The Better To See You With [Fullmetal Alchemist, Kimblee: eye]
Title: The Better To See You With
Author: seta_suzume
Words: 1,644
Theme: Table 2, #10 eye
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: FMA doesn't belong to me~ I will put back the toys when I'm done!
Author's comments: Kimblee meets her first alchemy teacher.
"You're an alchemist, aren't you?"
Marianne Leguard turned away from her fumbling with keys and purse and bags of groceries to look into her garden. Just to the left of her favorite rose bush stood a little girl. A nicely dressed little girl, with her hair pulled back tightly into a ponytail, topped by a large, matching bow. This was a familiar girl. A well-off girl. One Marianne had seen in town more than a few times before. Of course, that didn't mean she knew who she was. She didn't pay much attention to kids.
"How long have you been waiting for me to show up?" she asked, avoiding the question. Sure, she was an alchemist, but this doll-like brat didn't have to learn that. At least not right off the bat. ...How had this girl gotten the idea that she might be an alchemist in the first place?
"'Bout an hour, ma'am," her unexpected guest announced politely. She brushed the back of her hand against her dress, knocking off several bits of dry grass that clung to the hem. She had probably been sitting or kneeling on the lawn while she waited for Marianne's return. The thick growth on her rosebushes this year had masked her visitor from her sight as she walked up to the door.
"What in heaven's name possessed you to do that, dear?" Marianne could not keep a note of condescension out of her voice. She shuffled the trio of brown paper bags in her arms, readjusting their weight. It wasn't like she didn't have time to waste with this girl, but given the choice she'd prefer to do it without her arms overloaded on her doorstep. She looked away from the girl and finished opening the door.
"Because I heard that you're an alchemist. There aren't any other alchemists in Fernburg," she answered matter-of-factly.
All business this one, huh? It didn't particularly impress Marianne, but it wasn't the norm either. She stepped inside, regardless of whether her visitor would consider this rude or not, and dumped the bags, her red purse, and her keys down onto the table in a jumbled heap. She shook the slight ache from her wrists and returned to her porch.
The girl had left the garden and was now perched on her bottom step. For the first time, Marianne looked seriously into her eyes. They were heavy-lidded and yellow and somehow they struck her as very adult. (Mature? Knowing? What would be the best way to explain it?) They were the sort of eyes that made her change her mind- at least a tiny bit- about her previous coldness. "What's your name?"
"Sol J. Kimblee. And you're Marianne Leguard."
"You know your stuff," Marianne replied. She strutted over, her red heels clacking against the treated wood, and sat down on the top step, crossing her long legs. "Of course, I suppose you would know that much about me before showing up on my doorstep. You've got to tell me though, why were you in the yard? You could've waited where you are now. Or by the door."
"I thought you wouldn't like it. If I were the first thing you saw when you walked up to your door, we'd be starting things off on the wrong foot. You'd think I was a presumptuous brat." Sol crossed her legs in an exact imitation of Marianne.
"Ooh, tough luck. I still think you're a presumptuous brat," the alchemist laughed. Kids, even smart kids like this, could be so darn weird.
Sol, it appeared, was even weirder than most. Marianne had said it hoping to see her pout, but her expression remained schooled and calm. A hint of a smile lingered in the corners of her eyes. Actually, it was not just weird, it was sort of creepy. Okay, so it might not be nice for Marianne to taunt a kid like that, but even an adult would've responded to her teasing somehow. She wasn't exactly sure where to go with their conversation after this. "Um. So. You got me, Sol. We're talking. What are you doing here?"
"It depends on whether or not you're really an alchemist, ma'am."
She wasn't bad at playing this game. "Tricky, tricky," Marianne thought. Well, it was something to do. It wasn't like telling Sol would change things much. Might as well spill the beans. "Yeah, I am."
"I don't think you're lying," Sol said.
"Geez," Marianne tsk-tsked to herself, "What a crazy kid. She thinks I'm going to lie to her?"
