IS IT…?! COULD IT BE…?! VIC MIGNOGNA?! Nope, it's an update. Heh. Heheh. Heheheh. Vic Mignogna. Travis Willingham. Heh. Voice actors are so cool.
Of Winding Paths and Wind Spirits
"So, we gotta get through the eastern desert towards the south sea, down the Aerugo border to get there, and then we actually have to find the place we're staying at. I have no idea where it is," Roy said as they got out of the car at the closest town possible to Amestris' south-east border, Edward removing his cloak and throwing it over his shoulder. "Geez, it's hot out here!"
They had been travelling for several hours now, car to train station, station to station, station to station…several more stations and then back to car.
"You might wanna keep an eye on that arm, Fullmetal," Roy advised, retrieving their bags from the boot of the car. "It'll get hot in the sun."
"You don't say?" came Edward's sarcastic response.
"No, really," Roy insisted. "It'll actually burn you if you're not careful. And don't get heatstroke. I can hardly handle your stupidity when you're in a normal condition, so I hate to picture what you'd be like all disorientated and out of it. There should be a cart for us about here somewhere…"
Edward waited until Roy's back was turned to put a finger in each side of his mouth and stretch his face, poking out his tongue and going cross-eyed.
The two set off through the small town, looking about for the coach set to pick them up. After not finding it on any of the streets, Roy asked about in the old, rickety hotel, leaving Edward out on the porch.
The boy laid down on his stomach and blew around the sand on the old wooden planks, watching how it skittered about and fell between the cracks. An idea struck him in his state of boredom.
"I am the wind spirit," he proclaimed solemnly, twirling his finger in a small pile of sand he'd gathered and sending it all across the wood.
"All you small creatures shall obey my commands," he declared, blowing at the grains of sand and blasting them away. "Your god commands you to dance."
He spent several minutes forcing the sand to 'dance' in his honour, occasionally indulging in a small display of alchemy to make the sand come back to him after he'd blown it all away.
"The wind spirit grows tired of your repetitive patterns," Edward mumbled monotonously, letting out a huffing breath and placing his chin on the floor. "Do something else… Yes, run in circles."
He clapped behind his back and flopped his arms down onto the planks, making them tilt about and roll the sand in a circular motion. "This pleases the wind spirit."
"Alright, Mr Wind spirit," Roy broke into the boy's play. "Turns out the person who ordered us the coach asked for it a day late, so it doesn't get in 'til tomorrow. I had to book a room here for tonight."
"This dis-pleases the wind spirit," Edward growled, rolling onto his back and fixing Roy with an irritated glare. "What do you want me to do for a whole day in this backwater dustbowl?"
Roy smirked down at his subordinate. "Play 'wind spirit'?"
"That was so funny I forgot to laugh," Edward responded, rising to his feet and dusting himself off. "Seriously though. For all our military advances, they can't schedule a freaking coach on time?"
"Trains either," Roy added, rubbing his forehead with his sleeve. "I suppose we could try to stock up on supplies for cutting through the Eastern Desert area. If we gather up a lot of water, we can even use some to pour on your arm if it overheats."
"Meh," Edward replied, stretching his arms. "'Kay."
"Why so subdued, Ed?" Roy asked curiously, starting off down the steps onto the road.
"The heat's tiring," Edward responded blandly, tying his coat around his waist and setting off after him. "Makes me feel sluggish. Always has."
"Huh," Roy said with a shrug. "Interesting. I feel the same way about those stuffy, muggy days. You know when it's not really hot or cold but the air's so heavy and stifling? Full of moisture. Days like that, I'd rather just stay in bed. I have terrible luck in humid weather. Nothing ever seems to go right."
Edward gave a nod. "'Kay."
They travelled the rest of the way to the town's sole general store in silence, save for the crunch of sand beneath their feet.
"Ah, 'bout four jugs'll do it," Roy said with a shrug, addressing the young man behind the counter.
"Headed for Kambei?" he responded, turning and fetching the required material from the shelf behind him.
"How'd you guess?" Roy said as Edward busied himself with looking about at the various products the shop supplied.
