IT'S DO OR DIE FOR YOU AND I.

      the 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘧𝘶𝘭 sobs of his daughter haunt.     even now.       hours later.       in near 𝘀𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲.                                the pleas of a mere 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥.      wistful in their wailings.      palms grabbing,       outstretched to a father that will 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 come home.      eyes wide,      awash with mourning she can hardly understand.    how,     how he could glance upon those eyes again ?    knowing he etched their glassiness.      𝗶𝘁’𝘀 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝘂𝗹𝘁.       a vow of 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 of those he loves,      and them those they do in return.       those tears fall because 𝗵𝗲 couldn’t do as he 𝘴𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘯.   

      𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯 hands bare only 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 bloodshed,    he wonders how much 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 one man only can carry ?                               how much a 𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒆 mere flesh can be ?      how much 𝘀𝗶𝗻 ,    one human can shoulder ?

      fingers curl to forge fists.     caged nails screw tight enough to naw against dress gloves. 

       the twin groundings of regret and guilt plummet him form little beyond their tethering.       a swelling bile 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 at a throat.      flavoured to 𝗮𝘀𝗵,      chalky upon a pallet ;  even to swallow becomes difficult.

       absently he wonders if in death hughe’s may be absolved a sin.       a man driven by mortal 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳,                               and the mere hope of a 𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒆.       if any of them can,      it might be him.

      a saline pool sits behind eyes.        𝗯𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴,    𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗼𝘀𝗶𝘃𝗲. 

            it brings little comfort.      for once not to be regarded 𝗺𝗼𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗼𝘂𝘀.     but,     perhaps 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗.

          ❝    us alchemist’s have always been 𝗳𝗼𝗼𝗹’𝘀.    𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯𝘦𝘥,     𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗼𝗴𝗮𝗻𝘁,    𝒇𝒐𝒐𝒍𝒔.    ❞ 

   her hands ache to reach out and offer meager comfort, that of a friend, rather than the subordinate she stands as now.   all she can do, though, is resist, providing her presence as he grieves.  a pit forms in her stomach as she watches the colonel flounder beneath the weight of sorrow and remorse.  (  has he chosen to shoulder the burden of blame?  )   

     “foolish  ---  maybe,”  she replies.  “trying to fix all the world’s problems with a snap of your fingers.”   she crosses her arms, thinks of the tattoo on her back.  (  what remains of it, that is.  )  her relationship with alchemy always feels like a tangled web of despair and hope;  she carries its mark with her forever, has seen firsthand the destruction it causes.  “but it’s hard to begrudge someone of their desire to do so with the skills they have.”    

@followedhell​ requested your presence.

“actually ma’am. I find your line of work particularly important.” this was certainly deja vu for the young lady. she could hear those words spoken before from one closer to her hear than this kind woman coming through to get something to eat after her shift. were the woman’s words just an act of humility, or did she truly believe her job to not be that of great importance? nevertheless, the girl smiled and continued. 

“my uncle is a soldier stationed in South City. it’s not an appreciated job, i’m sure of that, but it’s gotta be done.”

she’s  solid,  this riza       the perfect soldier  /  the consummate professional.  it’s a curious contrast,  and not entirely to sakura’s own admiration;  a woman who obeys orders without question,  presents arms as  INSTRUCTED.  in a place of command,  she would be of powerful persuasion  (  but then,  so too was the esteemed  führer.  the comparison is not favourable.  )  her hand tightens along the strap holding her medical bag,  gaze sliding sideways as she bites down on her lip to prevent the  FRUSTRATED  refusals.  this wasn’t the first time she would be asked to work alongside the  devil  military;  it would certainly not be the last.

