Don't Forget Challenge! (My contribution)
Homesick
evil_little_dog
Summary: Edward daydreams of home.
Rating: K
Disclaimer: I promise to put the toys back where I found them. Honest.
A.N.: Thanks to leni_ba for the first read through.
A.N. 2: Happy 3 October. :D
Characters: Edward (Ed/Winry)
Warnings: None...er...2nd Person POV, present tense. Because I like writing that way. :D
* * *
It hits you at strange times, like when you realize you’ve been staring out the same train window at the landscape for hours on end but don’t remember what you’ve seen. You only realize that hours have passed from the movement of the sun and the way your butt aches, having remained in the same position for so long. Stretching would do little to relieve the tension of being in that pose; besides, it isn’t the sitting that’s disturbing you.
It’s the lack of green, rolling hills, dotted with sheep; that smell of lanolin and mutton that permeates the air; the whisper of the river, brushing the reeds near the shore; the sounds of metal, being shaped into limbs for people like you; the scent of pipe smoke and the gravelly voice speaking in that familiar, Rezembool accent; the bark of a dog and feel of her wet tongue, swiping across your face; the sharp pain of a wrench, upside your skull -
- and her sweet smile, welcoming you home.
* * *
evil_little_dog
Summary: Edward daydreams of home.
Rating: K
Disclaimer: I promise to put the toys back where I found them. Honest.
A.N.: Thanks to leni_ba for the first read through.
A.N. 2: Happy 3 October. :D
Characters: Edward (Ed/Winry)
Warnings: None...er...2nd Person POV, present tense. Because I like writing that way. :D
* * *
It hits you at strange times, like when you realize you’ve been staring out the same train window at the landscape for hours on end but don’t remember what you’ve seen. You only realize that hours have passed from the movement of the sun and the way your butt aches, having remained in the same position for so long. Stretching would do little to relieve the tension of being in that pose; besides, it isn’t the sitting that’s disturbing you.
It’s the lack of green, rolling hills, dotted with sheep; that smell of lanolin and mutton that permeates the air; the whisper of the river, brushing the reeds near the shore; the sounds of metal, being shaped into limbs for people like you; the scent of pipe smoke and the gravelly voice speaking in that familiar, Rezembool accent; the bark of a dog and feel of her wet tongue, swiping across your face; the sharp pain of a wrench, upside your skull -
- and her sweet smile, welcoming you home.
* * *