Mom's Made Fullmetal Day 1: Snow/Cold Outside
Word Count: 1505
Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl
Rating: G/K
Characters: Olivier Mira Armstrong, Philip Armstrong, Genevieve Armstrong (Mama Armstrong)
Warning: N/A
Summary: Genevieve sees much of herself in Olivier. Its only magnified when she watches her daughter on the ice.
Notes: N/A
Snow/Cold Outside
Genevieve Marie Tallmound Armstrong was a woman of good fortitude. You had to be, to be from one of the five great families of Amestris. You had to be even more so to marry into another of the five great families of Amestris. Fortitude ran in her blood. She was a strong, proud woman, able to take on any task granted her with grace and aplomb. As with most of the great families, she had not only been raised to to social graces, but also to be able to handle a variety of circumstances which would require a more physical sort of fortitude.
But even she had her limits.
"Is she still at it, Genevieve, my dear?"
Philip's voice broke into her reverie, and she turned slightly to look at him. "Yes," she answered him. "Her sisters and brother have long since come inside, but Olivier is still out there."
Philip joined Genevieve at the window, both of them gazing out of it and onto the frozen pond that was in the back gardens of their northern Chateau. It was the dead of winter, there was snow falling, and yet their oldest, twelve-year-old Olivier, was out there, on the ice, skating as if she had the entire honor of Amestris riding on her. Even though she fell, she got up, and started again with her typical singlemindedness.
She had inherited Genevieve's own fortitude.
She was, admittedly, quite talented. From the first time they had put skates on her feet, when she was but five years old, Olivier had been trying to master ice skating. She took to it as naturally as she took to her sword, with an instinctiveness that had to be honed, but that was already there. Genevieve had recognized it from the start.
After all, it was the same instinctiveness that she herself had once had about the ice.
"I wonder how long she'll keep this hobby up," Philip said as they watched Olivier attempt a jump and fail again. "Every time we come up here, she spends her time skating and stargazing."
Genevieve glanced at him, watching Olivier get up out of the corner of her eye. "And what's wrong with that, dear?" she asked.
Philip shook his head. "Nothing, I suppose. But it is taking away from her lessons. She needs to spend more time on them."
Genevieve turned her attention back towards the window and to her eldest daughter, watching as she again tried a jump, failed, and got back up. "She is mastering her lessons with speed and skill. She excels at the social graces, she knows Amestrian history better than many of her teachers, she surpasses her peers in writing, and eagerly takes in science. Her sword master praises her talent and pushes her harder, her artistry in painting is superb, and her physical prowess grows as she does. With reports like that, I see no reason to deny her this."
"Hm," Philip said, as they watched her land hard, go sprawling across the ice, and then lay there for a second before picking herself up and starting again. "Unless we're training her for the National Competitions, or she's set on becoming one of the Briggs Mountain Guard, then I think this is a waste of time."
He shook his head again and turned away from the window. "However, you know the state of the children's education better than I. If you think this best, then perhaps we can let it slide."
"I do think it's best," Genevieve said, a bit of a hard edge to her voice. "She should be allowed this."
Philip said nothing more, just waved it off and walked away.
Genevieve frowned and watched Olivier again. Her daughter was now skating lazy circles around the pond, doing simpler jumps, and blowing into her hands to warm them up. Still, Genevieve could see the contentment there. Olivier loved the ice as much as she loved her sword. No, Genevieve wasn't going to deny Olivier this.
In fact, she was going to help her.
Abruptly, Genevieve turned from the window, and headed towards the back entrance of the house. She stopped to bundle up, and to order the cook to prepare warm drinks for when she and Olivier came back in. And then Genevieve picked up her pair of skates and made her way towards the pond.
Olivier was still skating around the pond when Genevieve approached it, although she slowed a bit as she noticed her mother. The wind was absolutely frigid, with the wind cutting straight through all of the layers Genevieve was wearing. It made her shudder from the cold, but it didn't deter her from her path. Olivier, wearing far less then her mother was, clearly was feeling the cold, but refused to acknowledge it.
That fortitude again.
"Are you going to tell me to come in, Mother?" Olivier asked. Even at twelve, there was a defiance in her eyes. She'd do it, if Genevieve told her to, but it was clear that she had no desire to.
"You'll have to, soon," Genevieve said. "The snow is building. You know as well as I do that it isn't good for skating."
Olivier frowned and looked around at the falling snow. She knew that Genevieve was right, although it was clear from her body language that she didn't want to admit it.
"Is Father insisting I come in?" Olivier asked, clearly certain that was what Genevieve's answer was going to be.
But Genevieve shook her head, and smiled at Olivier, much to Olivier's surprise. "No," she said. "I thought I might join you for a few moments." She stepped out onto the ice in her skates and started warming up.
Olivier looked uncertain and stuck her hands under her arms to keep them warm as she stood still on the ice, watching her mother. "Mother, I don't want to be disrespectful, but I'm attempting some very complicated moves. This isn't like when Amue and Strongine and Alex are out here."
Genevieve smiled to herself. Twelve years old and already so confident that she knew everything. Well, she was getting to that age. But perhaps Genevieve could show her a thing or two.
"Yes, I know," Genevieve said. "I was watching from the window. You're not finishing out your rotation completely before you start to move into your landing position. That means you're too early, and that's why you keep missing the landing. Watch."
Genevieve sped up then, gathering speed, and then jumped, preforming the same jump that Olivier had been practicing. The ice held beneath her weight as she landed, but she knew that it would. This pond had been dug large but shallow and was thickly frozen. Philip had done that just for her years ago. She landed with the same confidence that she would have if she had jumped up and down on solid ground.
Genevieve caught sight of Olivier's astonished expression as she skated around her in a large circle, bleeding off some of her speed.
"How—How did you do that?!" Olivier exclaimed, hurrying to catch up with her mother.
"Practice," Genevieve said. "Figure skating is a skill that has been passed down the Tallmound family for generations," she said, a smile on her lips. "Olivier, you are an Armstrong, but never forget that half of you is Tallmound as well, and we have a rich history all our own."
Olivier blinked at her mother, as if she had never considered this before. It was quickly processed, though, and Olivier's attention returned fully to Genevieve. "What can you teach me?" she asked her clearly ready to learn despite the fact that she was clearly cold.
Genevieve smiled. Her fortitude indeed.
It was a couple of hours later that both Genevieve and Oliver tracked back inside the house. Olivier was talking a mile a minute as she questioned her mother on skating and other Tallmound family traditions and attributes. The girl was rosy cheeked and exhilarated, even though she was clearly freezing. She had been eager to learn more. The only reason she has acquiesced to coming inside was because of the snow that was building up on the ice, making it impossible to skate.
Genevieve herself was exhausted and freezing. This was the reason she had given up on figure skating. She couldn't stand the cold for too long. She needed to stay inside, drink something warm, and avoid getting that cold again for the rest of the night. However, she was more than happy for the sacrifice she had made if it meant encouraging Olivier in something that she loved.
As she brought her eldest to the fire, wrapping a warmed blanket around her, and drawing her daughter to her side, Genevieve was content in the moment. Olivier was a headstrong thing, already taking notice of how the world worked. But in this, at least, as they talked more over warmed cider, she could give her daughter a bit of freedom from the pressure of the world.