      ❝  doctors have died in ishval,  lieutenant. ❞  it’s a  PETTY  remark,  not befitting the  seriousness  of the moment,  but it cannot be denied:  who could forget the famous murder of the  rockbell doctors?  charity and emergency relief workers fled the land in  DROVES  when that blood was spilled.  there’s more to say  (  more she  wants  to say,  at least  )  but time is ticking       the ishvalan people were low on medical relief as it was,  and positively  ADAMANT  against any kind of alchemy;  her work would be solely by hand.  ❝  but we’re wasting time.  we can start in the quarter closest,  and work outwards. ❞  decided,  she settles with her bag at last;  crosses the room in a quick stride,  and pulls the door open,  pausing to politely  (  if stiffly  )  hold it open for riza to follow.  irritated  as she was,  she couldn’t quite bring herself to be  completely  rude.  

     she resists flinching, surprised at the strength of sakura’s spite.  perhaps taking the doctor on as her charge won’t be as simple as riza hoped.  then again, when have her orders ever proved easy to carry out?   “you’re right,”  she replies, her tone a bit more clipped than before.  “i did not mean to make light of their sacrifice.  call it optimism, if you must.  i’d like to think we can help the ishvalan people without further bloodshed.”  

     it’s eye-opening to witness the lasting damage the military did to ishval and its people.  the way they stare at her with wide, frightened eyes chills riza to her core.  she much prefers those who glare at her, their disdain and loathing clear as day.  

    “ ---- please, don’t worry about me,”  she replies.  homesickness drags at her.  she longs to curl up in her bed, hide beneath the covers with her misery and remorse.  she misses the colonel and the rest of their team.  fleeting glances are all she’s seen of them since she came to ishval.  as always, her duties come first.   “i have no right to pretend that i can even begin to shoulder the burden of their pain, or that i don’t deserve their cruel words.”   she reaches up and undoes the barrette in her hair.  blonde locks glide down to her shoulders, and she shakes her head to loosen them further.

   riza wakes with a start when she hears footsteps.  her eyes snap open, revealing pure white walls, brightened by midday sunlight.  she struggles to gather her bearings, but then her gaze lands on edward.

                                                “you’re in the hospital.”

   growing panic melts away.  she allows the tension to ease from her muscles.  of course.  her wounds needed tending to after the battle.  riza’s hand rises to her neck and meets the soft cotton of a bandage.  all that adrenaline must have kept me conscious, she thinks.  she remembers al getting his body back, and the rest is but a blur. 

it’s easy enough to  bristle  at the intrusion of the amestrian  BLUE  amongst the wreckage of their own eager slaughter       years after the fact,  and the ruins of ishval still hold battlescars.  she’d only been a little girl when war was declared;  its  DESTRUCTION  was kept in whispered details  /  sordid stories.  even now,  it sets her teeth on edge:  the architects and constructs of ishval’s bloody  purge  seeking to rebuild it.  rumour had it that even the  flame alchemist,  roy mustang,  was poking his head in  (  god knows,  she hadn’t the patience or the  TACT  to deal with  him.  )

      ❝  i’ve worked with military before. ❞  if  honesty  is the game,  she’s certainly not holding back.  ❝  they’re not very fond of people telling them what to do       especially civilians. ❞  doctor marcoh had been the rare exception  (  but then,  her old teacher had always been more  doctor  than soldier.  )   ❝  but if your task is to protect me,  i want to tell you now:  my patients come first.  short of bringing injury to others,  there’s no reason for me to leave the field until my work is done.  i’m asking you not to shoot anyone       even if they threaten to shoot us first. ❞  she meets this woman  (  riza’s  )  gaze with frank direction:  finds that,  for all that they don’t known of each other,  there is   HONESTY  in her gaze.  save for her masters,  she might have been a woman to be trusted.  ❝  i’d prefer to diffuse any possible situation with words before violence.  if that’s too much of a risk,  i’m happy to continue unescorted. ❞

   it’s difficult not to admire sakura’s conviction.  fortunately, riza finds herself sharing it  ;  she does not want more ishvalan blood upon her hands, nor does she want to make this situation anymore difficult than it needs to be.  “i share your sentiments  ;  it’s always preferable to avoid violence where it isn’t needed,”  she replies evenly.  “as i said, i will defer to your judgement.  after all, my expertise with healing is limited.”  doctors soothe unseen aches and fears   ---  such compassion has never been part of riza’s duties.

