Tick. Tick. Tick.
Ebbing away. Floating about. Too quick. Too slow.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Without it we are lost, in a panic.
"What time is it?"
"It's getting late."
"I must be off now."
Tick. Tick. Tick.
With it, we're afraid of what's to come in the next second. We're frightened of changes. Losses.
"I'm getting old."
"Time flies when you're having fun!"
"Happy birthday, Papa."
Tick. Tick.
We expect and brace for death.
Tick. Tick.
Times I've wondered the point to life and living. My mind frequently pondered the reason to preparing for great and minor goals, simply never accomplishing or achieving what will only be lost.
Tick. Tock.
Times I wonder, why struggle through the pain and suffering for perhaps a single moment of greatness and an entire future of oblivion?
Tick. Tick.
Why do I exist here as this tiny, insignificant speck? What's the point to it all?
Tick. Tock.
We all end up dying anyway.
Tick. Tick.
To strive for ruler or discovering a new place, it all seemed futile to me.
Oblivion.
You succeed and have all that you've done taken.
A distant memory.
The land is remembered. The new king is worshipped. Only a few can truly remember your name, your personality.
"Who are you?"
"I used to know."
You're left with nothing in the end.
"We're solving bloodshed with more bloodshed."
No.
Survivor.
Nothing but the curse of a thousand lifetimes. The curse of the dead. The curse of a mistake.
The curse of never forgetting you're alive while others aren't.
"Murderer."
Immortality is a cruel, horrid thing.
Tick. Tock. Tock.
Why have a beginning when there's an assured end?
Tick. Tock.
Why hope for an end when you're condemned to a lifetime?
Tick...tick...t..i..c..k
Why not end it all before the pain is realized?
t...i...c...k...
Let the wind whisk away the traces of our existence. Spread us across the land where we may rest, forevermore, in the solitude of silence and ignorant bliss.
t...i...c...k
Stop time.
...
Disappear.
"Do you miss it?"
I gaze down at the Colonel continuing to scribble, curious as to know what brought on the question. Here we'd been going on a streak, keeping to ourselves, he working, I resting and occasionally observing him. Now out of the blue, he wants to poke through my secrets?
"What do you mean?" I ask, immersing myself in the act of picking at my fingernails. From time to time, I'd risk a quick peek at his working state, catching myself in the act and absurdly scowling at his scalp. There was no reason to respond. No reason to invite discussion.
"I'm sure you're able to guess," he retorts, hardly passing a narrow glance. That pen of his continues to move, swallowing the room in its disorganized waves of noise. The clock beside me thunders heavy clicks, clashing with the scrawls of the Colonel's notes. Somewhere in the distance, a heartbeat gasps, a lung deflates.
With a piercing gaze between the comforts of my hugged knees, I take in his unchanging approach, his undeniably obvious trade for a piece of me by resorting to pretend lack of interest.
The pen continues scratching away. I eye the nibbled sandwich. Look back towards the man.
Clockwork distracts my thoughts. Memories weave confusingly through loose holes and broken floorboards.
I see Papa peering into my soul with such empty, empty eyes.
Riza holding a gun to my head while I attempted to mend her spine. The empty click.
Ritzu writhing on the floor, disfigured. Suffering. Pleading for release.
I don't have to answer. There is no presence saying I must do so. He is not demanding I speak.
"No."
The writing stops for a moment and I don't flinch at his deep, alluring irises gazing through my own. There's a certain understanding there. A faint message in those pupils, seeking comfort in a shared discomfort. Two dark paths accepting one another.
I blink.
There are also traces of surprise. He hadn't expected an answer, as blunt as it was. Perhaps this is the most trusting I've ever appeared. The friendliest we've ever been toward each other.
But am I being completely honest with myself? Do I truly detest every piece of the past of me that belonged to what was once called home?
I avert my eyes, reconsidering.
Naomi and I lying beneath the stars. Ritzu trying to protect me from the merchant, barely escaping with a broken nose. Mom sewing my cloak. Papa standing above me, hand extended, saying for the hundredth time, "again".
His pen goes off once more, breaking the edges of tension.
