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Slowly and surely, I am working through these! Two more go to, unless other people are interested. ♥♥
A Different World
Fullmetal Alchemist [AU anime continuity]
Scar and Al; for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
vinnydapoo
Prompt: "A different world"
In the morning, the Ishbarite women go down to the well and gather water for the day in giant clay jars. They sing as they walk, their voices low and mournful and sweet. Al sits with his chin on his hands and watches them until his eyes glaze over, and they are nothing more than hazy dark figures and the cadences of song.
Ed pays them no heed; he's too engrossed in his studies, in the old texts and the details of this society, this religion. Schools in Amestris' Central City have already expressed interest in accepting him as a student. Their father is indulgent of him, and ruffles Al's hair whenever he passes by, the few times he returns to their borrowed apartment.
There's a strange pleasure in watching them that Al can't quite explain. His mother is the closest to understanding, and even then, in the end, she attributes it to his age and doesn't question.
"They're beautiful," he tells his brother, as Ed drops into the chair beside him and leans back, so that his shoulders are braced against the windowsill that Al leans against. "I wish they trusted us more."
Ed shrugs. "We're outsiders," he says, unphased. "And Dad's an alchemist, to boot. They remember the war, even if they weren't in it."
Al folds his arms on the window and sighs. "I still wish they'd talk to us," he murmurs. "They could tell us a lot more than we'd learn from just books."
"Give it time, Al," Ed says, and reaches over to ruffle his hair, like their father often does. "If they warm up to anyone first, it'll be you. You're the one everyone likes."
Al bats his hands away, grinning, and looks outside again. His grin fades.
There is a man standing beside the well, wrapped in a long, dusty green cloth. From what Al can see of his hair, it's pure white. A strip of tan skin is visible through his clothing, and Al sees things tattooed there, marks like something out of one of his father's textbooks. Al has never seen him before, but he knows who he is.
He glances to the side. "Brother," he says, "I'm going to go out for a bit."
"Huh?" Ed blinks. "In this heat? Al --"
"I'll be right back," he blurts, and scrambles off his chair, across the house to the front door. He bursts outside, and falters for a moment at the brightness of the midday sun, and the heat of it. For a moment, he sways, then shakes his head and keeps running.
The man is still standing by the well, unmoving as a statue. He doesn't turn as Al comes to a stop a short distance away and doubles over, panting.
"You," Al gasps. "You're -- you're the priest who went to Central, to murder alchemists, aren't you?"
And finally the man turns, looking at him. Al doesn't flinch, even at the cold look in his eyes, or the dangerous slant to his mouth. There is a giant scar cut into his forehead, across his eyes, and Al is surprised the man hasn't been blinded by that injury. "You are ..."
"Your name was struck from the record," Al blurts. "They know who you are. Why did you come back?"
The man turns and begins to walk towards him. Al braces himself, but the man does not try to touch him, makes no more towards him -- just stares, like is something strange and a little disgusting.
"You are of them," the man says at last. "What do you want?"
"Why did you come back?" Al insists, and what he means to say is Why did you leave? Because he can't imagine leaving this place, doesn't want to think about leaving this beautiful serene desert country, though he knows they will soon enough, when his father's job sends them off again.
The scarred man stares at him. And then, shortly, he says, "I came to see if there was a memory here."
"Was it?" He's oddly breathless, staring.
"No." The man continues to stare, as though weighing him, looking through all the petty trappings of his soul, and finding him wanting.
And then, unexpectedly, he says, "Even for a stranger, you have not strayed far from Ishbara's path. If you do not let your father and brother influence you, you will go far."
His hand flashes, and Al flails, catches the sparking silver thing tossed at him. It's a woman's locket, patterned with designs that resemble the holy writings of Ishbar. "This --"
"When your brother leaves," the scarred man says, "come find me."
And then he turns and walks away, not looking back. Al watches him go, and closes his fist over the locket, stuffing it into his pocket.
Later that night, as they're getting ready for bed, Ed asks, "So, what was that all about, today?"
Al stares at his reflection in the water basin. When your brother leaves, come find me.
He shrugs. "Nothing."
--end--
++++++++++++++++++++++
In Summertime
Digimon 02
Ken and Daisuke; forkaitoucheckers
Prompt: "flutter, hello, nail."
"Hello?"
"You're studying again, aren't you?"
Ken resisted the urge to sigh, and pushed the bangs away from his face by hand. "You know, Daisuke, even I need to study. And you should, too -- don't you have exams coming up? You --"
"Yeah, yeah, that too," Daisuke cut him off flippantly. "But have you looked out your window at all? Jeeze, Ken, if you're that smart, shouldn't you know this already?"
