So yes I have no idea where this came from but eh I wrote it because it popped into my head. I am working on a sort of longer RoyKimbley thing. Going pretty well I have over five pages already. I know I am crazy.
My mistake before on my gaia name the whole actual thing it Hell.Fallen.Alchemist . If you want to look in my journal all of these are going to be in there so far. The only ones I might put up here will be the more graphic ones (as in the ones you won't almost be able to read in my journal). Feel free to give me some idea by PM on Gaia or by e-mail here. If you want to give me a picture and write something to it that's fine or just an idea. Anything really.
3. No RoyScar
"It must be done. It is the will of Ishbala."
"Damned be the will of God. You're no messenger you're nothing but a man who thinks his purpose is to spread propaganda. No different than my military. The labels have changed and the colors are altered but that's just the spin." Dark eyes were cold but the words he spoke were not in themselves unkind but a truth that was unshakable in his eyes. "Call it what you will but you are still a man whose hands are stained in blood. The blood of those who have no score with your to your people often enough. Either you and your 'God' have lousy aim or you take some pleasure in this revenge. Equivalency, conservation, preservation..they're not so different and none of them will ever be fair in the eyes of man kind because there is a objectivity to it that we could never hope to understand. Human and emotion are synonym. Don't hide behind an excuse. Come out and say it is you who will kill me by your will." Fingers rubbing together created a friction, sparks danced in the air before they faded and died only to be replaced by more.
The Ishbalian smirked head lowering slightly. "Well spoken Alchemist, Flame, but no matter what words you string together death is still death. Now pray if you will because faith or no you will be leaving this earth."
There was no need to shout. No need for an audience either.
In a way it was almost fitting the way it ended.
The heat burning at his very lungs, enough to sear the flesh and kill it. Holes literally burned in his trachea. Enough to kill him and that the blood from the wounds drowned him. The other was no unscathed though. Decomposition from the destructive hand, that according to the scarred man spread the will of his god, working through his chest. Lungs first and working in to his heart.
Both could taste blood and while they fell vermillion and ebony caught. A look of understand. A look of relief. In the last brief moment of life they both reached for something that would never touch. Each other. Some things were just never meant to be.
No words of thanks passed.
No promise.
No confession.
Just a glance that said everything.
Though when the bodied were found they assumed the extended arms were that way from death, not out of the last strength of life. No one would ever think there was some strange love that was less romantic and caring than it was just heartbreaking. Not between Colonel Roy Mustang the Flame Alchemist and the Alchemist killer dubbed Scar.
Not that anyone needed to know.
No.
No one knew but all the same the clouds cried.
With death comes peace and understanding, and even the pair hadn't realized they would find that in the other. Or in the life they would steal last.