[Fic] Zero Hour
Rating; T
Summary; What did they tell you of first-timers in a battlefield? [Roy, Riza]
Note: Written for iu_fanfiction's 24th challenge // prompt: I'll follow you into the dark. Hello. Been out of writing for quite a long while.
--
They were getting more and more proficient in this little game as of late.
The first weeks of militaristic hell were shared by doubts, unease, sleepless nights. Nightmares that involve grotesque bodies and wrecks and everything else that’s left strewn by war and power. Initially he’d tell her to pull away, retract, never to be seen again, but she insisted on this.
At first sight she had the urge to puke, but knowing she’s dutifully in for more of these in the future, she held it all back.
Their first nights were contained with liquor. Bottles and bottles of it. Roy took them in, drank them to his fulfillment which was never really half-full, no matter how many times he claimed it to be. Afterwards, he would stagger his way headily around the camp in an attempt to find his tent, until she’d catch up with him and show him the way.
She was better at this than he could ever be. Hiding. Pretending.
Out in the battlefield he could bottle it all up.
But in his solitude it could drive him insane.
It’s one of the primary reasons she couldn’t afford to leave his side.
-
They’re playing in the same stage again, waging wars with every intent of winning. It’s a little different this time though, there’s barely a tinge of hesitance. She could shoot someone on the head and not play pretend the next second, he could incinerate his adversaries and not be nauseated at his actions.
More and more proficient, less and less culpable of anything.
By military terms this change was a necessity, but there’s scarcely a humane indication behind this. He thought he might be a madman for so long, having been caught and used in this brutal cycle. And being a madman’s right-hand man? It’s not as scary as realizing it. Or so she thought.
-
At hindsight they’re just in-commands living one hell of a life.
But closer inspection tells one a story of a man trying to ascend the throne by descending to madness, and a woman as the man’s steadfast blade.
--
END
.
Summary; What did they tell you of first-timers in a battlefield? [Roy, Riza]
Note: Written for iu_fanfiction's 24th challenge // prompt: I'll follow you into the dark. Hello. Been out of writing for quite a long while.
--
They were getting more and more proficient in this little game as of late.
The first weeks of militaristic hell were shared by doubts, unease, sleepless nights. Nightmares that involve grotesque bodies and wrecks and everything else that’s left strewn by war and power. Initially he’d tell her to pull away, retract, never to be seen again, but she insisted on this.
At first sight she had the urge to puke, but knowing she’s dutifully in for more of these in the future, she held it all back.
Their first nights were contained with liquor. Bottles and bottles of it. Roy took them in, drank them to his fulfillment which was never really half-full, no matter how many times he claimed it to be. Afterwards, he would stagger his way headily around the camp in an attempt to find his tent, until she’d catch up with him and show him the way.
She was better at this than he could ever be. Hiding. Pretending.
Out in the battlefield he could bottle it all up.
But in his solitude it could drive him insane.
It’s one of the primary reasons she couldn’t afford to leave his side.
-
They’re playing in the same stage again, waging wars with every intent of winning. It’s a little different this time though, there’s barely a tinge of hesitance. She could shoot someone on the head and not play pretend the next second, he could incinerate his adversaries and not be nauseated at his actions.
More and more proficient, less and less culpable of anything.
By military terms this change was a necessity, but there’s scarcely a humane indication behind this. He thought he might be a madman for so long, having been caught and used in this brutal cycle. And being a madman’s right-hand man? It’s not as scary as realizing it. Or so she thought.
-
At hindsight they’re just in-commands living one hell of a life.
But closer inspection tells one a story of a man trying to ascend the throne by descending to madness, and a woman as the man’s steadfast blade.
--
END
.