Categories > Anime/Manga > Full Metal Alchemist
ic, (birth-death). (Epitaph).
Except this time it wasn't one tear, one terrible day for rain, it was many. Hundreds, over a span of years, in the darkest parts of the night when no one, not even Riza, was present to witness them.
The crowd of people attending his funeral was so large, lots didn't even have the privilege of viewing the actual procession; instead resorting to reaching out to others and interlinking hands in a show of unity and strength.
The Ishballans, for their part, respectfully bowed their heads as they sent a myriad of silent prayers to their god, asking that this golden-haired miracle that had blessed them with his presence might be offered a spot in their religion's heaven. Edward deserved it.
As gunshots rang out into the open air, Roy Mustang gently held the folded flag, as it was the only remnant he had left of his lover, after having been cruelly stripped of all he held dear by an as yet unnamed illness which had struck down Edward's mother many years ago, and now Edward himself.
With every shot, the ravenette's only show of emotion was to clutch down on the flag, reminded time after time that what he once had was here no longer.
Every single piercing noise was yet another stab into Roy's soul, shredding it into piece after piece after piece.
After many hours, everyone else had already paid their respects and left, but not before leaving behind pieces of themselves in the form of flowers, words and written blessings. Riza did likewise. She approached her best friend, placed a hand on his stiff shoulder. He didn't budge. She patted him once and departed, giving Roy the space that he needed.
Though if he had it his way, he might not even leave...ever. But as Führer, he had things to get done. Taking his hat off, Mustang knelt, placed the wreath on the grave and snapped his fingers, setting it ablaze as a tribute to his one, his only. His Fullmetal.
Roy watched the flames flicker about, nature reclaiming the wreath bit by bit. He gazed at the display until it was nothing more than a pile of ashes, and he continued to stare long after the last traces of evanescent smoke had dissipated into nothing.
The sky waxed orange as sunset came, and he finally left.
Alphonse Elric and Winry were the most outwardly devastated by it, breaking down into sobs not even halfway through the funeral, clinging to each other like their whole world had deserted them. But Roy, oh poor Roy. He was the most broken, insides crushed, so crushed as to feel almost nothing at all.
Roy walked, hands in pockets, down the dirt path leading out of the cemetery feeling just that. Nothing, but a dull ache that lingered in the back of his mind somewhere behind emptiness. He wondered idly if this is what Alphonse had suffered through for years before he'd gotten his body back.
It was fitting that one so beautiful should be forever at rest here. The field was relaxing. Even if it was full of death.
Small flowers were scattered sporadically about the short grass swaying in the breeze. From one of them came a small flying thing which alit on Roy's shoulder.
He didn't care much what it was, only that it was something alive which mocked him with its beauty. He brushed it away and it came back, twice. Roy could feel irritation setting in. The third time he turned to see what it was which insisted on bothering him.
'Twas just a butterfly. A unusual butterfly of golden hue, clinging to Roy's shoulder. He looked at it, and it looked at him, fluttering slightly. Smiling, Roy decided maybe he did believe in little miracles.
"Look at you," he spoke, choking up, "you're even smaller now. If you get any tinier, I won't be ab-"
The butterfly floated away on wings light as air.
"Able to find you." Roy reached out vaguely in its direction, grasping at nothing in particular.
"Please... Come back." He cried softly, head in his hands.
.
Except this time it wasn't one tear, one terrible day for rain, it was many. Hundreds, over a span of years, in the darkest parts of the night when no one, not even Riza, was present to witness them.
The crowd of people attending his funeral was so large, lots didn't even have the privilege of viewing the actual procession; instead resorting to reaching out to others and interlinking hands in a show of unity and strength.
The Ishballans, for their part, respectfully bowed their heads as they sent a myriad of silent prayers to their god, asking that this golden-haired miracle that had blessed them with his presence might be offered a spot in their religion's heaven. Edward deserved it.
As gunshots rang out into the open air, Roy Mustang gently held the folded flag, as it was the only remnant he had left of his lover, after having been cruelly stripped of all he held dear by an as yet unnamed illness which had struck down Edward's mother many years ago, and now Edward himself.
With every shot, the ravenette's only show of emotion was to clutch down on the flag, reminded time after time that what he once had was here no longer.
Every single piercing noise was yet another stab into Roy's soul, shredding it into piece after piece after piece.
After many hours, everyone else had already paid their respects and left, but not before leaving behind pieces of themselves in the form of flowers, words and written blessings. Riza did likewise. She approached her best friend, placed a hand on his stiff shoulder. He didn't budge. She patted him once and departed, giving Roy the space that he needed.
Though if he had it his way, he might not even leave...ever. But as Führer, he had things to get done. Taking his hat off, Mustang knelt, placed the wreath on the grave and snapped his fingers, setting it ablaze as a tribute to his one, his only. His Fullmetal.
Roy watched the flames flicker about, nature reclaiming the wreath bit by bit. He gazed at the display until it was nothing more than a pile of ashes, and he continued to stare long after the last traces of evanescent smoke had dissipated into nothing.
The sky waxed orange as sunset came, and he finally left.
Alphonse Elric and Winry were the most outwardly devastated by it, breaking down into sobs not even halfway through the funeral, clinging to each other like their whole world had deserted them. But Roy, oh poor Roy. He was the most broken, insides crushed, so crushed as to feel almost nothing at all.
Roy walked, hands in pockets, down the dirt path leading out of the cemetery feeling just that. Nothing, but a dull ache that lingered in the back of his mind somewhere behind emptiness. He wondered idly if this is what Alphonse had suffered through for years before he'd gotten his body back.
It was fitting that one so beautiful should be forever at rest here. The field was relaxing. Even if it was full of death.
Small flowers were scattered sporadically about the short grass swaying in the breeze. From one of them came a small flying thing which alit on Roy's shoulder.
He didn't care much what it was, only that it was something alive which mocked him with its beauty. He brushed it away and it came back, twice. Roy could feel irritation setting in. The third time he turned to see what it was which insisted on bothering him.
'Twas just a butterfly. A unusual butterfly of golden hue, clinging to Roy's shoulder. He looked at it, and it looked at him, fluttering slightly. Smiling, Roy decided maybe he did believe in little miracles.
"Look at you," he spoke, choking up, "you're even smaller now. If you get any tinier, I won't be ab-"
The butterfly floated away on wings light as air.
"Able to find you." Roy reached out vaguely in its direction, grasping at nothing in particular.
"Please... Come back." He cried softly, head in his hands.
.
Sign up to rate and review this story