"Well, that's the only reason and military folk ever come out to a place so far south as this. Too important up in Grand ol' Central."
Roy frowned and cocked his head. "But how—"
"Your whole face has that certain look about it. Too clipped and official. In fact, the entire aura I get off you just screams out 'I am a soldier!' It's pretty obvious to us country folk."
"I see," Roy murmured. "That's interesting."
The man behind the counter pointed at Edward with his thumb. The boy was poking at a stack of beans, putting his face right up close as if to read the contents sticker. He gave one hard tap and the whole stack fell down on his head. "He's a little harder to place, though. Not sure what to make of him. It's sorta like he's half soldier, half teenage boy." To the young alchemist himself, the shopkeeper added, "Now pick those up, boy!"
Roy shrugged. "He's like that. Oh, and we'll need about half a roll of those…"
After Roy was satisfied that they'd gathered all they needed from the general store, the two made their way back to the hotel. It was just beginning to darken now, and they lugged the stuff upstairs to find their travelling cases had already been moved up to the room.
One detail of the their accommodation caught both their eyes.
Roy slowly set the shopping down and Edward copied, both sharing a glance at each other. They looked from each other's eyes around the room once again, muscles tense, and then back to the point.
There was only one bed.
There was complete and utter silence for another three seconds where they looked at each other a while longer, bodies awaiting the impending race and hearts thumping.
There were two yells, a smack, a shove, a snatch, a thump and a thud.
Edward and Roy had both let out simultaneous battle cries before Edward had smacked a hand into Roy's shoulder and made a dash for it.
Roy had fought back by shoving the boy in the chest and heading for the bed himself. But Edward had the head start and reached it first. Alas, his speed was his downfall.
The momentum he'd created sent him straight over the top of the bed, leaving him to snatch at the blankets and haul them down onto the floor with him.
Roy followed, thumping down onto the bed with a smirk and claiming it as his territory.
"Mine," he said decisively, placing his chin on the edge and looking down at the boy sprawled on the floor before him.
Edward stuck out his tongue and curled protectively around the quilts, boldly stating, "Mine."
And so neither of them enjoyed that night, Roy somewhat comfortable but freezing up on the bed and Edward warm but uncomfortable on the hard floor.
The coach was indeed there for them the next day, ready to cart them off through the remaining desert country - Old Ishbal.
Neither of them had been looking forward to this leg of the trip; the prospect of travelling through a boiling hot desert to get to a country he didn't want to be in the first place did not appeal to Edward one bit, and Roy was slightly unnerved about returning to the former land of the people he'd played such a major part in slaughtering.
"Ngyaaa…" Edward was sprawled on the floor on the floor of the cart, his auto-mail almost steaming. "It's too hot… Auto…mail…burning… Wind Spirit…dying…"
Roy rolled his eyes, sighing. "Quit complaining, 'Wind Spirit'."
"But it's so-o-o hot…"
The only other passenger in the coach was a young man, almost the same age in looks as Edward, wearing a thick, beige, hooded travelling cloak over a singlet and shorts. He didn't look like he had much money, with a ruffled appearance and slightly dirtied skin. His eyes were on Edward's gleaming metal arm.
Roy poured a small amount of water over Edward's shoulder and the boy give a small sigh of relief and closed his eyes as the metal arm began to steam literally. "Are we there yet?"
"That," Roy said bluntly. "Was the most childish thing you could have said. Ever."
Edward stuck out his tongue again and growled, wiping his forehead on his flesh shoulder. "I don't care. Are we?"
Roy brushed a stray hair off his face and leant towards the curtain. "We've gotta be close now…"
He pushed aside the curtain a little and poked his head out, taking a look around.
Roy let out a soft, "Oh."
"Ouch." He drew the curtain again, sitting back in his seat and rubbing his chest to try and ease the sudden pain and tightness he felt there. "Not doing that again."
Edward opened one eye, puzzled, and tugged on Roy's trouser leg. "What? Are we here?"
"If memory serves," Roy said with a slight gulp, his throat suddenly abnormally dry. "We're abou-ut halfway."
