(no subject)
His eyes felt like lava.
He wasn't crying, and his cheeks were dry, but his eyes felt like lava, like a great painful heat was pouring out of him. He was crouched in front of the rubble of the townhome, on the cracked street, etching transmutation circles into his palms with his fingertips. The path of them left a searing red mark.
The war was happening and he had to save the little girl in the rubble, so he clapped his hands together and a wind came form between them, shaking the pebbles and dust, and the pieces of the building lifted up and away, and from the dust the little girl game, whole again, but it wasn't the little girl. It was some sort of animal, Al thought, like a great dog with too-bright eyes.
It spoke to him and he woke up with a hard start, body taught and throat strained as a strangled sob died in it. Alphonse was breathing so hard, he thought there was something pressing on his chest, for a moment.
Then the immediacy of the nightmare sank away, and with it wen his shoulders and head. He dropped his face into his hands, hunching over into a tight curl,trying to get his breathing back under control as quietly as possible, even as the lower half of his body was moving, knees propelling him out of the cart and trippingly down to the sand, so that he might recover without disturbing his cartmates.
He wasn't crying, and his cheeks were dry, but his eyes felt like lava, like a great painful heat was pouring out of him. He was crouched in front of the rubble of the townhome, on the cracked street, etching transmutation circles into his palms with his fingertips. The path of them left a searing red mark.
The war was happening and he had to save the little girl in the rubble, so he clapped his hands together and a wind came form between them, shaking the pebbles and dust, and the pieces of the building lifted up and away, and from the dust the little girl game, whole again, but it wasn't the little girl. It was some sort of animal, Al thought, like a great dog with too-bright eyes.
It spoke to him and he woke up with a hard start, body taught and throat strained as a strangled sob died in it. Alphonse was breathing so hard, he thought there was something pressing on his chest, for a moment.
Then the immediacy of the nightmare sank away, and with it wen his shoulders and head. He dropped his face into his hands, hunching over into a tight curl,trying to get his breathing back under control as quietly as possible, even as the lower half of his body was moving, knees propelling him out of the cart and trippingly down to the sand, so that he might recover without disturbing his cartmates.