"I've got my windows open," Ken said, and tried not to sound too lofty. "It's a nice day, so I'm airing my room out. We --"
"Airing your room out." Daisuke's voice was flat and disbelieving. "You're airing your room out."
One of Ken's eyebrows twitched. "Yes, that's what I said."
"You're hopeless, did you know that? I'm coming over, and we're playing soccer."
Ken scowled at the phone. "Daisuke, I've got a lot of homework this weekend, I can't --"
"I'm coming over and we are playing soccer. It's not healthy for you to be inside all day! I've been practicing, so you'd better be ready!" There was a decisive click, and Ken was left gaping at dial tone. After a moment, he sighed and hung up the phone himself.
"Ken-chan?" Minomon lifted his head up from over Ken's pillows, blinking. "Is something wrong?"
Ken stared down at the open texts and notebooks, then tossed his pencil down and leaned back, rubbing hard at his eyes. "Not much," he sighed. "But you know, once in a while, Daisuke can be right."
***
They met down at the train station (because Ken's mother, as much as she tried to fuss and worry about his schooling, was always glad to let him go when Daisuke-kun called), and Ken found out where Daisuke was when a soccer ball came hurtling towards him. He caught it with a bit of a fumble.
"Damn." Daisuke just grinned at him, and folded his arms behind his head. "One of these days, I promise I'll nail you."
Ken just looked at him. "You could've hit someone like this," he said. "You're so irresponsible."
"Am not! I got my homework done before I came!"
"Really?" Ken looked doubtful. "All of it?"
"Most of it." Daisuke shrugged. "Come on, let's go play soccer." He strode forward and grabbed Ken's arm, tugging. His fingers were warm and dry. "Betcha I can beat you in a one-on-one game."
"You wish," Ken told him, and tucked the ball under one arm. He knew he was grinning stupidly, and couldn't make himself care. "It'll be a cold day in Hell before you ever beat me at anything."
"Whaaaaaat?" Daisuke bristled. "You bastard --"
"I'll race you to the field," Ken announced and took off. Daisuke yelped and plunged after him. And somehow, in spite of the nervous flutter in his chest (one day he'll catch up, and then what?), Ken found himself laughing the whole way there.
Daisuke did have the right idea about things, he thought. Once in a while.
--end--
A Different World
Fullmetal Alchemist [AU anime continuity]
Scar and Al; for
vinnydapooPrompt: "A different world"
In the morning, the Ishbarite women go down to the well and gather water for the day in giant clay jars. They sing as they walk, their voices low and mournful and sweet. Al sits with his chin on his hands and watches them until his eyes glaze over, and they are nothing more than hazy dark figures and the cadences of song.
Ed pays them no heed; he's too engrossed in his studies, in the old texts and the details of this society, this religion. Schools in Amestris' Central City have already expressed interest in accepting him as a student. Their father is indulgent of him, and ruffles Al's hair whenever he passes by, the few times he returns to their borrowed apartment.
There's a strange pleasure in watching them that Al can't quite explain. His mother is the closest to understanding, and even then, in the end, she attributes it to his age and doesn't question.
"They're beautiful," he tells his brother, as Ed drops into the chair beside him and leans back, so that his shoulders are braced against the windowsill that Al leans against. "I wish they trusted us more."
Ed shrugs. "We're outsiders," he says, unphased. "And Dad's an alchemist, to boot. They remember the war, even if they weren't in it."
Al folds his arms on the window and sighs. "I still wish they'd talk to us," he murmurs. "They could tell us a lot more than we'd learn from just books."
"Give it time, Al," Ed says, and reaches over to ruffle his hair, like their father often does. "If they warm up to anyone first, it'll be you. You're the one everyone likes."
Al bats his hands away, grinning, and looks outside again. His grin fades.
There is a man standing beside the well, wrapped in a long, dusty green cloth. From what Al can see of his hair, it's pure white. A strip of tan skin is visible through his clothing, and Al sees things tattooed there, marks like something out of one of his father's textbooks. Al has never seen him before, but he knows who he is.
He glances to the side. "Brother," he says, "I'm going to go out for a bit."
"Huh?" Ed blinks. "In this heat? Al --"
"I'll be right back," he blurts, and scrambles off his chair, across the house to the front door. He bursts outside, and falters for a moment at the brightness of the midday sun, and the heat of it. For a moment, he sways, then shakes his head and keeps running.
The man is still standing by the well, unmoving as a statue. He doesn't turn as Al comes to a stop a short distance away and doubles over, panting.
"You," Al gasps. "You're -- you're the priest who went to Central, to murder alchemists, aren't you?"
