FMA Fic: "Music on the Battlefield" 1/1
Title: Music on the Battlefield
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Author: evil_little_dog
Characters/Pairings: Riza Hawkeye
Words: 299
Rating: K+
Summary: Riza studies the city below, and the heat lines rising.
Warnings: Ishbal Arc.
Disclaimer: Arakawa owns all. I just play paper dolls with her characters.
comment_fic prompt: Any, any female, One Girl Army (Five Iron Frenzy); fanfic_bakeoff prompts: Warm/Music.
X X X
The heat of the desert caused mirages, the refracting light strange. Riza took this into account whenever she sighted on a target. It took a few practice shots before she knew how to make adjustments so she could actually aim correctly. Still, it was hard not to distracted by what she could see in those wavering lines rising out of the desert.
Most of the time, there was enough to keep her attention. Between the explosions, smoke and fire coming from the city itself, the ragged screams rising from throats (targets, Riza reminded herself, adjusting the camouflage blanket, protection no matter how warm it was), the chatter of gunfire coming from down below, she had enough to occupy her. She’d sweep the city streets through the scope of her rifle, waiting for the perfect opportunity, then squeezing the trigger, and another body would fall as she moved the muzzle on to another point. Some of her fellow soldiers likened the noise of the battlefield to music, Kimbley one of them.
He’d smile at her through the lens of her scope, two fingers touching his forehead in a salute, then he’d sweep her a bow, gesturing to the remains of the city. Shall we have this dance? And Riza would clamp down a shudder, reminding herself that she was a soldier, and Kimbley was a soldier, one she had to protect, and raised the muzzle so she could see another part of the city.
Kimbley was no mirage, but enough of a distraction that he could put her off her game, and Riza couldn’t allow that, not and protect the Amestrian soldiers. She adjusted the butt of her rifle against her shoulder, looking through the scope again, the heat making waves in the air.
Another mirage, another battlefield, another day.
X X X
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Author: evil_little_dog
Characters/Pairings: Riza Hawkeye
Words: 299
Rating: K+
Summary: Riza studies the city below, and the heat lines rising.
Warnings: Ishbal Arc.
Disclaimer: Arakawa owns all. I just play paper dolls with her characters.
comment_fic prompt: Any, any female, One Girl Army (Five Iron Frenzy); fanfic_bakeoff prompts: Warm/Music.
X X X
The heat of the desert caused mirages, the refracting light strange. Riza took this into account whenever she sighted on a target. It took a few practice shots before she knew how to make adjustments so she could actually aim correctly. Still, it was hard not to distracted by what she could see in those wavering lines rising out of the desert.
Most of the time, there was enough to keep her attention. Between the explosions, smoke and fire coming from the city itself, the ragged screams rising from throats (targets, Riza reminded herself, adjusting the camouflage blanket, protection no matter how warm it was), the chatter of gunfire coming from down below, she had enough to occupy her. She’d sweep the city streets through the scope of her rifle, waiting for the perfect opportunity, then squeezing the trigger, and another body would fall as she moved the muzzle on to another point. Some of her fellow soldiers likened the noise of the battlefield to music, Kimbley one of them.
He’d smile at her through the lens of her scope, two fingers touching his forehead in a salute, then he’d sweep her a bow, gesturing to the remains of the city. Shall we have this dance? And Riza would clamp down a shudder, reminding herself that she was a soldier, and Kimbley was a soldier, one she had to protect, and raised the muzzle so she could see another part of the city.
Kimbley was no mirage, but enough of a distraction that he could put her off her game, and Riza couldn’t allow that, not and protect the Amestrian soldiers. She adjusted the butt of her rifle against her shoulder, looking through the scope again, the heat making waves in the air.
Another mirage, another battlefield, another day.
X X X