Full Metal Alchemist: Memorial Service
Title: Memorial Service
Rating: G - PG
Characters/Pairings: Dante-centric, mentions of ancient time DantexHoho
Genre: Humor-ish, for the sick and twisted, General, mostly, sort of a character study.
Warnings: Spoilers for episode 45, and possibly 44
Disclaimer: I do not own Full Metal Alchemist.
Summary: “After all, she had not even attended her own mother’s funeral.”
Notes: Hmm... Another look into the minds of the sick and twisted! Huzzah! I really loved the last line, and I just sat down one day and thought it up... I was all like, "whoa, that's a really cool line, I need to write a fic." So I did. Originally, it was going to be about Pride!Ed, and Envy telling him it... But that didn't work because Pride wouldn't care enough. This is rather short, I'm afraid. Keep in mind this was probably 390-350 years ago.
Death was a little thing that came at the end of life. It was sometimes sad, sometimes tragic, sometimes painful… And sometimes helpful. Death was something elusive, like a rare wildcat you could only catch a glimpse of through the trees. Or like the color of the sky in the split second before the sun disappeared from view. It was something everyone seeks to understand. To grasp in their hands, to hold the knowledge within their reach… And to be able to triumph over it.
Death could be dramatic. Although, it usually wasn’t flamboyant and wild. It didn’t throw parties and invite men into its private chambers. It didn’t dress in bright colors and jewels. It didn’t flirt with married men and charm hapless servants. And it was most certainly not Lady Cynthia of Terthaneil, who was all of these things.
It was an odd occurrence that the Lady Cynthia had deigned to appear at all. After all, she had not even attended her own mother’s funeral. It was puzzling, to say in the least, that she had come. Perhaps it was out of gratitude for the endless fortunes the old woman had left her, leaving none to her mysterious son or peculiar husband.
Lady Cynthia had never been particularly smart. She’d always been keen and manipulative. She’d always know the right thing to say at the right time. She’d always have witty jokes and easy transitions between topics. However, she’d never been particularly well educated.
Of course she was very different now. She was very refined and intelligent. She was very smart and articulate. She could discuss advanced alchemic theory with some of the leading researchers. No one was quite sure where she’d gotten this brand new education, which appeared to have made her forget all sorts of acquaintances and incidents.
But, then, of course, there were times when she went completely mad. She’d have a party all night long and wake up to scream at the guests and demand they leave at once. Lady Cynthia seemed to have trouble controlling herself sometimes.
Today, she stood in completely black clothes that no one even knew she owned, and watched the funeral procession with a solemn expression. There were few others attending the funeral, the son and husband still curiously missing from the scene.
The priest raised his hands ceremoniously as the casket was lowered into the ground. “May we never forget the great Duchess Dante of Lilitherian’s Rise.” He intoned, clasping his hands for a silent prayer.
Lady Cynthia smiled broadly. It appeared Hohenheim was right after all… It was rather nostalgic to attend your own funeral.
Rating: G - PG
Characters/Pairings: Dante-centric, mentions of ancient time DantexHoho
Genre: Humor-ish, for the sick and twisted, General, mostly, sort of a character study.
Warnings: Spoilers for episode 45, and possibly 44
Disclaimer: I do not own Full Metal Alchemist.
Summary: “After all, she had not even attended her own mother’s funeral.”
Notes: Hmm... Another look into the minds of the sick and twisted! Huzzah! I really loved the last line, and I just sat down one day and thought it up... I was all like, "whoa, that's a really cool line, I need to write a fic." So I did. Originally, it was going to be about Pride!Ed, and Envy telling him it... But that didn't work because Pride wouldn't care enough. This is rather short, I'm afraid. Keep in mind this was probably 390-350 years ago.
Death was a little thing that came at the end of life. It was sometimes sad, sometimes tragic, sometimes painful… And sometimes helpful. Death was something elusive, like a rare wildcat you could only catch a glimpse of through the trees. Or like the color of the sky in the split second before the sun disappeared from view. It was something everyone seeks to understand. To grasp in their hands, to hold the knowledge within their reach… And to be able to triumph over it.
Death could be dramatic. Although, it usually wasn’t flamboyant and wild. It didn’t throw parties and invite men into its private chambers. It didn’t dress in bright colors and jewels. It didn’t flirt with married men and charm hapless servants. And it was most certainly not Lady Cynthia of Terthaneil, who was all of these things.
It was an odd occurrence that the Lady Cynthia had deigned to appear at all. After all, she had not even attended her own mother’s funeral. It was puzzling, to say in the least, that she had come. Perhaps it was out of gratitude for the endless fortunes the old woman had left her, leaving none to her mysterious son or peculiar husband.
Lady Cynthia had never been particularly smart. She’d always been keen and manipulative. She’d always know the right thing to say at the right time. She’d always have witty jokes and easy transitions between topics. However, she’d never been particularly well educated.
Of course she was very different now. She was very refined and intelligent. She was very smart and articulate. She could discuss advanced alchemic theory with some of the leading researchers. No one was quite sure where she’d gotten this brand new education, which appeared to have made her forget all sorts of acquaintances and incidents.
But, then, of course, there were times when she went completely mad. She’d have a party all night long and wake up to scream at the guests and demand they leave at once. Lady Cynthia seemed to have trouble controlling herself sometimes.
Today, she stood in completely black clothes that no one even knew she owned, and watched the funeral procession with a solemn expression. There were few others attending the funeral, the son and husband still curiously missing from the scene.
The priest raised his hands ceremoniously as the casket was lowered into the ground. “May we never forget the great Duchess Dante of Lilitherian’s Rise.” He intoned, clasping his hands for a silent prayer.
Lady Cynthia smiled broadly. It appeared Hohenheim was right after all… It was rather nostalgic to attend your own funeral.