[A soft jingling sound, followed by a little mewl and a purr.] There you are. ... I thought you'd have these. Asuna isn't very happy with you.

[Purring. This cat is like a motor.] It's okay, I know you just wanted to play with them. Let's go give them back, okay?

[He's silent. A pensive silence. Then, he gives a heavy sigh.]... what does everyone ( Read more... )

[Al's idly playing with the ruffles on his sleeves. He's been relegated to something in dark forest green, gold and white. His hair has grown by now, enough that he's tied it back with a green ribbon to match ( Read more... )

[The video feed turns on. Alphonse is sitting outside -- probably because he can't feel how cold it is. He keeps opening and closing a hand as the steady raindrops blur the screen, as if he can will himself to feel them ( Read more... )

... awww, no. Now all of the roses are dead...

[Al's hand comes onto the screen, he's holding the PCD like a camera, picking up a dried, brittle flower.]

Most of them were dead anyway, but... darn. I wish there was some way to...

[He pauses, and kneels down. Somewhere in the distance, a lone cricket chirps, somehow surviving the heat. It's dark ( Read more... )

[Screeeeeeeeeech ( Read more... )

[Although the feed is wide in scale and shows most of the library, the feed is focused on the bottom of the young man's chin, his neck, and the front of his button-up shirt. His dark blond ponytail trails down past one shoulder. A pen is in his hand, carefully sliding over the paper of the large sketchbook set in front of him ( Read more... )

( Read more... )

I need to get back into training harder.

I've got a few new tricks I want to test out, too. I'll bring the armor, and we can do long-range moving target practice. Would anyone be interested?

[A few light peach flower petals drop down past the feed. Al's boot is swinging several feet above the edge of the fire escape. A crackling radio is playing the background, and every few notes another petal drops. Finally, a stem flutters to the ground. The boots clack to the metal, and the feed jumps, looking up at Al ( Read more... )

[The sounds of clanging metal fill the PCD, along with the smaller, lighter steps of a person. The PCD is facing towards the open sky, the edges of the screen clawed by the branches of dead leafless trees and the edges of buildings. For a few moments there is only sound, and by the impact sounds timed with the edges of a voice, it sounds like a ( Read more... )