it's the season of scars and of wounds in the heart
of feeling the full weight of our burdens
it's the season of bowing our heads in the wind
and knowing we are not alone in fear
not alone in the dark
I want to reach my hand into the dark and feel what reaches back...
Words can't even illustrate the horrors that I have seen reflected back at me in that homunculus' eyes.
I was so paralyzed... my mind shut down... And like my feet were made of clay, I couldn't even move.
I wanted to run. I wanted to scream and strangle what life the heartless doll has.
I wanted to cry for Al.
What is it like to see the image of yourself before you were sucked through the gate?
What can it be like to see what you may never be again... and to just... watch?
Will it ever stop hurting?
I'm reminded every day of my mistakes; it's agonizing at times when you can do nothing but live with it.
I'm not really the gift-giving type...
The Colonel's gonna love his gift.
Too bad the guy's sense of humour is as lively as a dead fish.
Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork... I'm so goddamn sick of being enslaved by reports and due dates
I never keep anyway.
I've got your
fucking paperwork right here.
100% completed. Proofread. Seven pages, back-to-back.
Signed your favourite little military lapdog.
I'm presenting it to you today, but you'd better expect equivalent trade between alchemists.
I have a lot to ask you.
I want to know your side of the story.
i don't think i am strong enough
to do this much longer
god, i wish i was stronger
this song could never be long enough
to express every longing
god, i wish it was longer...
I've come to understand why we do the things we do.
... I'm beginning to understand the cruciality of love and power.
Power is sought for a variety of reasons, and it's sometimes provoked by love.
Namely in the power to protect love.
We're all commoved by either one or both of these concepts.
Power for love... A love for power...
I love Al... so I want to harness the power it takes to
clean up my mess restitute him. I want to make him happy.
The Colonel wants power, too... and I'd like to believe it's because there's someone he loves that he wants to protect too...
I've also slowly grown to respect Mustang as more than just a rank since the Ishbal Temple Incident (tm). I respect him as a man of tenacious honor and dignity... and it stings my tongue to utter such words, so don't expect to be hearing them again anytime soon.
I wonder what he saw in the war. I'll never understand how such a man can save face even when he's bed-ridden and knowing he must look like a travesty of his usual puffed-up pride.
I couldn't stand to see him look so vulnerable. Everything around me and in Ishbal seemed to tilt that morning I thought
I'd we'd lost Mustang under the rubble. The light of the world seemed to alter and distort... and my world appeared as though covered in darkness.
And not the familiar kind of despair my eyes have adjusted to... although it's just as displacing and horrifying.
Ever since Ishbal -- and ever since I came so close to something transcendental in that array -- nothing has felt familiar.
Except Al. Al is perhaps the only constant variable in my life... because even my mind is yielding to change. I can't even trust myself right now.
The moment we arrived at Central (from a train I wished would derail and scream off into the nearest ravine... really...), I saw Al back to our dorm.
I hope he remembers to take Momo off Lieutenant Havok's hands. Hah. Who am I kidding? That's probably the first thing he'll do.
I have taken it upon myself to hole up in our room and fill my head with textbook knowledge and pick apart formulas for new equations in transmutation. If I dwell on all of this, I won't have to think about everything else that's going on in my mind. I can't even begin to sort out all of the confusing notions and face them for what they really are. Between Alphonse and Mustang, I...
I worry too much about my affairs with people. I'm losing focus.
... Al's been really compassionate as if he knows what I want without my articulating it. He moves around my form sprawled on the floor with an air too light for the cumbersome suit of armour that he is. And his all-knowing behavior as he sits and observes me sets off alarms in the back of my head. Around him, I sometimes feel stripped... and in my most doubtful moments, it scares the hell out of me.
He knows me better than I do.
I'll never see through his eyes, trapped in that prison he's in... but he can see right through me. And it doesn't even faze him.
I do the things I do because of love.
Love is the most important, dangerous, and invicible element.
I suppose it will kill me someday.
I have a new name: The Fullmetal. So when I'm not on Human AIchemy, I'm probably there. Thanks. ~<3
We continue on, unatoned.
I've thrown everything I am into this search.
I feel like I'm bound to this mission.
It's been four years...
... five once the season changes.
I'll be sixteen sooner than I care to recognize, and yet my brother is frozen in time.
I just want my baby brother back.
More than anything, I want to wrap my arms around him and feel warmth and skin and see that daylight smile and peer into leaden eyes that remind me that even the smallest things can mean more than gold.
I can't believe I thought he was... dead.
Roy Mustang can't die, just like that (we couldn't be so lucky).
You can't imagine how silly I feel for foolishly thinking the self-important Colonel could bite it on my behalf.