"That means I have a favor to ask you, ma'am." She uncrossed her legs so she could turn all the way around and face the woman in her flashy red clothes. "Make me your apprentice. I want to learn everything I can about alchemy."
"Okay, let's get things straight, Sol," Marianne set her hands on her legs and leaned forward, coming eye to eye with her pushy young guest, "I think it's very cute and all that you'd come out here and wait for the perfect moment to ask me to be your teacher, but that doesn't mean I'm going to do it. I'm not interested in passing on my alchemy. I don't take students. And even if I did, I don't think I'd go for rich little brats like you. I get the feeling that you're too smart for your own good."
"I think you're being too quick to judge me," Sol countered sharply, leaning closer herself. "I wouldn't be a bad student because I'm young or rich or bratty, and certainly not because I'm smart- that could only be a mark in my favor. The only reason I could be a bad student for you is because I'd turn out better than you and you couldn't stand that. You were a State Alchemist for a couple of years. I heard all about it from Mr. Gaspard. But you couldn't keep on producing the kind of results the government likes to see, so you lost your license and you moved out here to hide from your disgrace."
"You knew all that and yet you still asked me if I was an alchemist? You squint-eyed shrew!" Marianne shrieked. She was a fiery-tempered woman, easily moved by her many passions to act before she had fully thought things through. She reached out and struck Sol with a resounding slap to the cheek.
Now that was something Sol did not have a smart response to. She flinched away, falling off the step onto the solid stone of Marianne's walkway, reaching up and touching her stinging, pink cheek.
Marianne clutched her hand against her chest. She could feel the blood rushing through it, almost pounding. Her face was still hot with anger, though she had already begun to wonder why she had taken such aggressive action against Sol. She was, after all, just a girl (albeit a loud-mouthed, over-informed one). It felt like a slow transition as she thought it over, but it must've all occurred in a matter of seconds as Sol stared back at her attacker in absolute shock (she had never been struck by an adult before). Marianne's emotions shuddered from anger to vague remorse to a gripping fear- what would happen to her if Sol reported this incident to her parents? Marianne was already an outsider living on the outskirts of this community. And Sol's parents- they were well-established citizens of Fernburg. They had local political clout. ...As if one disgrace in the past three years wasn't bad enough...
"You really have some anger issues, don't you?" Sol whispered. She didn't actually sound that afraid. Marianne judged it as something more like awe. Which was weird. But not really that weird in light of the rest of Sol's behavior. Marianne really couldn't complain. She was just glad that the odds of Sol Kimblee rushing home to her father in tears and said father using every ounce of his influence to get her evicted appeared to be dropping by the moment.
"Yes," Marianne said coolly. She didn't know why, but her voice issued forth almost as softly as Sol's. "Yes, I do."
"You should work on that. It's kind of immature."
"You should watch what you say to adults. You have a kind of big mouth," Marianne shot back, although now her words were icy rather than hot. She wouldn't do something so rash as to strike a child again so soon, but that didn't mean she could help from getting her hackles raised by this clear tossing aside of good manners.
"I don't have to listen to what you tell me. Unless you're agreeing to be my teacher, that is," Sol's lips quirked up into a strange smile.
Yes, she really was a sharp one. "What goes on between a teacher and her pupil is private, okay?" Marianne answered. If that was what it took, maybe she could play this game too. Somehow or other she'd either scare Sol off with all the work or she'd come to like the girl. Both of those outcomes were acceptable." Fine. She had decided. Sol could be her pupil.
"Of course. You're the boss, teacher," Sol dropped her hand from her cheek.
Marianne stood up and turned back toward her open door. "Hmm. "Teacher." I like the sound of that." She took a few steps forward, then looked back when she saw that Sol wasn't following her. "Well? C'mon. Don't you want to have a cup of tea and get acquainted?"
"Ah, yes, teacher!" Sol squeaked, hopping to her feet. Her little black and white saddle shoes clicked against the floor. Marianne held the door, then carefully closed it behind her. Sol's outfit was just precious, but her mind was absolutely devious. Then again, Marianne reflected, when she was just a girl, she had been something of a firecracker herself...