"Did your voice just crack?" Edward asked curiously, snapping into a sitting position.
"Did it?" Roy flinched at another spasm of pain aching in his chest. He felt dizzy now and took a drink of water, hoping he wasn't dehydrated.
His gaze shifted to the flapping curtain as Edward pulled it open. "How could you tell where we were? There's nothin' out there but rubble and…" He trailed off, looking back at Roy, who let out a noise of uncomfortable discontent. "…burnt buildings…"
Edward's confused gaze flicked from Roy to the desert and back again. "Are you okay…?"
Roy took a deep breath and rubbed his chest again, his gaze fixed on a particular charred building in the distance. "Please, close that over."
"But don't—"
"Close it, Ed! Close it right now!" Roy snapped, his eyes flashing with a new light.
Terror.
"Mustang? What's wrong with you? You're looking pretty red. I mean, seriously. Your cheeks are like, bright red," the boy stated, dropping the curtain and sitting on his own seat.
Roy's gaze bored through the meager protection the curtain offered from the scene outside. He could find his way around this place with his eyes closed. It's aura pressed around him, crushing him, suffocating and pulling at him. It was all around him; the place where he'd almost burned to death with the Ishbalans he'd been responsible for the massacre of.
Roy went completely numb, save for a tingling sensation in his hands and feet.
This was the place where his own flames had turned on him.
He felt sick and dizzy.
This was the place where heat had licked hungrily at his heels like a beast lusting for meat.
His heart gave one single, loud, thump and kicked into overdrive.
This was the place where a single pair of defiant red eyes had stared him to his wits end before they burned with the rest.
His body started to tremble.
This was the place where guns blazed like the fire itself, stealing life like earth's own Grim Reaper.
Roy started breathing faster and faster, feeling like he was being smothered by the same smoke that had choked him almost to death so many years ago now.
That place was all around him, there was no escape, he was trapped, trapped in the flames and the smoke and the fire and the death and the guns and the war.
The war, the war, always the damn war!
"Mustang! Mustang!" Edward waved a hand in his commanding officer's face, but he didn't even seem to notice.
It was as if he wasn't even in there anymore.
Edward didn't know much about medicine. He didn't know much about psychology, or anatomy or anything like that, but he'd read about it. Years and years ago, at Winry's house, and in his father's old study.
He put his hand to lips and as he often did in this kind of situation and closed his eyes. Think. What is this? He rubbed his chest, he's shaking, he's breathing all wrong… What is this? I know I've read it before somewhere…but where?
Edward's eyes flew open. There!
Young Edward flicked to the next page of the book, muttering, "All Winry's books are dumb… They're all about doctor stuff…"
He glanced through it.
Panic Attack
Symptoms can vary from person to person but usually include problems breathing and irregular heartbeats. They may shake or sweat extensively, become nauseous, gag, experience hot or cold flashes, dizziness, hyperventilation, paresthesias and often a sense of impernding death.
A person who is suffering from a panic attack may not be limited to these symptoms. Some may experience hysteria, tunneling vision, loss of control over themselves, neck soreness or a headache. A person is likely to only ever experience one panic attack in their lifetime, but repeated cases are often diagnosed as 'panic disorder'.
Treatment:
…
Edward slammed the book closed with a huff. "Boring!"
Roy's glazed eyes widened and his shallow breathing sped up to a scarily high rate. "Help…someone…anyone… I'm gonna die…"
He curled his shivering hands close into his chest protectively, weakly shaking his head and mumbling, "I don't want…to die… Not here…"
Edward's brow furrowed. But he doesn't have a history of panic disorder or anything…at least, not one that I'm aware of…
"Dammit!" Edward slammed his fist into the side of the coach. "What am I s'posed to do?! Bastard goes and frikkin' flips out in the middle of no-where for no damn reason!"
"He's having a panic attack," the other passenger murmured quietly, his soft voice carrying an odd foreign accent. "It's from some sort of past traumatic event."
Edward whirled around and blinked, taken aback by the stranger's sudden input. He'd totally fogotten he was even there.
