07-25-2018, 06:14 PM
[font=trebuchet ms]/tw for italicized section: guns, blood, mentions of genocide
It had indeed been a long week, over which Riza had been thinking quite a bit too.
The pieces, and even the rules of the game had changed. There was still a king, and a queen, and the goal of the game was to protect the king- but she was protecting him for his own sake now, not for their country, they were very likely outnumbered, and neither they nor the opposing side was limited in terms of what they could do to get ahead. Even setting aside the matter of strategy, they had no laws governing them, no rules that they had to follow lest their entire scheme fall through.
Through thick and thin, they had always been at each other’s side- if not literally, then at least proverbially. The world could come to a violent end, but as long as they had each other, they knew they would find a way. Perhaps it was presumptuous to say so about Roy, but by now she knew him so well that she felt such predictions would be spot-on.
She recalled specifically that in the one moment when she thought he was gone, that Lust had finally stopped the man she knew was unstoppable, everything had come crashing down around her.
She could hear nothing besides the ringing in her ears.
One bullet became two. Two bullets became four. Four bullets became eight as she unloaded the entire clip into the advancing homunculus, each shot intended to kill. Two bullets struck its forehead. Three hit its exposed chest. One landed square in the stomach. Two hit the side.
All would have been fatal for a human and yet it just kept advancing. Nothing changed.
Unholstering her second gun, she fired again- eight times, all eight landing in the vital areas, and yet it kept advancing, unfazed, unchanging.
The third gun was strapped to her back. Even with her shaking hands, she took it and fired again.
One shot, directly to the forehead. A tall bald man toppling over, as she watched the wound mar his hardened face.
Four shots into the chest. Four men- perhaps family, perhaps not- aiming their pistols directly at her, despite knowing they could never hope to strike true at this distance.
Two shots into the stomach. A mother, fleeing desperately into the wilderness, her wounded child clinging to her back- turning to look back for just one moment.
A small white-haired girl staring up at her mother’s killer, her lone red eye widened in panic.
One shot through the eye.
No amount of bullets could fix the damage she had done.
No amount of bullets could put an end to the creature right in front of her, Mustang’s blood staining its dress, a wicked grin on its face- not even the remnants of a bullet wound on its pale skin.
The plan to expose their crimes to Amestris had been entirely Mustang’s idea. He had given her a reason to live, if only for long enough that she could be properly tried and, almost certainly, executed. Yet, she suspected that this encounter would have ended with her broken, on the floor, without a reason to live regardless of whether or not there had been any plan to begin with.
Without him, what was the point?
Perhaps she had known even before then that there was more to their relationship than what was on the surface, but all of it could be rationalized easily enough. Their secretive looks, their conversations on the phone, were all to service the plan. Their trust in one another was because of the fact that neither could expose the other without exposing themselves, no more and no less.
There was no mistaking what she had done in the Third Laboratory. People didn’t lose hope entirely at the mere suggestion that an accomplice was dead. People like her, especially, didn’t scream simply because their plans had been foiled.
Someone like her would not have given up the will to live and then regained it the moment that partner arrived in a blaze of glory, if that partner was just a partner.
She hadn’t known what to do about it then. Even now, she didn’t know where to begin. The two months spent out in the wilderness had offered some time to process what was going on within her mind, when she wasn’t trying to figure out how they were going to return to Amestris, but even then all it had told her was that she most definitely was in love with Roy Mustang.
Which a) she had subconsciously known for a long time, and b) was no help at all.
Part of her had wondered if the anti-fraternization laws were the only reason they had never even gone on a date, and that if the laws were abolished, they would be all over each other. Evidently, it was not that simple. Maybe in a regular relationship between civilians one could just bring up the idea of romance and the two would progress from there- but she and Mustang were war criminals in all but name, had agreed to a pact where she would kill him if he turned away from his ideals, had been thrown out of their home world due to a transmutation accident... so much had happened that up to now, such a thing had seemed a frivolity.
Maybe Mustang had a better understanding of the matter than she did- and the fact that she even had to think that proved her point exactly.
When Mustang opened her door and ordered her to follow him, Riza did exactly that, one brow raised curiously. He wanted to speak to her, but didn’t want to do it in her room? Did he wish to discuss it in his room? She couldn’t imagine any scenario in which one would be preferable, but he must have had his reasons (and if he didn’t, she could give him a difficult time later).
As he stopped in the middle of the Grand Circle, she couldn’t help but notice several others gathering nearby- all of whom seemed to be watching them, as if expecting a spectacle. Turning her gaze back to Mustang, looking him in the eyes, she asked, ”And what did you need to discuss that everyone has to be present for?”
Suiteheart’s smile would suggest that she was in on... whatever Mustang was about to pull. Was he going to confess the way he had felt for (presumably) years? If so, why was he going to do so publicly? It would be just as binding in private.