And finally the man turns, looking at him. Al doesn't flinch, even at the cold look in his eyes, or the dangerous slant to his mouth. There is a giant scar cut into his forehead, across his eyes, and Al is surprised the man hasn't been blinded by that injury. "You are ..."
"Your name was struck from the record," Al blurts. "They know who you are. Why did you come back?"
The man turns and begins to walk towards him. Al braces himself, but the man does not try to touch him, makes no more towards him -- just stares, like is something strange and a little disgusting.
"You are of them," the man says at last. "What do you want?"
"Why did you come back?" Al insists, and what he means to say is Why did you leave? Because he can't imagine leaving this place, doesn't want to think about leaving this beautiful serene desert country, though he knows they will soon enough, when his father's job sends them off again.
The scarred man stares at him. And then, shortly, he says, "I came to see if there was a memory here."
"Was it?" He's oddly breathless, staring.
"No." The man continues to stare, as though weighing him, looking through all the petty trappings of his soul, and finding him wanting.
And then, unexpectedly, he says, "Even for a stranger, you have not strayed far from Ishbara's path. If you do not let your father and brother influence you, you will go far."
His hand flashes, and Al flails, catches the sparking silver thing tossed at him. It's a woman's locket, patterned with designs that resemble the holy writings of Ishbar. "This --"
"When your brother leaves," the scarred man says, "come find me."
And then he turns and walks away, not looking back. Al watches him go, and closes his fist over the locket, stuffing it into his pocket.
Later that night, as they're getting ready for bed, Ed asks, "So, what was that all about, today?"
Al stares at his reflection in the water basin. When your brother leaves, come find me.
He shrugs. "Nothing."
--end--
++++++++++++++++++++++
In Summertime
Digimon 02
Ken and Daisuke; for
kaitoucheckersPrompt: "flutter, hello, nail."
"Hello?"
"You're studying again, aren't you?"
Ken resisted the urge to sigh, and pushed the bangs away from his face by hand. "You know, Daisuke, even I need to study. And you should, too -- don't you have exams coming up? You --"
"Yeah, yeah, that too," Daisuke cut him off flippantly. "But have you looked out your window at all? Jeeze, Ken, if you're that smart, shouldn't you know this already?"
"I've got my windows open," Ken said, and tried not to sound too lofty. "It's a nice day, so I'm airing my room out. We --"
"Airing your room out." Daisuke's voice was flat and disbelieving. "You're airing your room out."
One of Ken's eyebrows twitched. "Yes, that's what I said."
"You're hopeless, did you know that? I'm coming over, and we're playing soccer."
Ken scowled at the phone. "Daisuke, I've got a lot of homework this weekend, I can't --"
"I'm coming over and we are playing soccer. It's not healthy for you to be inside all day! I've been practicing, so you'd better be ready!" There was a decisive click, and Ken was left gaping at dial tone. After a moment, he sighed and hung up the phone himself.
"Ken-chan?" Minomon lifted his head up from over Ken's pillows, blinking. "Is something wrong?"
Ken stared down at the open texts and notebooks, then tossed his pencil down and leaned back, rubbing hard at his eyes. "Not much," he sighed. "But you know, once in a while, Daisuke can be right."
***
They met down at the train station (because Ken's mother, as much as she tried to fuss and worry about his schooling, was always glad to let him go when Daisuke-kun called), and Ken found out where Daisuke was when a soccer ball came hurtling towards him. He caught it with a bit of a fumble.
"Damn." Daisuke just grinned at him, and folded his arms behind his head. "One of these days, I promise I'll nail you."
Ken just looked at him. "You could've hit someone like this," he said. "You're so irresponsible."
"Am not! I got my homework done before I came!"
"Really?" Ken looked doubtful. "All of it?"
"Most of it." Daisuke shrugged. "Come on, let's go play soccer." He strode forward and grabbed Ken's arm, tugging. His fingers were warm and dry. "Betcha I can beat you in a one-on-one game."
"You wish," Ken told him, and tucked the ball under one arm. He knew he was grinning stupidly, and couldn't make himself care. "It'll be a cold day in Hell before you ever beat me at anything."
"Whaaaaaat?" Daisuke bristled. "You bastard --"
"I'll race you to the field," Ken announced and took off. Daisuke yelped and plunged after him. And somehow, in spite of the nervous flutter in his chest (one day he'll catch up, and then what?), Ken found himself laughing the whole way there.
Daisuke did have the right idea about things, he thought. Once in a while.
--end--
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*dies*
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He strode forward and grabbed Ken's arm, tugging. His fingers were warm and dry.
^ for some reason, i really like that bit. ^
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You're evil as always (omg oooooold faaaaandom), but I'm glad you liked it♥♥♥