Edward Elric (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rewritethis) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
concoursec2012-10-16 10:43 pm
rewritethis) wrote in concoursec2012-10-16 10:43 pm
What's gone is mute, someone changed the truth (backdated)
Characters: Edward Elric, Maria Cyphert, anyone else!
Location: Three dreams, one after another.
Rating: PG-13 for angst, grimdark, probable language, Germans and angst.
Open/Closed/Finished: Open!
Summary: Time Compression laughs at reticence.
[Night 1]
Picturesque fields stretch as far as the eye can see, dyed a soft orange by the sun as it hangs lazily over the horizon. Nearby, a tree rustles in the crisp breeze, its shadow rippling across the dirt path beside it like light on water. There's no such thing as a perfect summer's evening, but by most people's standards, this would come close.
The two blond kids currently wandering down the path seem a little too preoccupied to bask in it, though.
"Water, 40 litres... um..."
Unnoticed, a red and black blur pelts after them, still a fair distance behind but rapidly gaining ground.
"Saltpetre?" prompts the other kid, without looking round; he's sticking his arm out to run his fingers over the top of the wall bordering the path as they walk, and it seems to have captured most of his attention.
"Saltpetre..." The first boy, whose hair is slightly darker and whose expression is considerably less focused, gives up after a few protracted seconds and hangs his head. "Sorry, brother."
His brother sighs. It's drawn-out and theatrical in a way that may or may not be familiar. "Come on, Al, can't you take this seriously?"
"I am taking it seriously!" Al says, sounding mildly aggrieved. "It's just hard to remember."
They continue to walk together, completely oblivious as the blur thunders right up to them, resolves itself into an uncannily similar-looking person, lunges viciously at the nearest kid's backpack -
- and meets thin air. Without fanfare or even the faintest suggestion of movement, neither of the younger boys are in front of him any more. They're quite a ways further along the path, their voices starting to fade out of earshot, and they've always been that far ahead.
Edward Elric is not most people. He is livid - audibly growling with frustration as he drags himself to his feet, in fact - but if anyone happens to have a decent view of his expression at this moment in time, that's not the only emotion they'll be able to see in it. Messed-up dream or not, like hell he's going to sit here and watch those two get away.
[Night 2]
On its own, there's nothing particularly suspicious about this villa. Sure, the opulence of the garden alone seems out of place compared to the atmosphere of the city visible just beyond its gates, never mind the architecture, but places like that exist everywhere. And the armed guards, well, they probably come with the package.
The young man crouching in the bushes, watching those guards so intently that he probably wouldn't hear anyone else approach him, let alone see? Not quite as fitting.
[Night 3]
Whoever designed this dream must have been running a little low on ideas by this stage. It's utterly empty - a vast, featureless expanse of yellowish-white in almost all directions.
There must be some form of solid ground here, though, because somebody's standing right in the middle of it, staring fixedly at nothing immediately obvious.
He's dressed almost entirely in black, which makes it difficult to tell from a distance exactly what the stain on the front of his shirt is. Something that's less difficult to discern is the fact that he really, really doesn't want to be here. It's written all over his face.
Location: Three dreams, one after another.
Rating: PG-13 for angst, grimdark, probable language, Germans and angst.
Open/Closed/Finished: Open!
Summary: Time Compression laughs at reticence.
[Night 1]
Picturesque fields stretch as far as the eye can see, dyed a soft orange by the sun as it hangs lazily over the horizon. Nearby, a tree rustles in the crisp breeze, its shadow rippling across the dirt path beside it like light on water. There's no such thing as a perfect summer's evening, but by most people's standards, this would come close.
The two blond kids currently wandering down the path seem a little too preoccupied to bask in it, though.
"Water, 40 litres... um..."
Unnoticed, a red and black blur pelts after them, still a fair distance behind but rapidly gaining ground.
"Saltpetre?" prompts the other kid, without looking round; he's sticking his arm out to run his fingers over the top of the wall bordering the path as they walk, and it seems to have captured most of his attention.
"Saltpetre..." The first boy, whose hair is slightly darker and whose expression is considerably less focused, gives up after a few protracted seconds and hangs his head. "Sorry, brother."
His brother sighs. It's drawn-out and theatrical in a way that may or may not be familiar. "Come on, Al, can't you take this seriously?"
"I am taking it seriously!" Al says, sounding mildly aggrieved. "It's just hard to remember."
They continue to walk together, completely oblivious as the blur thunders right up to them, resolves itself into an uncannily similar-looking person, lunges viciously at the nearest kid's backpack -
- and meets thin air. Without fanfare or even the faintest suggestion of movement, neither of the younger boys are in front of him any more. They're quite a ways further along the path, their voices starting to fade out of earshot, and they've always been that far ahead.
Edward Elric is not most people. He is livid - audibly growling with frustration as he drags himself to his feet, in fact - but if anyone happens to have a decent view of his expression at this moment in time, that's not the only emotion they'll be able to see in it. Messed-up dream or not, like hell he's going to sit here and watch those two get away.
[Night 2]
On its own, there's nothing particularly suspicious about this villa. Sure, the opulence of the garden alone seems out of place compared to the atmosphere of the city visible just beyond its gates, never mind the architecture, but places like that exist everywhere. And the armed guards, well, they probably come with the package.
The young man crouching in the bushes, watching those guards so intently that he probably wouldn't hear anyone else approach him, let alone see? Not quite as fitting.
[Night 3]
Whoever designed this dream must have been running a little low on ideas by this stage. It's utterly empty - a vast, featureless expanse of yellowish-white in almost all directions.