"How'd you get that?!" was Edward's immediate response. "You don't even know they guy! How could you possibly—"
"I am a shaman - a witch doctor," the stranger replied. "I can read people."
Edward stared blankly. "That's nice."
"It is."
A few seconds ticked by.
"Any idea what exactly I have to do?!"
The 'shaman' took his hood down to reveal startlingly white, straggling hair and lightly tanned skin. His eyes were a strange shade of violet. "You just need to keep with him. You're his son, aren't you?"
Edward blinked as the stranger shot him a glance that somewhat gave off the impression of a snarky comment.
"Look, buddy, if you're trying to make a joke out of this—"
The 'shaman' raised a hand for silence and moved forward to kneel on the ground in front of Roy. He reached out with his hands and rested them gently on Roy's knees.
The man moaned, shaking his head from side to side slightly. "What's going on…?!" he gasped, his words ragged. "I can't breathe… I'm suffocating…"
"Shh," the stranger hushed. "Now, I need you to tell me what it is that's bothering you. Look here. Look at me."
Roy's dark gaze locked with the purple of the other boy's, and he stopped struggling. "What are you thinking of? What is it that is scaring you here? What's doing this to you?"
Roy's eyes softened as the stranger's gaze drilled into him. The expression made him feel odd, like he was suddenly floating somewhere, somewhere there was only nothingness and no-one, and he had to exactly whatever anyone told him.
"Talk to me."
"It's this place…" Roy mumbled, his eyes wide. "I was here a long time ago… I almost died here…"
His whole body shook with a sharp, unstoppable tremor as he tried to stop himself from talking.
"Keep going."
"My own fire almost killed me…" Roy's quick, panting breaths made it hard for him to speak. "I was aiming for an Ishbalan man…but it was a trap. I almost died…"
"I see," the white-haired boy said with a nod. "What do you feel?"
"I'm scared," whispered Roy, his mouth moving on it's own accord. "I'm trapped here. I'm stuck in this place. I…" He clenched his jaw shut, trying not to any more pathetic words escape him. No! I don't want to say that!
"It's okay," the boy murmured softly. "We're only trying to help you. What is wrong with your body?"
Edward took a seat, mesmerised by what he was seeing. This white-haired kid - this shaman or whatever - was hypnotising Roy. He had to be; Roy would never say these kinds of things voluntarily.
"I can't breathe," Roy muttered. "I'm dizzy…and I can't breathe…because my chest hurts… I can't… My eyes are…fuzzy. Black 'round the edges. And my face is hot…but my hands are cold. What's happening? What is this?"
"You're panicking," the stranger stated gently. "Try to calm down. There is nothing here that can hurt you."
Roy nodded a little, his feet tapping quickly. They suddenly stopped, and he shot a quick glance around. "Edward?"
The Fullmetal Alchemist sat up straight. "Yeah?"
Roy shook his head. "Okay. You're still here."
"'Course I am," he said touchily. "Just listen to what that weirdo's telling you."
Roy looked back at the boy, who placed a hand on his. "I need you to take a deep breath and then hold it, counting to two. Then let it out, and do it again. Can you do that?"
Roy nodded quickly, his feet tapping wildly once again. "'Kay."
Minutes later, the 'shaman' released his loose grip on Roy's wrists and stepped back. "How are you?"
Roy closed his eyes and put his head back in the chair. "Tired. Tired and hot."
"You would be," the boy explained. "You've had plenty of hormones pumped into you. And hot flashes come with panic attacks."
Roy opened one eye. "A panic attack? That's what that was?"
The boy nodded.
"That's a new one," Roy commented, leaning back again. "Never had that happen before…"
Edward reached forward and slapped Roy in the back of the head. "That's for scaring the crap outta me."
Roy opened one eye, looking irritated, and did the same thing back. "That's for hitting me in the head."
"Hey! That isn't even fair!"
Roy shifted his attention to the boy with the white hair. "What's your name? Who are you?"
"I'm Tyrell," he replied. "I'm a shaman, or a witch doctor - I heal people and read fortunes for a living."
