*flails*

[lykomancer]

This WIP is killing me.  I have no idea what to do with it; I have no idea where it's struggling to go.  There's not even that much of it, so I don't understand why it's being such a pain in the ass. 

Anyway...  I'm posting the pieces of what I've got.  If you feel like advising, go right ahead. 

                It was always the same, and it would never be any different, no matter how much time passed.  Water may sweep under the bridge, but the bridge itself remained standing at least the length of its architects’ lives.  In humans, the heavy stones of memory eventually crumbled into dust and succumbed to the ever-flowing stream of time as their flesh died and decomposed…but the continual beating of the years had no affect on the body and mind of a homunculus.

For Envy, there was nothing but the memories, one stacked on top of the other, spanning the swift-moving river of the ages, and as much as he despised them, he clung to them.  They gave him purpose.  Intent.  Filled him with emotions keen and brittle as pieces of shattered glass.  Took the place of the seething, sucking emptiness where his soul used to reside, and heated his undead blood with a passion that reminded him of what being alive had been like. 

On either shore of that wide, wide river: two blond alchemists, alike in coloration, in skill and determination, different in almost every other way.  One calm and detached, possessed by a true scientist’s dispassionate noninvolvement, and old, older than any other creature to walk the earth, yet fading slowly like the marmalade swirls of summer sunset melting from blazing heat into the cold of night; the other so zealous and single-minded in his ambition that it was clear he was walking the fine line between genius and insanity, young and burning so bright he lit the horizon like the fiery chariot of the dawn.  One dying, the other rising from the ashes.

And between them stretched the bridge of memories, unshakably cemented together by Envy's pure, unshakable hatred of them both and spanning the centuries from one to the other, from father to son. 

Envy leaned on the polished sandstone blocks and stared down at the silky smooth black ribbon that was the tightly channeled water of the Sequana River, waiting impatiently.  The cool, damp wind toyed with his long hair, swirling it around his thin shoulders and streaming behind him.  Flashes of iridescent lightning flickered through the belligerent bottom-heavy stormclouds, making them glow luridly from the inside and smudging the sky with lavender and pale gold like shimmering mother-of-pearl for a bare instant.  The air was thick in anticipation of the rain that had not yet begun to fall, tingling with ozone and oppressive with thunder. 

The storm had blown up quickly just after moonrise, while Envy was still wandering the lonely back alleys on his way here, his mind on his upcoming sport, wondering what would be the most fun for the least amount of work.  He wasn’t allowed to kill the worthless shrimp—at least not until his usefulness was tapped out and Dante got her hands on the damned Stone she wanted so badly—and if he couldn’t complete the act then there was no point at all in engaging in physical violence… Besides, fighting bored him, and there were sweeter things to taste than actual blood. 

Envy smiled to himself, taking a deep breath of the heady storm-rich air, and then straightened up, watching the streets that ran along the channel eagerly.  It was late, but he knew the blond bastard would show up—no doubt he had to wait until the walking tin-can he called brother was resting—and it was fine, fine and right, because Envy didn’t mind being patient, each passing second whetting his appetite. 

Comments

[gelfling8604.livejournal.com]

Yeah; Envy hates Ed because he EXISTS, and even for Envy that's not a whole lot to go on. I actually have trouble picturing Envy-Hohenheim in the same room, EXISTING. Just existing. Not even talking. My head explodes

0_o
And I think if Envy ever got to know Ed, and, yanno, not try to kill him or manipulate him or make his life hell in the process, he might actually like him. They've got stuff in common; personality wise.