To Alphonse Elric, his brother was everything. He was his god, his saviour, his hero, his sun and moon. And the golden orbs that blazed such dignity and passion proved the fact. Edward's eyes showed all emotion,
but only the well trained eye could distinguish such. Alphonse could tell. He always had. When he was sad, he stared at the floor, as if that were the answer to his problems. His eyes seemed more glassy and soft then ever. And when he was annoyed he always looked to one side, a sharpness added, making them look almost yellow. When he was angry there was a fiery passion that burned through all. But most other's had never noticed. To most, eyes are used for seeing, and it's just a written trait that someone's emotions could be seen through their eyes. But Alphonse could see, plain as day. He had a long time to study his eyes, after all. Al could not sleep, and that was what helped it most. Since he watched his brother's thought-
filled eyes all day, when he closed them and went to sleep- which Al could not- it was like the sun setting. All that feeling disappeared behind weary eyelids, and all was cold. No emotion, no light, no warmth, no comfort. Sitting in a cold, dark room every night. And every night, Alphonse would begin to doubt that the golden mass was ever there. Whether his not having a real body was beginning to affect him, or he subconciously felt the urge to pay attention to something to keep him sane. To show him that those eyes were real, and this was not a dream. But when those eyes closed, everything was gone. He began doubting his very existence and their actual meaning in life, how could he tell what was reality or not. And everything became bleak, and unnatural. The shadows on the wall threatened to consume him.
They laughed at him, and his doubt for existence. They would writhe and twist and taunt.
And then everything became nothingness and dream-like and he prayed to close his eyes, or put out his hands and make them stop, and make the darkness go away, now he had nothing to hold onto. They won, and he wanted to cry aloud that there was nothing such as light, and joy, and passion. Just go away, and leave him, and stop laughing, and mocking and squirming, and just as he would prepare to scream for his brother, for someone, for help. Just as he began to lose his mind and would almost scream for his mother, and for the life they had, Edward's eyes would open. And like from a dark abaddon, his brother's eyes would shine a golden truth.
And like the sun rising from the crown of a hill, they spread warmth and love and compassion.
And banished the shadows, and stopped the cackles, and the writhing became still, and was gone with the moon. For the avidity in his eyes was the sun, and it would bring hope, and show him that there was a point in continuing. And Alphonse would smile, and bask in the loving glow of his brother's eyes, and know that there was no shadows, and no faces. The only reality was the figure with glowing gold eyes standing before him, and that's all he needed.
And when he was asked how things had gone the previous night, he would say nothingof interest. And when the being with those golden eyes shrugged in response and start preparing for the next day, Alphonse would sigh to himself. There was fear, but for what, he was unsure. For that was the way the sun and the moon worked. That was his brother's eyes.
He was his god, his saviour, his hero, his sun and moon.
but only the well trained eye could distinguish such. Alphonse could tell. He always had. When he was sad, he stared at the floor, as if that were the answer to his problems. His eyes seemed more glassy and soft then ever. And when he was annoyed he always looked to one side, a sharpness added, making them look almost yellow. When he was angry there was a fiery passion that burned through all. But most other's had never noticed. To most, eyes are used for seeing, and it's just a written trait that someone's emotions could be seen through their eyes. But Alphonse could see, plain as day. He had a long time to study his eyes, after all. Al could not sleep, and that was what helped it most. Since he watched his brother's thought-
filled eyes all day, when he closed them and went to sleep- which Al could not- it was like the sun setting. All that feeling disappeared behind weary eyelids, and all was cold. No emotion, no light, no warmth, no comfort. Sitting in a cold, dark room every night. And every night, Alphonse would begin to doubt that the golden mass was ever there. Whether his not having a real body was beginning to affect him, or he subconciously felt the urge to pay attention to something to keep him sane. To show him that those eyes were real, and this was not a dream. But when those eyes closed, everything was gone. He began doubting his very existence and their actual meaning in life, how could he tell what was reality or not. And everything became bleak, and unnatural. The shadows on the wall threatened to consume him.
They laughed at him, and his doubt for existence. They would writhe and twist and taunt.
And then everything became nothingness and dream-like and he prayed to close his eyes, or put out his hands and make them stop, and make the darkness go away, now he had nothing to hold onto. They won, and he wanted to cry aloud that there was nothing such as light, and joy, and passion. Just go away, and leave him, and stop laughing, and mocking and squirming, and just as he would prepare to scream for his brother, for someone, for help. Just as he began to lose his mind and would almost scream for his mother, and for the life they had, Edward's eyes would open. And like from a dark abaddon, his brother's eyes would shine a golden truth.
And like the sun rising from the crown of a hill, they spread warmth and love and compassion.
And banished the shadows, and stopped the cackles, and the writhing became still, and was gone with the moon. For the avidity in his eyes was the sun, and it would bring hope, and show him that there was a point in continuing. And Alphonse would smile, and bask in the loving glow of his brother's eyes, and know that there was no shadows, and no faces. The only reality was the figure with glowing gold eyes standing before him, and that's all he needed.
And when he was asked how things had gone the previous night, he would say nothingof interest. And when the being with those golden eyes shrugged in response and start preparing for the next day, Alphonse would sigh to himself. There was fear, but for what, he was unsure. For that was the way the sun and the moon worked. That was his brother's eyes.
He was his god, his saviour, his hero, his sun and moon.