Categories > Anime/Manga > Full Metal Alchemist > Red
Crimson
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Sometimes, she had nightmares. They only came when she felt particularly stressed; either over a commission or sometimes just over life itself. Sometimes, they were about her parents. In her dreams, they walked off the porch of the house, turning once to wave at her, then simply vanished and no matter how hard she ran after, she couldn't find them.
But other nights, she dreamed of crimson; thick and sticky and moving oh so sluggishly as it dripped from Edward's missing limbs. He'd be white, so pale; laying in a pool of blood that slowly rose around her as she frantically tried to staunch the bleeding. But it would keep rising, drowning her ankles and her knees; lapping over Ed's chest until she'd pull him up, trying to hold him against her, anything to keep him from sinking.
The flood was relentless though, and Ed so heavy and slippery that she couldn't keep hold of him. He'd slither out of her arms and the last thing she'd see was his face, his eyes opening in horror and his hand reaching for her, just before he went under.
Winry would wake, panting, gasping, crying and remind herself that Edward had lived, he hadn't died, that he was somewhere out there, looking for the Philosopher's Stone.
But always, for the next few days, it seemed like all she could smell would be the scent of blood.
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Sometimes, she had nightmares. They only came when she felt particularly stressed; either over a commission or sometimes just over life itself. Sometimes, they were about her parents. In her dreams, they walked off the porch of the house, turning once to wave at her, then simply vanished and no matter how hard she ran after, she couldn't find them.
But other nights, she dreamed of crimson; thick and sticky and moving oh so sluggishly as it dripped from Edward's missing limbs. He'd be white, so pale; laying in a pool of blood that slowly rose around her as she frantically tried to staunch the bleeding. But it would keep rising, drowning her ankles and her knees; lapping over Ed's chest until she'd pull him up, trying to hold him against her, anything to keep him from sinking.
The flood was relentless though, and Ed so heavy and slippery that she couldn't keep hold of him. He'd slither out of her arms and the last thing she'd see was his face, his eyes opening in horror and his hand reaching for her, just before he went under.
Winry would wake, panting, gasping, crying and remind herself that Edward had lived, he hadn't died, that he was somewhere out there, looking for the Philosopher's Stone.
But always, for the next few days, it seemed like all she could smell would be the scent of blood.
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