wasn't quite real. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had something like this. White rivulets trickled down the sides of the slowly softening cone and onto his gloves. He stared a bit more.
Then tentatively, his tongue ventured out and saved the next stream of melted vanilla ice, up to receive a mouthful of coldness that made his head hurt. Edward shivered. It was good.
He lapped up the dessert with a hungry, childish delight that Alphonse had forgotten his older brother possessed. All too soon, the ice cream was gone and Edward was considering his glove with mild disappointment and what seemed like the notion of possibly sucking on the fabric for what was left of the vanilla flavour. He turned to Alphonse and grinned.
"Anymore where that came from?"