Author: seta_suzume
Words: 1,644
Theme: Table 2, #10 eye
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: FMA doesn't belong to me~ I will put back the toys when I'm done!
Author's comments: Kimblee meets her first alchemy teacher.
"You're an alchemist, aren't you?"
Marianne Leguard turned away from her fumbling with keys and purse and bags of groceries to look into her garden. Just to the left of her favorite rose bush stood a little girl. A nicely dressed little girl, with her hair pulled back tightly into a ponytail, topped by a large, matching bow. This was a familiar girl. A well-off girl. One Marianne had seen in town more than a few times before. Of course, that didn't mean she knew who she was. She didn't pay much attention to kids.
"How long have you been waiting for me to show up?" she asked, avoiding the question. Sure, she was an alchemist, but this doll-like brat didn't have to learn that. At least not right off the bat. ...How had this girl gotten the idea that she might be an alchemist in the first place?
"'Bout an hour, ma'am," her unexpected guest announced politely. She brushed the back of her hand against her dress, knocking off several bits of dry grass that clung to the hem. She had probably been sitting or kneeling on the lawn while she waited for Marianne's return. The thick growth on her rosebushes this year had masked her visitor from her sight as she walked up to the door.
"What in heaven's name possessed you to do that, dear?" Marianne could not keep a note of condescension out of her voice. She shuffled the trio of brown paper bags in her arms, readjusting their weight. It wasn't like she didn't have time to waste with this girl, but given the choice she'd prefer to do it without her arms overloaded on her doorstep. She looked away from the girl and finished opening the door.
"Because I heard that you're an alchemist. There aren't any other alchemists in Fernburg," she answered matter-of-factly.
All business this one, huh? It didn't particularly impress Marianne, but it wasn't the norm either. She stepped inside, regardless of whether her visitor would consider this rude or not, and dumped the bags, her red purse, and her keys down onto the table in a jumbled heap. She shook the slight ache from her wrists and returned to her porch.
The girl had left the garden and was now perched on her bottom step. For the first time, Marianne looked seriously into her eyes. They were heavy-lidded and yellow and somehow they struck her as very adult. (Mature? Knowing? What would be the best way to explain it?) They were the sort of eyes that made her change her mind- at least a tiny bit- about her previous coldness. "What's your name?"
"Sol J. Kimblee. And you're Marianne Leguard."
"You know your stuff," Marianne replied. She strutted over, her red heels clacking against the treated wood, and sat down on the top step, crossing her long legs. "Of course, I suppose you would know that much about me before showing up on my doorstep. You've got to tell me though, why were you in the yard? You could've waited where you are now. Or by the door."
"I thought you wouldn't like it. If I were the first thing you saw when you walked up to your door, we'd be starting things off on the wrong foot. You'd think I was a presumptuous brat." Sol crossed her legs in an exact imitation of Marianne.
"Ooh, tough luck. I still think you're a presumptuous brat," the alchemist laughed. Kids, even smart kids like this, could be so darn weird.
Sol, it appeared, was even weirder than most. Marianne had said it hoping to see her pout, but her expression remained schooled and calm. A hint of a smile lingered in the corners of her eyes. Actually, it was not just weird, it was sort of creepy. Okay, so it might not be nice for Marianne to taunt a kid like that, but even an adult would've responded to her teasing somehow. She wasn't exactly sure where to go with their conversation after this. "Um. So. You got me, Sol. We're talking. What are you doing here?"
"It depends on whether or not you're really an alchemist, ma'am."
She wasn't bad at playing this game. "Tricky, tricky," Marianne thought. Well, it was something to do. It wasn't like telling Sol would change things much. Might as well spill the beans. "Yeah, I am."
"I don't think you're lying," Sol said.
"Geez," Marianne tsk-tsked to herself, "What a crazy kid. She thinks I'm going to lie to her?"
"That means I have a favor to ask you, ma'am." She uncrossed her legs so she could turn all the way around and face the woman in her flashy red clothes. "Make me your apprentice. I want to learn everything I can about alchemy."