There must be some form of solid ground here, though, because somebody's standing right in the middle of it, staring fixedly at nothing immediately obvious.
He's dressed almost entirely in black, which makes it difficult to tell from a distance exactly what the stain on the front of his shirt is. Something that's less difficult to discern is the fact that he really, really doesn't want to be here. It's written all over his face.
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Ahead of them, the retreating backs of the two boys from earlier were already little more than dots.
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Then he took off again, coattails flying, kicking up dust in his wake. Even if she hadn't quite been conscious enough to see his earlier attempt at tackling the kid, his intentions were probably crystal clear.
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He slowed his pace just enough to deliver an appropriately annoyed glare without any danger of tripping - which also meant, for the first time, he got a good look at her. Nope, definitely nobody he could put a name to, and nothing else particularly interesting... well, apart from the weapon strapped to her back. Probably worth making a note of that; he never knew when he was next going to piss someone off.
"What? What is it? Don't tell me you're really gonna help. I don't even know you."
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She set aside the whole issue of 'helping' -- it was a dream. What could be helped?
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He hesitated mid-sentence and squinted up ahead. The sun seemed to have dipped pretty sharply while he wasn't paying attention, and the silhouettes of the two kids were almost indistinguishable from the shadows across the grass surrounding them. By now they'd veered off to the side of the path and were starting to make their way uphill.
An idle thought flitted through his head... but no, he was pretty sure that gunblades weren't actually projectile weapons. It wouldn't make this any easier.
"I'll... figure something out," he said, not glancing back at her this time, not letting her see his expression. "To get you out of here, I mean. Just hold on. Just until I stop him."
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Besides, she was curious what would happen. The dream seemed to be outracing him, and she didn't believe he'd be able to act in it.
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Inwardly, Ed sighed. Under ordinary circumstances, he wouldn't even have thought about backing down this soon - not when he was right, dammit! But these circumstances weren't ordinary, and... he was on a time limit. Maybe he still wasn't sure why the messed-up dreams were happening or how they worked, but that was something he knew with preternatural certainty.
"Okay, you win. Just cover me."
An overblown choice of words for chasing after a defenseless ten-year-old? Sure, but he wasn't staying still long enough for her to point it out.
Soon - almost too soon, considering how far away they'd appeared to be from the dirt path - the voices of the boys up ahead faded back into earshot.
"...not like it's gonna be forever, Al," the blonder of the two was saying airily. "Just until we figure out how to do it for her, too. I mean, what if we let her get her hopes up first, and in the end, we couldn't do it? She'd never forget."
Al looked uncertain. "But, brother..."
And then, as seamlessly as before, reality reconfigured itself. Now a few yards away, the first kid just grinned, completely unaware of the gloved fist sailing through the empty space where his head had been moments ago. "Al, she'll come around. She always does. You'll see."
Meanwhile, again caught off balance, the present-day Ed fell to his knees.
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Otherwise, why would be be trying so hard to beat up a child? In a dream? It made no logical sense unless stopping the dream before it reached that part was terribly important.
"Will stopping it really matter?"
She meant that question. It was only a dream; it couldn't change reality. But maybe it did matter a great deal even given that fact.
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But her question touched a nerve. "Why the hell wouldn't it matter?" he snarled, whipping round - only for his eyes to widen a little on noticing her hand. He hadn't felt it.
Less explosively, he pushed himself away from her and slumped back down, so that he was sitting rather than kneeling.
"...Didn't I already tell you?" He sounded like he'd calmed down, but it was clearly an effort. "This isn't a regular dream. If it was, I'd just have to stand by and watch. It wouldn't be real. Nobody can turn back time. But with this... maybe that isn't true any more. I don't know." He looked up. "And I know you don't either, so don't start with that.
"But that - that's why I gotta try. I'll get you out of here too, I promise. You'll see." Copying that kid's intonation wasn't intentional, but by the time he realised it, it was a little late to stop. Well, whatever - not like anyone else would notice. "Just... not yet, okay? Not while there's still a chance."
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Maria had her gunblades in this dream, after all, and she was prepared to take his statements at total face value. This was his dream and he knew the significance. If he said it mattered, then she would accept that and help.
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A few thoughts he'd been burying up until now flashed by in an instant. Would it make any difference if by some miracle this was a real second chance, and he didn't stop her from going overboard? There'd be a paradox either way, he thought, his right hand semi-voluntarily curling into another fist. And - even though he felt a little sick to his stomach just contemplating it, it wasn't necessarily untrue - he couldn't be completely sure he was alive, could he? But...
But his past wasn't the only one on trial here.
He shifted, and started to pull himself to his feet.
"Don't kill him," he said, uncharacteristically quiet. "Get his attention. Make him listen. I'll take over from there. But don't kill him." A vague memory of something from Garden flitted through his head. "Al doesn't deserve that."
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As he rose, she reached out to grab his hand and pull him to his feet with casual strength. "Let's go then," she said, beckoning him to lead the way.
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- the sky flickered for an instant, its deep orange dimmed into the foreboding grey of oncoming clouds, the grass thickened under their feet and the temperature of the air around them plummeted. If either of the younger boys was perturbed by the sudden changes, it was impossible to tell; both of them had vanished without a trace.
In the low light, the silhouette of the house up at the top of the hill suddenly seemed a lot less friendly - but that was nothing compared to how it looked a few seconds later when, without warning, its previously darkened doors and windows blazed brilliantly, vibrantly gold.
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