WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
lopt, your parcel arrived today and AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! Poor Ed! All that...was the universe TRYING to drive him batshit? And poor Lust! Of all the homunculus, she's the one I felt most for. Such a struggle to be human and then...killed. She was the most human, in my opinion anyway, because she kept pushing in the hopes things would be better and then the "Yes...I want to die." ;_;
I adored the whole end sequence, even if not knowing what happened to Ed at first was nerve-wracking.
Also, Wrath? Is one very, very sick little boy. The whole byplay with Sloth left me with a nasty taste in my mouth.
Title: Father...
Characters: Honheim, Ed
Spoilers: The end of the series.
He was surprised to still be alive - the decay was still there, still barely hidden under the clothes but it no longer spreading. A side-effect of the Gate or simply of being here? He didn't know any more, and frankly, he didn't care.
Ed was where he belonged (or so he told himself firmly) and surely he would be able to help Alphonse. It was no longer his concern - it couldn't be. Still, he thought wistfully as he wandered into the all but deserted park and started to pick his way across the devastated earth. I would have liked just a little more time...just a little.
Hoenheim had stopped believing in God two years before he took cartloads of 'heretics' off the Church's hands to create the Philosopher's Stone but what happened next was almost enough to convince him that there was a God. Who had the mentality of a cruel little child.
The air ...changed a split second before the telltale tang of alchemy fizzled sharply through it. There was a flash and a muted thunderclap...and Edward stumbled out of nothing and straight into Hoenheim's startled arms. He caught a fleeting glimpse of glazed gold before Ed's eyes rolled up in his head and he went limp.
Hoenheim didn't remember the next hour or so except in flashes, like one of the new 'moving picture' things that were being shown at theatres in the bigger cities. Himself, with his eldest son cradled in his arms, running out of the park. The 'oof' when terror that Ed might be dead made him clumsy and he spilt his son onto the single narrow bed. The almost prayer that floated on waves of relief at the soft sound. The steady throb of a pulse beating stoically in the long neck.
He sat by Ed's bedside and stared. He hadn't had a chance to just look before, Ed's anger and betrayal colouring the air. Now he gazed at the young man on the bed and looked at the lean muscles, the clunky metal appendages and the scars peeking out from under the torn clothes. He remembered the harsh bark of a bitter voice...but, lying there in a boneless sprawl, with long blond hair draped across his shoulders and chin, Hoenheim swore he could see the tiny child who'd clung to his hands and laughed while he pulled ludicrious and thoroughly undignified faces.
Ed stirred, brow furrowing slowly and he made a soft rasping sound that hovered on the edge of a sob. It might have been "Al."
Hoenheim reached out, hesitating with his hand almost touching Ed's cheek. Once Ed would have reached out to him...would have hurled himself recklessly into his father's arms for comfort and Hoenheim could have dealt with that. But how to comfort the tormented youth before him now?
Ed took the decision out of his hands entirely, by jerking upright with a strangled cry and staring wildly around. He was panting heavily, eyes unfocused. He blinked and started to shiver violently, making Hoenheim worry that he was on the verge of shaking himself apart. Ed wobbled, still disoriented and woozy and Hoenheim reached out to steady him automatically.
Ed's head lolled sideways and he stared blankly up at his father. Hoenheim went still, hands gentle on his arms.
Ed's whisper was almost inaudible - a soft thread of despair and desperate longing. "Tousan....?"
Of all the things that he had thought death would bring, Hoenheim thought as he held his son in arms that were already a step past rigor mortis, redemption had never featured.
And now to bed so I don't fall into coffee habits tomorrow.
I adored the whole end sequence, even if not knowing what happened to Ed at first was nerve-wracking.
Also, Wrath? Is one very, very sick little boy. The whole byplay with Sloth left me with a nasty taste in my mouth.
Title: Father...
Characters: Honheim, Ed
Spoilers: The end of the series.
He was surprised to still be alive - the decay was still there, still barely hidden under the clothes but it no longer spreading. A side-effect of the Gate or simply of being here? He didn't know any more, and frankly, he didn't care.
Ed was where he belonged (or so he told himself firmly) and surely he would be able to help Alphonse. It was no longer his concern - it couldn't be. Still, he thought wistfully as he wandered into the all but deserted park and started to pick his way across the devastated earth. I would have liked just a little more time...just a little.
Hoenheim had stopped believing in God two years before he took cartloads of 'heretics' off the Church's hands to create the Philosopher's Stone but what happened next was almost enough to convince him that there was a God. Who had the mentality of a cruel little child.
The air ...changed a split second before the telltale tang of alchemy fizzled sharply through it. There was a flash and a muted thunderclap...and Edward stumbled out of nothing and straight into Hoenheim's startled arms. He caught a fleeting glimpse of glazed gold before Ed's eyes rolled up in his head and he went limp.
Hoenheim didn't remember the next hour or so except in flashes, like one of the new 'moving picture' things that were being shown at theatres in the bigger cities. Himself, with his eldest son cradled in his arms, running out of the park. The 'oof' when terror that Ed might be dead made him clumsy and he spilt his son onto the single narrow bed. The almost prayer that floated on waves of relief at the soft sound. The steady throb of a pulse beating stoically in the long neck.
He sat by Ed's bedside and stared. He hadn't had a chance to just look before, Ed's anger and betrayal colouring the air. Now he gazed at the young man on the bed and looked at the lean muscles, the clunky metal appendages and the scars peeking out from under the torn clothes. He remembered the harsh bark of a bitter voice...but, lying there in a boneless sprawl, with long blond hair draped across his shoulders and chin, Hoenheim swore he could see the tiny child who'd clung to his hands and laughed while he pulled ludicrious and thoroughly undignified faces.
Ed stirred, brow furrowing slowly and he made a soft rasping sound that hovered on the edge of a sob. It might have been "Al."
Hoenheim reached out, hesitating with his hand almost touching Ed's cheek. Once Ed would have reached out to him...would have hurled himself recklessly into his father's arms for comfort and Hoenheim could have dealt with that. But how to comfort the tormented youth before him now?
Ed took the decision out of his hands entirely, by jerking upright with a strangled cry and staring wildly around. He was panting heavily, eyes unfocused. He blinked and started to shiver violently, making Hoenheim worry that he was on the verge of shaking himself apart. Ed wobbled, still disoriented and woozy and Hoenheim reached out to steady him automatically.
Ed's head lolled sideways and he stared blankly up at his father. Hoenheim went still, hands gentle on his arms.
Ed's whisper was almost inaudible - a soft thread of despair and desperate longing. "Tousan....?"
Of all the things that he had thought death would bring, Hoenheim thought as he held his son in arms that were already a step past rigor mortis, redemption had never featured.
And now to bed so I don't fall into coffee habits tomorrow.