[Gatekeeper, or; what came before]
The room was white, and very, very large.
Ed put a hand to the side of his face. His flesh chilled at the touch--automail fingers, some detached part of him noticed. That was...good, right? Right, it was good. Automail meant that his side of the ledger was clear, now. A debt had been cleared. Free and equivalent--
--trade.
Ed blinked. He placed a hand on his stomach; deep down, he felt something tie itself together and choke the flow of blood through his body.
He looked around. The white room went as far as he could see; now that he thought about it, he wasn't so sure this was a room at all. He wasn't so sure it was a place, really. It felt like the sort of somewhere that places hoped to be, or maybe feared to become.
Everything was so hazy and unclear. He remembered a voice, shouting in the dark, but he couldn't make out what the voice was saying. The memory of smoke filled his lungs, but the air in the white room--place--was as clean and clear as any that Ed had ever breathed, the whole of his life. It should've been scary, or maybe a moment of something like transcendence, but it was neither. There was somebody else here with him a moment ago, he was sure of it, and that absence made all the difference in the world. Somebody talking to him, somebody telling him everything was going to be okay, somebody who promised and received a promise in turn and who--
--who--
--Oh. Right.
Ed shook his head. Now, where was he?
He had to head on back. Al would be waiting for him, and his little brother never did know better than to stay up till he got home, even when Ed told him not to bother.
Idiot, he thought fondly. The twist in his stomach straightened itself out.
Ed smiled. Well. No sense in wasting time. He put his hands together, then placed them over his chest, right so where he could feel his lungs inflating inside him like balloons trying to tickle the sky.
He closed the gate.
Ed put a hand to the side of his face. His flesh chilled at the touch--automail fingers, some detached part of him noticed. That was...good, right? Right, it was good. Automail meant that his side of the ledger was clear, now. A debt had been cleared. Free and equivalent--
--trade.
Ed blinked. He placed a hand on his stomach; deep down, he felt something tie itself together and choke the flow of blood through his body.
He looked around. The white room went as far as he could see; now that he thought about it, he wasn't so sure this was a room at all. He wasn't so sure it was a place, really. It felt like the sort of somewhere that places hoped to be, or maybe feared to become.
Everything was so hazy and unclear. He remembered a voice, shouting in the dark, but he couldn't make out what the voice was saying. The memory of smoke filled his lungs, but the air in the white room--place--was as clean and clear as any that Ed had ever breathed, the whole of his life. It should've been scary, or maybe a moment of something like transcendence, but it was neither. There was somebody else here with him a moment ago, he was sure of it, and that absence made all the difference in the world. Somebody talking to him, somebody telling him everything was going to be okay, somebody who promised and received a promise in turn and who--
--who--
--Oh. Right.
Ed shook his head. Now, where was he?
He had to head on back. Al would be waiting for him, and his little brother never did know better than to stay up till he got home, even when Ed told him not to bother.
Idiot, he thought fondly. The twist in his stomach straightened itself out.
Ed smiled. Well. No sense in wasting time. He put his hands together, then placed them over his chest, right so where he could feel his lungs inflating inside him like balloons trying to tickle the sky.
He closed the gate.