How could I have so easily dismissed those many wonderful times, compared to the few horrid? Disgrace the ones I loved, the place I loved, with measly excuses of viewing it as the birthplace of self loathing?
Aerugo was where I learned to love. Where I learned to fight. Dream. Laugh. Defend. Live.
"Yes," I breathe.
Roy pauses once more, this time setting his personal agenda aside and folding his hands beneath his chin. The sandwich remained forgotten. Unfinished. I'm wondering how much time remains in his lunching hour. How little he's eaten.
The randomness of these curiosities are absurd. I try clearing my mind when he sends me question after question through his stone hard expressions. The most obvious: "Why do you hesitate? Uncertainty? What have you been through?"
It's too many at once, too loud to hear. With an unstable intake of air, I shudder. Skin begins to feel prickly. Ice cold. Frigid. No, I'm shivering. The temperature has dropped so dangerously low and my teeth are chattering.
It's happening. I'm becoming what I've feared. I'm going to freeze into a wintry hell. No warmth will remain of me. The heat will vanish. My body won't be my own.
I'm turning into the girl of white.
"Misaki?"
"It's hard to give a solid answer," I say, appreciative of his willingness to speak my name correctly. Although a minor thing, it's almost startling how wonderful the syllables sound coming from a voice like his. A confident tone. Solid ground. Certain. "It's not like it'll do me any good to figure it out, anyways."
I exhale shakily. Icy shards. Frozen promises. Freezing spirits.
Roy says nothing. He picks up his pen. Starts writing again.
For some reason, this disappoints me. It disappoints me to a point of wanting nothing more than to sink through the sofa. Dissolve into indistinguishable particles. Fade to non existence.
Fending against these insecurities, I struggle for air. Purpose. Seek none.
"You're absolutely right."
I listen to the ticking seconds, the soft screeches of pen against paper. His eyes aren't visible, but I have the feeling he's paying more attention than it seems.
"Your point being...?" I ask, awaiting an explanation. He sighs and all the excess noise suddenly muffle into the background.
He leans back, marveling his pile of work. Black orbs lift to my own plain stare. The pen drops from his fingers onto the table.
"It won't do you any good to figure out your feelings for the past."
The pen rolls to the floor. Neither of us move.
If this were Naomi, she'd no doubt shake the stony expression on my face. If this were Papa, he'd probably lend me his hand and whisper those same words that kept me going. If this were Ritzu...
He'd be taking the words out of Roy's mouth.
"You're..." I speak, swallowing the dryness down my throat. I'm still cold, but the Flame before me makes it a little more bearable. "You're not so much of a mule as I thought you were."
And with those words struggling their way from my lips, something wonderfully new occurred within the Colonel's face. Incredibly stunning, it almost stole away my breath.
A genuine smile.
Mockingly, he performs a bow from his seated stature, piercing the core of my heart.
"Glad to see you've realized it, Miso," he says.
"Miso?" I echo. He nods, glancing at the time. By the way he remains in his spot, still, I understand his lunch remaining lengthy enough for more chit chat. Surprisingly, I was perfectly fine with the possibility. Even if my mind wasn't set straight, I was almost eager to stay in this man's presence.
When he went off on a ramble of my newly received nickname, I simply nodded and shot an assortment of expressions, never really putting in a huge say on my part. Occasionally I found myself throwing an insult, and occasionally he'd fire one back. The paperwork was forgotten as was the sandwich. But more importantly, the constant ticks of the clock that we seemed to have listened to so intensely before was now a distant memory. Replacing was the low rumbles of his deep and powerful voice and the growing boldness of my livening state. There were times of passionate debates and moments of trivial small talk, none of which was remotely close to the first conversations we'd had in the forest. No, those seemed like an eternity away. Now, almost pieces of me felt as though this man were simply a lost friend and this was our reunion.
I didn't know whether the thought pleased or terrified me.
"This reminds me of a time when Hughes and I..."
"You mean to tell me you've never had moon cakes?"
"You do strike me as one of those feisty, don't act like the other girls, type."
"Yeah, you could say I'm a bit of a slacker."