"Thanks for your help," Roy said gratefully. "My name's—"
"I know who you are," said Tyrell dismissively. "You're the Flame Alchemist, Roy Mustang. And he's the Fullmetal Alchemist, Edward Elric. You're being sent as representative of Amestris at the meeting. Edward is posing as your son so he can back you up should things go wrong, am I right?"
Edward blinked, astounded. "That's exactly right."
Roy didn't know whether he should be impressed by the skill Tyrell had just shown, or angry that Edward had just given them away.
Tyrell pulled a small, patterned piece of cloth from a pocket inside his cloak and grabbed the bottle of water from Roy's side. He poured a little of it onto the cloth and handed it to the man.
"Hold that against your forehead. It should help cool you down a little. And then have a drink," he ordered.
Roy did as he was told, looking curiously at Tyrell under his hands. That boy held an odd power, and Roy was quite interested as to finding out what exactly it was.
"So," Edward said, rolling his auto-mail wrist and scowling. "Why are you on this coach? Any particular reason?"
Tyrell smiled politely. "Yes, actually, there is. I'm going to the same place as you. A representative of Orato, a tiny little country to the west of Aerugo. You probably haven't heard of it."
"Contrary," said Roy. "The country of Orato was originally a tiny territory that was taken over by Aerugo, but later on had it's independence demanded by the citizens. It was granted, and Orato has been a close ally of Aerugo's ever since."
Tyrell clapped his hands. "You know your stuff, Colonel. As a matter of fact, Orato's such a close ally of Aerugo's, it's a wonder they still bother to be two separate countries."
The aura inside the coach thickened a little as the three passengers realised that they should probably be hating each other right about now.
Tyrell broke into a grin. "But don't worry about all that stuff. We're all on the same side now, aren't we? And besides, politics is boring."
It then struck the colonel that Tyrell was very young, no more than eighteen surely. This raised a question as to why he was the ambassador of a whole country.
Roy removed the cloth from his face and looked Tyrell in the eye. "Why is it you're representing Orato? You're awfully young."
"Same reason as you, I would assume. It got pushed down the ranks. My father, the nation's chief, is confined to bed rest to recover from illness, my elder brother is handling foreign matters with a neighbouring county and my mother and elder sister are women, and therefore aren't permitted to come."
"That's a little sexist," Edward said pointedly.
"That's how we roll in Orato," responded Tyrell with a shrug. "All about the men."
"Wait," Roy said slowly. "If your father is the chief, then doesn't that make you…?"
"Second in line to the throne," Tyrell finished lightly.
Edward looked Tyrell up and down, astonished. "So you're like, a prince or something?! What's with the get-up?!"
"Wearing layers and layers of robes is so overrated," Tyrell explained. "I wanted a change. And because my parents aren't here to tell me otherwise, I can wear whatever I like!"
Roy and Edward exchanged a confused glance and looked back at the cheesily grinning boy as they both tried to wrap their heads around his eccentric attitude.
Roy frowned. "How old are you?"
"Fifteen!"
"So, you're the chief's son?"
"Yup!"
"And you're being sent to Kambei as a representative of Orato?"
"Yup!"
"And you're dressed like a peasant because you're bored of wearing fancy clothes?"
"Yup!"
"A rebellious royal in the flesh. How cliche. Who'd have thought it." Roy shook his head in disbelief. "I fear for what this world is coming to sometimes, I really do."
Tyrell pouted. "Well, prince-hood is fun sometimes, but it's also stressful, and these clothes are so much easier to move around in. I don't have to go all out with manners and all that either."
Edward's face lit up. "I think you and me are gonna be good friends."
He held out his metal arm and Tyrell took it, only to recoil immediately, flapping his hand in the air. "Ow! Hot!"
"Whoops. Here, just shake my left hand then."
"Okay."
Tyrell reached forward with his right hand and the two boys fumbled about for a bit before Tyrell finally put out his left arm and they shook hands.
Edward grinned again and set his chin on his right palm.
"OUCH! GODDAMMIT!"
