Phantasmagoria
Chapter 4; Amber
Bane; "Loads of mixed emotions in this one. Umm… You've got your average angst, a mournful resting period, humour (since when did I include this in any of my fics, right?), very slight hints at a future romance… And a few more undecided variations. There's a few flashbacks; REMEMBER: these memories occur in a matter of minutes. It's not an hour-long reminescence. Okay? So…er—have fun?"
A; "Have fun?"
Bane; 0.0… "Whaa…what else was I supposed to say?"
A; " 'Be happy.' That's what you always say."
Bane; "Not true!" –indignation- " I say things like 'loads'…and … oh! 'of'… or… 'mixed'… and uhh… 'emotions'!" –satisfied indignation-
A; o.0 "Backing… away…slowly…"
She woke to the sound of clattering; Alphonse making breakfast. Slipping a heavy blue comforter off her slim figure, Winry stood. Her head was feeling slightly woozy, and her nose was curiously stuffy; an after-effect of having cried herself to sleep.
She stumbled to the closet, (in which her suitcase lay), intent on picking out a comfortable set of clothing. However, it struck her abruptly that such idle dress wouldn't be appropriate for such a day… They had had his funeral planned for that date… Fumbling fingers traced her baggage, patterns that weren't apparent to anyone else formed beneath her fingertips; as though each swirl of her digit would help the tears to recede… but they never did…
Drying the beginnings of trickles from her cheeks with frayed night-gown sleeves, she stepped from her room, and directly into the path of one distracted Colonel Roy Mustang. He managed, to a vague point, to stop himself from colliding with her to the ground. He failed, however, to keep his own footing. The proud military official pushed back in a frantic attempt to avoid crashing, and came, ironically, to a spectacular crash upon the quite solid floor.
He lay in an akward sprawl, and was only aware of his position through her vacantly wide-eyed expression. Miraculously, though, she was still standing. He blushed ruefully, mumbled something that sounded like, 'hurry and get ready.', and made his way down stairs.
She didn't know what to make of this, and resolved not to bother at all… embarrassed Colonels and reality simply did not mix.
Across from her temporary quarters lay the bathroom, into which she stepped.
The sound of the shower running could be heard even above the sizzling of Bacon, but the Colonel slipped into the kitchen nearly unnoticed. (Alphonse caught sight of him from the corner of his eye.) His face was flushed. Looking tired, and more than a little embarrassed, he had failed to observe that his shirt was inside out.
Al decided that he would mention it later. Maybe when the man had received a dose of caffeine…
The harsh rupturing of the showerhead stung gently on her back. Not that she would notice; her head was lost in thought. Rich tiling of the surrounding wall slipped in and out of a reminescence that changed with the slightest passing of her notions.
"I told you not to play in the creek."a somber Winry scolded half-heartedly. In truth, she knew that he hadn't been playing… but guilt always hurt so much less if one could pretend that reasons were non-existant.
Edward looked up at her, and said nothing, but reached a bandaged, poison-ivy tainted arm into his pocket. What he brought out of the pocket was small, but the effort of such a find was enough. It squawked in an attempt at dignifying itself once more; the squat figure of it giving Winry a slight tremor.
"You really shouldn't have gone after it. Poor thing—"
But he laid it within her out-stretched palms, and reveled in how her eyes widened marvelously.
"Yeah; but you said you wanted to catch it…"
The five-year-old beside her smirked triumphantly, still unaware of what the strange feeling that welled inside of him at her smile would develop into.
She hugged him, frog still in hand.
It would be the next day that she would know what it felt like to receive poison ivy for herself, though she never did tell Edward it was his fault. The amphibian lived in a tank for a good three years, getting fat and content off flies and…sugar lumps.
"She's taking a while." The Colonel observed non-chalantly in a dull murmur.
Alphonse didn't reply, simply shrugging. He knew why; for he had gotten up earlier simply to enjoy the luxury of remaining under water and just… thinking… Something nobody truly realized that they almost never did.
"What'cha' doing?"
Her small voice was barely a whisper, but it was loud enough for him. In a slightly annoyed growl, he responded shortly, "Drawin'."
This, of course, was not fitting enough to satisfy the tempermental curiosity of a girl such as Winry.
"What'cha' drawin'?"
Edward remained silent, his tongue taking its place at his lower lip in concentration. When, at last, he could take no more of her staring, he passed her a sketch-pad. The grass below them shuddered at the exchange, snickering breezily for their innocence.
Her glare had disappeared, and what had been a scowl of impatience contorted into one of wonder. Just as he was a prodigy of alchemy, he was a right brilliant anomaly at illustration.
There were a great many pages, most filled with airy outlines of birds, or fluffed tresses of trees.
"They're so…"
She left off, still leafing through each page as though she would never again see such mastery.
He, in turn, simply shrugged.
"I just practice styles a lot."