It had indeed been a long week, over which Riza had been thinking quite a bit too.
The pieces, and even the rules of the game had changed. There was still a king, and a queen, and the goal of the game was to protect the king- but she was protecting him for his own sake now, not for their country, they were very likely outnumbered, and neither they nor the opposing side was limited in terms of what they could do to get ahead. Even setting aside the matter of strategy, they had no laws governing them, no rules that they had to follow lest their entire scheme fall through.
Through thick and thin, they had always been at each other’s side- if not literally, then at least proverbially. The world could come to a violent end, but as long as they had each other, they knew they would find a way. Perhaps it was presumptuous to say so about Roy, but by now she knew him so well that she felt such predictions would be spot-on.
She recalled specifically that in the one moment when she thought he was gone, that Lust had finally stopped the man she knew was unstoppable, everything had come crashing down around her.
She could hear nothing besides the ringing in her ears.
One bullet became two. Two bullets became four. Four bullets became eight as she unloaded the entire clip into the advancing homunculus, each shot intended to kill. Two bullets struck its forehead. Three hit its exposed chest. One landed square in the stomach. Two hit the side.
All would have been fatal for a human and yet it just kept advancing. Nothing changed.
Unholstering her second gun, she fired again- eight times, all eight landing in the vital areas, and yet it kept advancing, unfazed, unchanging.
The third gun was strapped to her back. Even with her shaking hands, she took it and fired again.
One shot, directly to the forehead. A tall bald man toppling over, as she watched the wound mar his hardened face.
Four shots into the chest. Four men- perhaps family, perhaps not- aiming their pistols directly at her, despite knowing they could never hope to strike true at this distance.
Two shots into the stomach. A mother, fleeing desperately into the wilderness, her wounded child clinging to her back- turning to look back for just one moment.
A small white-haired girl staring up at her mother’s killer, her lone red eye widened in panic.
One shot through the eye.
No amount of bullets could fix the damage she had done.
No amount of bullets could put an end to the creature right in front of her, Mustang’s blood staining its dress, a wicked grin on its face- not even the remnants of a bullet wound on its pale skin.
The plan to expose their crimes to Amestris had been entirely Mustang’s idea. He had given her a reason to live, if only for long enough that she could be properly tried and, almost certainly, executed. Yet, she suspected that this encounter would have ended with her broken, on the floor, without a reason to live regardless of whether or not there had been any plan to begin with.
Without him, what was the point?
Perhaps she had known even before then that there was more to their relationship than what was on the surface, but all of it could be rationalized easily enough. Their secretive looks, their conversations on the phone, were all to service the plan. Their trust in one another was because of the fact that neither could expose the other without exposing themselves, no more and no less.
There was no mistaking what she had done in the Third Laboratory. People didn’t lose hope entirely at the mere suggestion that an accomplice was dead. People like her, especially, didn’t scream simply because their plans had been foiled.
Someone like her would not have given up the will to live and then regained it the moment that partner arrived in a blaze of glory, if that partner was just a partner.
She hadn’t known what to do about it then. Even now, she didn’t know where to begin. The two months spent out in the wilderness had offered some time to process what was going on within her mind, when she wasn’t trying to figure out how they were going to return to Amestris, but even then all it had told her was that she most definitely was in love with Roy Mustang.
Which a) she had subconsciously known for a long time, and b) was no help at all.
Part of her had wondered if the anti-fraternization laws were the only reason they had never even gone on a date, and that if the laws were abolished, they would be all over each other. Evidently, it was not that simple. Maybe in a regular relationship between civilians one could just bring up the idea of romance and the two would progress from there- but she and Mustang were war criminals in all but name, had agreed to a pact where she would kill him if he turned away from his ideals, had been thrown out of their home world due to a transmutation accident... so much had happened that up to now, such a thing had seemed a frivolity.
Maybe Mustang had a better understanding of the matter than she did- and the fact that she even had to think that proved her point exactly.
When Mustang opened her door and ordered her to follow him, Riza did exactly that, one brow raised curiously. He wanted to speak to her, but didn’t want to do it in her room? Did he wish to discuss it in his room? She couldn’t imagine any scenario in which one would be preferable, but he must have had his reasons (and if he didn’t, she could give him a difficult time later).
As he stopped in the middle of the Grand Circle, she couldn’t help but notice several others gathering nearby- all of whom seemed to be watching them, as if expecting a spectacle. Turning her gaze back to Mustang, looking him in the eyes, she asked, ”And what did you need to discuss that everyone has to be present for?”
Suiteheart’s smile would suggest that she was in on... whatever Mustang was about to pull. Was he going to confess the way he had felt for (presumably) years? If so, why was he going to do so publicly? It would be just as binding in private.
[font=trebuchet ms]some weirdo