Oh no. He has to be alive, or else he would have taken me down with him.
He knew I would want it that way anyway.
There will be plenty of opportunities for death later, after I recover my brother's body.
Sensei calls it getting back what we lost through a mistake by committing another mistake...
Sin for sin.
But what can we do?
equivalent exchange isn't fair.
Mustang would not be without backup on this venture.
Surely Hughes-chuusa would be here for investigation... or maybe his First and Second Lieutenants...?
We'll comb the entire city if we have to.
I need closure, no matter the result.
- - -
While I crawl into the unknown
I'm going hunting for mysteries
I'm going to prove the impossible really exists
This is really dangerous
But worth all the effort
I'm going to prove the impossible really exists
If only I could have been there
I'd be a hand for the sinking
If only I could have been there
I'd be a prayer for the dying
Oh, I'm so sick and tired of --
... the taste of tears,
the sting of pain,
the smell of fear,
... the sounds of crying.
I'm stalling sending a report back to Headquarters.
I don't want to hear the Colonel's sardonic "I told you so"'s just yet.
We're not done here.
The people are suspicious, and they move among us with their terrific red eyes and holy loftiness...
What are they trying to defend by protecting this wasteland?
It's sad, but it's true; there's nothing left of Ishbal but a conglomerate of refugees.
This territory is no longer a sanctuary. It will soon be under fire by the military like it was years before.
... back when the Stone was supposedly manifested.
What are they trying to stand up for? Their virtue?
I hate this place.
These people will die... Our simple presence here is jeopardizing them.
But if the secret to the Stone lies in these sacred ruins, then... it's for their own good.
If I can manufacture the Stone the right way (and I refuse to believe the Philosopher's Stone can only be fabricated at the cost of several lives), then I will not only be saving them but I'll be preventing another war.
I've let everyone down so far.
I've become everything worthy of disdain in two words: "State Alchemist."
But I strongly feel my next encounter with Scar will be different.
Show me your god who will judge me...
Or does he speak through the arm that only destroys?
You may understand alchemy, but you're incapable of reconstructing what you've disassembled, aren't you?
Does that make me as arrogant as you?
I've seen Mustang take his coffee black.
I even tried some at one point.
How can anyone stomach that? It tastes like dirt.
It's so bland and vile...
kind of like a certain Colonel.
Before we left for Ishbal, a girl invited me to a cafe two blocks away from the library.
There I ordered an iced cappuccino topped with whipped cream swirled with chocolate syrup.
... upon her request. She also wanted to use two straws.
Nevertheless, it was great.
So, the day we left for Ishbal I picked up another of the mocha variety.
... and then another on the train.
Now I guess you could call me a coffee connoisseur.
It keeps me up, though.
I need to stay up...
But in this deserted campsite, there naturally wouldn't be any way to afford the luxury of a cafe -- or any interest, at that.
I think I'm suffering withdrawal.
Hell, I'd take Mustang's black coffee right now.
But I know better.
I know the Taisa has a sweet tooth that could rot even my cavities.
... or so sources tell me.
These are my thoughts written down on paper
It’s my only savior from not saying what I wanna say.
These are the thoughts that are on my mind
Moments that haven’t yet been defined
And I don’t know if you will ever understand
These are the things I can’t say when we’re alone.
We arrived in Ishbal two nights ago.
And I have written five unsent letters between cards and naps and stops.
Al has managed to confiscate one of them.
I'm not surprised that he's grinning from ear to ear.
It's nothing but jumbled, scattered thoughts addressed to no one... but it's easy enough to tell I had something to say to someone.
I think Al kno--
And now he's looking over my shoulder.
... speaking of Al, I'm undecided as to how to feel about his restoration.
I should be happy... but I can't be blindly happy.
I need to know why it happened -- or, more importantly, how it happened.
Alphonse has been leading me around the town... and the kids recognize him.
We've been staying with a group of them, and Al is the guest of honour.
Something's shady about all of this.
We're alchemists; we're atheists. Maybe this is some sort of set-up to disarm us?
What did Al trade in for his body?
What, what, what?
I'm starting to wonder if the flow of life is truly based on the principle of equivalent exchange.
Because sometimes when you give, it costs you nothing.
Sometimes it's rewarding; sometimes it doesn't give back.
And sometimes, things are taken from you... and you're left with nothing in recompense.
I don't know.
The Ishbalian kids believe in Karma here.
Their parents would probably punish them if they knew.
Karma's like equivalent trade in that I doubt its tenacity and verity as I see more and more inconsistency in both doctrines that blatantly negates them.
... I wonder where Mustang-no-taisa stands on these ideas.