(no subject)
WHO: Amelia, Al, and Ed
WHERE: That place where the alchemists live.
WHEN: Connected to this log. Had to be separated for logistics purposes. ^^;
WARNINGS: Comic violence. And Chinese food.
SUMMARY: Amelia brings Chinese food, not realizing that Al's had a few changes in his life.
FORMAT: Paragraphical.
Little did Amelia know that Chinese food was cursed.
Oh, not technically, of course. It would be a rather sad ghost who chose to haunt a paper container stuffed with rice, after all. However, Chinese food never made it home to the alchemists' apartment without serious mishap, and of this the girl remained completely unaware. Having stopped at a take-out restaurant, carrying a small stack of plastic-covered foil trays and paper boxes which gave off a warm, spicy scent, Amelia pressed the button for Ed and Al's floor, trying to ignore the nervous butterflies her stomach gave off about elevators. Lina was out yet again that evening . . . rather than sit alone and eat a TV dinner (which oddly enough, she noted, had very little to do with TVs), she'd chosen to go bother Ed and Al. This was completely for their own good, of course, she reasoned; it had nothing to do with the sense of alienation from the city that nagged at her when Lina wasn't there. The city was nice enough in its own way, but amid the myriad of attacks and healings, strange people and strange technology, bits of familiarity and stability were appealing -- any that she could get.
Not that she would admit it. She barely even acknowledged that such a feeling might exist. Pausing on Ed and Al's floor, she shifted her armful of food so that she could press the button to request entrance.
Hopefully they were home. She probably should have asked first.
WHERE: That place where the alchemists live.
WHEN: Connected to this log. Had to be separated for logistics purposes. ^^;
WARNINGS: Comic violence. And Chinese food.
SUMMARY: Amelia brings Chinese food, not realizing that Al's had a few changes in his life.
FORMAT: Paragraphical.
Little did Amelia know that Chinese food was cursed.
Oh, not technically, of course. It would be a rather sad ghost who chose to haunt a paper container stuffed with rice, after all. However, Chinese food never made it home to the alchemists' apartment without serious mishap, and of this the girl remained completely unaware. Having stopped at a take-out restaurant, carrying a small stack of plastic-covered foil trays and paper boxes which gave off a warm, spicy scent, Amelia pressed the button for Ed and Al's floor, trying to ignore the nervous butterflies her stomach gave off about elevators. Lina was out yet again that evening . . . rather than sit alone and eat a TV dinner (which oddly enough, she noted, had very little to do with TVs), she'd chosen to go bother Ed and Al. This was completely for their own good, of course, she reasoned; it had nothing to do with the sense of alienation from the city that nagged at her when Lina wasn't there. The city was nice enough in its own way, but amid the myriad of attacks and healings, strange people and strange technology, bits of familiarity and stability were appealing -- any that she could get.
Not that she would admit it. She barely even acknowledged that such a feeling might exist. Pausing on Ed and Al's floor, she shifted her armful of food so that she could press the button to request entrance.
Hopefully they were home. She probably should have asked first.