She handed it back cordially. Still, he paused, waiting for something even he obviously didn't know of. And still, she smiled at him expectantly.
"Hey… Ed?"
"Yeah?" His light, unsettled nine-year-old voice replied plainly.
"D-Do you think I could watch you draw?"
He was somewhat started by this.
"Uhm, sure, Win. But… why?"
"'Cause I love your drawings. I wanna' watch you make them."
Edward nodded, grinning broadly now.He finished the sketchbook that very day—and Winry was overjoyed when she received it the next day.
"Now you won't have to picture the pictures."
Her foot hit the soak-mat, and with a heavy heart she slipped a towel around her. Her hands worked without her real presence. Clumsily, Winry dried herself and set to putting on the soul-wrenching black attire she had only recently chosen for such an occasion. Bitter tears melded into her already damp cheek, but she didn't pay them much mind until it occurred to her that, unlike Edward had, she never looked like she hadn't been crying. Her face always reddened with the moist melancholy.
Resolving to wash he face, Winry pushed her sleeves up without much care to wrinkling and brought a hand-full of water to her visage. The fluid felt good against her skin in the steam of the condensation. She brought a washcloth to her face to dry it, then looked up into the mirror that hung in alignment above the sink.
Her heart might as well have stopped, dead cold.
For in the glass, a symbol had been made. A heart, like those on Valentines day was sketched into the foggy reflections. It was strange and rather off-beat, sharper than it should have been at the point. But even as she watched, tubes, rather like the valves of arteries found one a human heart were being 'penciled' in by something she couldn't see. Panicked, she looked wildly around.
"W-who's there?"
No reply; the drawing continued to progress. Drops of water began to form, obviously the fog collecting enough to drip down as minute 'streams'. But even that turned to an edge, as each molded into a mild crimson, the clear cutting into it, and remaining only half of each foggy tear. They continued to drip down, the claret forming trails down the mirror in agonizingly slow paths.
But she didn't scream until two eyes could be seen at the center of the masterpiece, two gaunt forms, haunted by the charismatic amber. Now, the tears were hers, running down her face as she backed away into the opposing wall.
Winry collapsed to the floor, shaking with her sobs.
"No! It's..n-n-ot there… he… n-no!"
The clatter of footfall on aged steps could be heard, and one single knock sounded before the door burst open. Abruptly, warm arms enclosed her, and she could hear Alphonse's voice carrying out stunted words that she barely made out above her own distress.
"H-he… and… t-the picture… I used t-t-to love his… pi-pictures…"
Silly, she scolded herself, to make such a fuss about something you know isn't real.
And yet, she couldn't stop crying, the tears taking each needle of mourning away from her heart. Roy stood to the side, knowing fullwell whom she was ranting about. And he sat at the edge of the shower, arms around himself.
His eyes were widened and, had he been alive, seemingly bloodshot. Even in his deceased state, he shook, rocking back and forth murmuring, "I-I didn't mean to…"
Wishing only to see the backs of his eye-lids, Mustang closed his eyes, but could not block out the horrid murmuring of either one of them.
"It's alright, Ms. Rockbell. You mustn't have been really awake."
She nodded silently, her eyes darting warily around the room as though scanning for something she wasn't sure was even possible.
She can't see him, Roy realized suddenly, and simaltaneously concluded that it was even more likely for him to be a complete loon.
Edward had begun to pace, now, shuddering every few steps, and all the while muttering excuses. He reasoned to himself that he hadn't known, and went into a long, incoherant rant about the missing link. Mustang hardly noticed; he couldn't bear to look at him.
"She used to love my drawings… She—She said they had soul, and how they showed the pain that I myself couldn't. Why… Why won't she love it anymore? Why doesn't it have soul?"
He sobbed to two deaf pairs of ears, and one sharpened stone of a military official.
Bane; "I hope you guys set your angst scale up."
A; "I sort of… didn't get most of the first flash back."
Bane; "Umm…Yeah, well… you mostly had to read between the lines. What occurred was this; Winry wanted to catch a frog, but couldn't. It escaped her, and Edward went after it. Even knowing that there was poison ivy, he went forth, and eventually caught it. A few hours later, he's listening to the whistful, and guilty scolding of Winry, when… bu-yah! He shows her the frog. Fuzzy feelings. Get it now?"
A; "Could you be any more sarcastic?"
Bane; "Umm… No. I stopped being sarcastic to join the circus and write fanfiction."
A; -.-' "Yeah…"
Bane; :-shifty eyes-: "Anyway; sorry its short, but there was some mild EdxWin fluff. And next chapter should be a bit longer… Funerals always are…" :–maniacal laughter-:
Bane; "As a VERY IMPORTANT side note, I've been sick for the last two days, and... they think I have appendicitis... So if I don't update for a while, you know why... but I'm trying my best, really. I love you guys!"