"What do you mean by that? Are you implying I enjoy being scolded by the Lieutenant?"
At some points, I hardly realized my mouth slipping, letting out bits of my childhood. Minor things such as experiences I missed out on, or my bizarre behavior around all my classmates, my boyish preferences. And in exchange, he'd make sure to tell me some of his own unimportant traits, stories, and opinions.
"That explains your weird choice of attires I suppose."
"Well, if I had spark enhanced gloves, I'd probably burn myself too. But probably not as frequently as you have."
"You're an idiot."
It was the usual coldness, yet completely different. My remarks lacked the blades and his speech was seemingly deprived of his usual formality and aggressiveness. We were only two individuals, speaking our minds, listening for enjoyment, and not thinking about the offices or worrying for the future.
Times I almost smiled. Almost smiled for my own benefit rather than for others.
It'd been a while since I could manage something as simple as that. It's sad when I think about it.
"You know, you've won the Hughes' hearts in a matter of days," Roy points out, dismissing his previous package of work rants. "You're all I hear about now when I visit."
"Really?" My voice lifts suspiciously at the end, wondering what he's hoping to hear as my reply. "Funny how the same can't be said about you."
He laughs away the insult. "Yes, well that's no surprise. Maes grew sick of me as I've grown tired over him years ago."
Not understanding the concept of his facetiousness, I frown. "How is it you refer to each other as friends then if you're so accustomed to treating each other so poorly?" I think back to Naomi, recalling all the times I'd bullied her, making sure to eventually assure her I never meant a cruel word. Regarding Roy and Maes, I'd never seen the two pat each other jokingly on the back or reassure one another of their pretend offense. Really, were it not for their claims to friendship, I'd probably have distinguished them as sworn enemies, stuck together for career purposes.
Roy seems to realize my poor evaluation skills, pulling back a sneaking grin.
"Rest assure little one..." He brightens at my clenching jaw, knowing I didn't appreciate the hinted short reference. "We may not appear the closest of friends, but trust me, we're practically brothers."
Just as Naomi and I had been like sisters I suppose.
"I see."
Without warning, I erupt into a frenzied coughing fit. When the moment eventually passes, I take in Roy's look of concern. A random thought clogs it's way in my mind, taking absolute control of my voice.
"Do you remember when you told me about your... sight?"
At first he scrunches up in confusion, sorting through his thoughts. Once recognition lights his eyes, I continue. "Do you..." I pause, recalling yesterday's bizarre conversation, then reddening. "Ah, never mind." Roy doesn't stand for it.
"No, no," he prods. "Continue. Do I what?"
I recall the way he was so animated in the telling of his first impression of me, the way his eyes flickered with life and his corners twitched in remembrance. How could I bring up such a heart felt moment again? Like my own heart could take it...
I recall the way he was so animated in the telling of his first impression of me, the way his eyes flickered with life and his corners twitched in remembrance. How could I bring up such a heart felt moment again? Like my own heart could take it…
"It's nothing really," I stand firmly.
"It's not exactly pleasant to be disdirected like that," he fumes. "Surely it's something important to you if you brought it up in the first place."
I don't deny the fact.
"It's nothing important enough to say," I try defending as he pockets his hands, shooting a look that said : Nice try.
With a sigh, I ponder if what I wanted to say was going to make me look like I was attracted to him. The boy had verified being a womanizer, so anything I say or show could be used against me.
Drained, I shudder myself of the thought.
"Alright," I start, shifting to a more dignified position, gazing up and away. Already my heart starts hammering. Though my body remains freezing, my face gradually takes on to a more tropical temperature, leaving me to fear the possibility of having to explain my changing color. The reason for what made me so riled up still boggles me. There wasn't anything relatively embarrassing about what Roy had said the other day, at least I didn't think so.
I frown to myself, pulling my wits back in one place.
"I want to know if…" I pause, nearly retreating from the intensity of these syllables leaking out. "Do you… I mean… How should I put this without sounding like a freak?"
Gravely, Roy leans forward, shadows looming over his eyes.
"Are you confessing?" he asks, ducking beneath the pillow I'd launched at him.