"Okay, let's get things straight, Sol," Marianne set her hands on her legs and leaned forward, coming eye to eye with her pushy young guest, "I think it's very cute and all that you'd come out here and wait for the perfect moment to ask me to be your teacher, but that doesn't mean I'm going to do it. I'm not interested in passing on my alchemy. I don't take students. And even if I did, I don't think I'd go for rich little brats like you. I get the feeling that you're too smart for your own good."
"I think you're being too quick to judge me," Sol countered sharply, leaning closer herself. "I wouldn't be a bad student because I'm young or rich or bratty, and certainly not because I'm smart- that could only be a mark in my favor. The only reason I could be a bad student for you is because I'd turn out better than you and you couldn't stand that. You were a State Alchemist for a couple of years. I heard all about it from Mr. Gaspard. But you couldn't keep on producing the kind of results the government likes to see, so you lost your license and you moved out here to hide from your disgrace."
"You knew all that and yet you still asked me if I was an alchemist? You squint-eyed shrew!" Marianne shrieked. She was a fiery-tempered woman, easily moved by her many passions to act before she had fully thought things through. She reached out and struck Sol with a resounding slap to the cheek.
Now that was something Sol did not have a smart response to. She flinched away, falling off the step onto the solid stone of Marianne's walkway, reaching up and touching her stinging, pink cheek.
Marianne clutched her hand against her chest. She could feel the blood rushing through it, almost pounding. Her face was still hot with anger, though she had already begun to wonder why she had taken such aggressive action against Sol. She was, after all, just a girl (albeit a loud-mouthed, over-informed one). It felt like a slow transition as she thought it over, but it must've all occurred in a matter of seconds as Sol stared back at her attacker in absolute shock (she had never been struck by an adult before). Marianne's emotions shuddered from anger to vague remorse to a gripping fear- what would happen to her if Sol reported this incident to her parents? Marianne was already an outsider living on the outskirts of this community. And Sol's parents- they were well-established citizens of Fernburg. They had local political clout. ...As if one disgrace in the past three years wasn't bad enough...
"You really have some anger issues, don't you?" Sol whispered. She didn't actually sound that afraid. Marianne judged it as something more like awe. Which was weird. But not really that weird in light of the rest of Sol's behavior. Marianne really couldn't complain. She was just glad that the odds of Sol Kimblee rushing home to her father in tears and said father using every ounce of his influence to get her evicted appeared to be dropping by the moment.
"Yes," Marianne said coolly. She didn't know why, but her voice issued forth almost as softly as Sol's. "Yes, I do."
"You should work on that. It's kind of immature."
"You should watch what you say to adults. You have a kind of big mouth," Marianne shot back, although now her words were icy rather than hot. She wouldn't do something so rash as to strike a child again so soon, but that didn't mean she could help from getting her hackles raised by this clear tossing aside of good manners.
"I don't have to listen to what you tell me. Unless you're agreeing to be my teacher, that is," Sol's lips quirked up into a strange smile.
Yes, she really was a sharp one. "What goes on between a teacher and her pupil is private, okay?" Marianne answered. If that was what it took, maybe she could play this game too. Somehow or other she'd either scare Sol off with all the work or she'd come to like the girl. Both of those outcomes were acceptable." Fine. She had decided. Sol could be her pupil.
"Of course. You're the boss, teacher," Sol dropped her hand from her cheek.
Marianne stood up and turned back toward her open door. "Hmm. "Teacher." I like the sound of that." She took a few steps forward, then looked back when she saw that Sol wasn't following her. "Well? C'mon. Don't you want to have a cup of tea and get acquainted?"
"Ah, yes, teacher!" Sol squeaked, hopping to her feet. Her little black and white saddle shoes clicked against the floor. Marianne held the door, then carefully closed it behind her. Sol's outfit was just precious, but her mind was absolutely devious. Then again, Marianne reflected, when she was just a girl, she had been something of a firecracker herself...