Categories > Anime/Manga > Full Metal Alchemist
When Greed chooses to sleep, he always dreams the same.
In the dream, all seven of them are together-- strong and shining, the chosen of the old gods-- all but gods themselves in a world of human weakness. Seven parts of the same whole. Seven facets of the same bloody Stone.
The way it should have been.
Most of them are hazy, indistinct-- the idea of a being rather than the weak reality he's met. A distillation of sin made tangible in flesh and bone. There stands Pride, tall and powerful, so assured of his own superiority that there is no room for doubt. And there Wrath, with sharp, mad eyes that hate with a purity that is frightening in its lack of focus. There Lust, sprawling and lush, setting blood afire with a look; there Gluttony, lean and hungry, capable of swallowing the world; there Sloth, blinking lazily at the rest, stealing warmth and life from the very air.
And /there/, finally, Envy-- the only one of them that he can see clearly, because he can imagine no purer form of the sin than what already exists. Cruel, sharp-eyed Envy, wanting only what would hurt the most to take away.
They are together, each in their own way ruled by want, each with a hunger that can never quite be satisfied. And there is an odd peace in that collective need, a sense of rightness, a tie that holds them together. Seven against the world-- above it, beyond it-- ruled by no one but themselves because who could possibly hold power over them?
The way it could have been, perhaps, without Dante and her schemes.
And Greed always wakes with the familiar, hard ache twisting his stomach-- he wants it, wants enough that he could scream, wants more than he ever has before. The way things should have been, could have been, were meant to be--
But he knows, with a final and horrifying certaintly, that this may be the one thing he will never have.
In the dream, all seven of them are together-- strong and shining, the chosen of the old gods-- all but gods themselves in a world of human weakness. Seven parts of the same whole. Seven facets of the same bloody Stone.
The way it should have been.
Most of them are hazy, indistinct-- the idea of a being rather than the weak reality he's met. A distillation of sin made tangible in flesh and bone. There stands Pride, tall and powerful, so assured of his own superiority that there is no room for doubt. And there Wrath, with sharp, mad eyes that hate with a purity that is frightening in its lack of focus. There Lust, sprawling and lush, setting blood afire with a look; there Gluttony, lean and hungry, capable of swallowing the world; there Sloth, blinking lazily at the rest, stealing warmth and life from the very air.
And /there/, finally, Envy-- the only one of them that he can see clearly, because he can imagine no purer form of the sin than what already exists. Cruel, sharp-eyed Envy, wanting only what would hurt the most to take away.
They are together, each in their own way ruled by want, each with a hunger that can never quite be satisfied. And there is an odd peace in that collective need, a sense of rightness, a tie that holds them together. Seven against the world-- above it, beyond it-- ruled by no one but themselves because who could possibly hold power over them?
The way it could have been, perhaps, without Dante and her schemes.
And Greed always wakes with the familiar, hard ache twisting his stomach-- he wants it, wants enough that he could scream, wants more than he ever has before. The way things should have been, could have been, were meant to be--
But he knows, with a final and horrifying certaintly, that this may be the one thing he will never have.
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