Roy groaned and put the cloth over his face again, covering his eyes. "Fear for this world."
The smoke is thick and stifling and heavy. It's so oppressive, it's going to crush him. But it's light, too, and even his short breath blows it away.
So clingy, draping over his shoulders and drifting around his feet, entwining itself about his body and caressing him.
It's licking him softly, but each time it touches him, it sears his skin painfully and he cries out.
It's grip is strong and absolute; he is fastened into one place by the tendrils of thick black and wispy white. If he moves, it's gentle, wraith-like hold will become sharp like a knife and tear him to shreds.
He is still, save for the movement of his chest as he inhales the choking air, his breathing quiet, fast and scared.
Everything in this black emptiness is pure heat - it rules over every inch of the place apart from his body, but it is pressing in. It wants him, it wants him, it wants to claim his life as well.
The fire is a beast; it has no qualms about who it burns. That's it's job, isn't it? What use is a fire that leaves something untouched?
The fire doesn't care if he is the king of flames, he's still able to be set alight and burnt to ashes, so that's what the fire will do.
He whimpers again, like a puppy caught in an unwanted, overly loving embrace as another wisp of smoke trails across his face and stings his chin like a blade.
Everything here is heat and pain, except for the one thing that allows him to escape from his suffering. Everything here hurts him except for the soft release of his weakness.
Everything here is strong and ambitious except for the flicker of doubt that dashes his face.
Everything about him is fire except for the tears that Roy sheds in his nightmares.
Roy awoke with a huge, shuddering breath.
His gaze snapped quickly left, then right and he relaxed with a deep sigh. He was slumped in one of the four seats the coach offered, wrapped in a thick blanket to protect himself from the icy chill of the desert by moonlight. The two drivers swapped shifts up the front of the carriage so that they would only have to spend one night in the uncomfortably climated area that was the Eastern Desert.
Edward was fast asleep in the chair beside Roy, Tyrell tucked neatly into his own seat opposite. Both of the boys seemed not to have been disturbed by Roy's quiet awakening.
Good.
Edward had undone Roy's ponytail in favour of putting it into a low-down, loose bunch, stating that it was uncomfortable to sleep with the tie pressing into the back of his head.
Several strands had worked their way loose and they blew to and forth with Edward's breath. He smirked occasionally in his sleep, but he also growled, as well as grimaced and sighed.
Roy yawned silently and pulled a stiff arm out of the blanket to rub his face clumsily. He shook his head to clear the last clinging fragments of his dream and settled back down, the little hairs on the back of his neck gradually relaxing.
Like hackles on a dog, Roy thought sleepily, quite pleased by this strange discovery. When I'm scared I'm like a dog, with the hair and all the glancing around.
He smiled wearily, as if to reassure himself that he was not trapped in a land of black where smoke was trying to kill him, and closed his heavy eyes again. I am a dog…of the military…
Anyone read Masashi Kishimoto's Naruto? Well if you do, in that last bit picture Edward with Hyuuga Neji's hair.
I know these last chapters are sort of fillers, but the action will start in the next couple of updates. I'm trying to stick all the boring let's-get-the-two-state-idiots-to-Kambei-in-the-fi rst-place stuff in this and the next chapter, kay? Hee.
My little sister is obsessed with Ouran High School Host Club. My friendship circle is split down the middle as to who is better; Hikaru or Kaoru? (I think it's Kaoru.) If you watch that show, tell me who you like better out of the Hitachiin twins. (Personally, I prefer Tamaki and Mori to both of them. Heheh.)
Please review! Thank you to everyone who has, and everyone who favourited and followed as well.
Goodbye, in English!
Ja ne, in Japanese! (Because apparently 'sayonara' means 'goodbye for a long time'.)
Au revoir, in French!
Adios, in SPANISH!
Yolo, in Hipster!
Arrivederci (wait, I learned that language for seven years and I still don't know how to spell that right…), in Italian!
Zip flam doo, in some language I just made up!
Zakuro out, in gangsta!
Something I don't know, in German…!
Okay, I'm all out of languages… Heh. So it's rainbow time! *rainbows off*