"Never mind," I snap. He chuckles, reaching out for the plush object, hugging it to his chest in a poor imitation of someone at the edge of his seat, eager to hear what it was I had to say. Irritated, I whistle through my teeth and rolly my eyes.
"I'm only easing the tension, Miso," he says teasingly, drawing back to a more military-like pose. "Now, what is it you're wanting to know?"
What I wanted to ask was if he still saw it. That so called blazing flame he ridiculously commented on as being beautiful. I desired to know whether or not I had a chance to let that fire grow, and if he could really see there being a chance of it burning at its brightest. Whether it would ignite the tangled vines netting my courageousness. I'd like to learn if it'd thaw the icy doubt lodged in my chest. Could I actually amount to something great?
I wanted to ask him all these things, but of course, I refrain from doing so.
"When are you supposed to be heading back?" I ask, changing the subject. To my relief, Roy passes a disappointed look, holding back his bubbling array of questions.
He takes a look at the clock and jolts to his feet, rubbing his forehead frantically. Obviously time had gotten the best of him. The Colonel was late.
"Shit," he murmurs and I find myself slouching at a sudden wave of exhaustion. Being with the man had somewhat lifted the weight in me, but now that he was having to depart…
"Tonight."
Startled, I gaze at him confusingly, hoping he'd elaborate. Apparently I'd somehow managed to miss his sentence, despite being so remotely close.
He notes my blank stare, marching past me, picking up his paperwork and unfinished sandwich. "I asked if I could come see you tonight," he says with a straight face. I can't be sure whether or not this is a legitimate question, or an attempt at one of his open insults.
But did I want him to come visit?
No, no. He'd asked if he could come and visit. It wasn't an invitation for me to decide how I felt about his well-being. It'd be fine to see him once again. Beside, this was Riza's, and Riza trusted him.
Reluctantly I nod.
He fails to cover up the smile in his eyes.
"Great," he says calmly, adjusting his things more comfortably in his arms. "Be sure to snack on something if you can and get some rest." He gestures to his temple with the sandwich hand. "We want that fever down if you're wanting to recover sooner."
Unconsciously, I touch where he's referring to, blushing at his approving nod.
I suddenly take in his hidden message.
He's hinting to me about leaving. Of course. He's hoping I'll recover soon in order to prepare for my departure and relieve everyone of my burden. His offer to visit tonight was simply a way for him to appear friendly in the attempt at helping me get to a more stable state.
How could I have been so selfish?
"Good?" he asks, stepping over to the trash can. I nod numbly, curious as to what this arousing pain was. "Great. See you then."
He drops the meal.
No one needed to worry. The Hughes, Riza, and the Colonel. They'd be soon deprived of their horrid beast of a guest. They'd done so much for me, so much that I'd forever wish to repay in the fullest, but I don't think I ever would. I wouldn't want to involve myself anymore than I had these past few days. Playing games, discovering new places, meeting new people, I was more than ready for the road again. Broken wings, dysfunctional alchemy, a stiff limb, all were nothing to me. The mental pain only showed them up as simple restraints. Nothing serious. There was no room for me here, and I was determined to leave them to their short lives. Meanwhile, I'd return to my hellishly long one.
A weight pushes into my palm. I glance up to find the Colonel looking bewilderingly into my eyes, inches away. He forms a question and I note the sandwich I'd snatched.
"You should try finishing it along the way," I find myself saying, watching as his fingers hesitantly wrap around it. At the feel of skin brushing against skin, I shiver, and nearly leap away. The urge is strong, but I manage to minimize it to a simple tug backwards, mindful of his feelings. I'd hate to make him believe I was truly loathing towards him, because apparently, I wasn't.
He's still standing there, looking at me, making me feel subconscious. With the sensation of being by a furnace, softly add, "You know, to get yourself prepared for your death match with the Lieutenant." Hopefully the suggested dismissive tone would push him off, and thankfully it did.
"Shit," he says again, taking off. Just before the door shuts and I've reached my spot on the couch, he looks back at my completely lost state. "Take care."
Once he leaves, I smile sadly to myself, going through my list of things I'd be taking on tonight's departing trip.
You too, Colonel.