  @followedhell said: ‘ 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕’𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒂𝒚. ’

                     it’s a terrible day for 𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑛. 

                                it’s heavy saturation threatens to 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒍,     he 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑠 it. 

         the air’s perfumed with the earthy 𝐰𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐜𝐡 of 𝑑𝑖𝑟𝑡,     freshly turned over.   and,    the saccharine sweetness of lilies.     𝒔𝒚𝒎𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒚.     they mean sympathy.      as if that makes a 𝑑𝑎𝑚𝑛𝑒𝑑 lick of difference.  

         his 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚎,     his best 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑,     his 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓.    this is what’s left.     some 𝑝𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑓𝑢𝑙 slab of rock.                                                                       what sort of equivalent exchange it this ?

     𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬.         𝘩𝑢𝑔𝘩𝑒𝑠 ,      etched in stone as if it were even plausible to 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓉.      major,       𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍,      hughes.      promoted in death.     two whole ranks.     it’s almost 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒔,     in a shallow,      gallow-ed form.           he was supposed to be supporting him.      he can’t do that now he’s higher than him now.     𝓯𝓸𝓸𝓵.                        this wasn’t part of their 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑛.       damn him.                         that damned 𝒻𝑜𝑜𝓁.

        weary are the eyes that greet the lieutenant.      coming to a side,      as 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔.        a presence even now he appreciates beyond words.

       (         water,   carbon,   ammonia,   lime,   phosphorus,   salt,   saltpeter,   sulfur,  fluorine,   iron,   silicon.        )          in theory,    that’s all he need’s. 

       what more would it take.        he’s seen the 𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒍,       he wonders what of 𝘩𝑖𝑚 would it take in penance ?

     ❝     alchemists as a whole.    we really are 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 creatures,   𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑛'𝑡 𝑤𝑒 ?     there’s a side of me desperately trying to crack the theories of human transmutation,   right now.    i think i 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑 those two boys.   when they tried to — bring 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 their mother.    ❞

     he thinks of the fragile, broken forms left in the place of two ordinary boy’s.     still he considers it.

 ❝    thinking like that.    knowing the 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠.     does that make me a 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 ?   ❞

       𝒆𝒎𝒐 𝒂𝒇  𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕’𝒔 .

    to see him alone drives a knife in her heart.   his best friend, lost to an unknown enemy  ;  so, he stands at his grave, the sole remainder of the funeral procession.  riza steps across the grass to meet roy.  he speaks, and her maroon gaze fixes upon him.  a monster?   she glances down at hughes’s grave, feels a twist in her gut at the loss.  (  a brave man, a good man killed  --- for what end?  )   “i think we’ve all been monsters,”  she says softly, speaking of ishval.  all three of them have bloodstained hands.  not even death can wash away that sin.

    even so, there’s hope for repentance, riza likes to think.  perhaps, one day, the good they do can amount to something.    “but no, colonel, i don’t believe you’re a monster for wanting to bring him back.”  she shakes her head.

military personnel never  have  been her particular favourites  (  and most especially in a place where there is  BLOOD  to shed.  )  and for a moment,  she falters;  her gaze stutters against such a seemingly nondescript expression.    ❝  ah   …   i was hoping the military forgot about that.  ❞   it’s as polite as she can make it;  having a  SOLDIER  at her side,  when she was meant to inspire  peace,  did not seem particularly efficient.   ❝  it’s kind of you to escort me,  but i should warn you,  if you don’t know already       the ishvalans don’t trust amestrian military.  ❞  and for good reason,  follows the silent reproof  (  though she has the  TACT,  at least,  to keep that part to herself.  )  surgery tools and quick relief is sorted neatly within her bag;  she takes a moment longer to arrange it,  unease and  distaste  laying thick into the silence.   ❝  i guess it can’t be helped.  what should i call you?  you’re a lieutenant,  aren’t you?  that’s what your badge means,  right?  ❞

     “i am aware that they may not be fond of my presence,”  she replies.  she takes sakura’s reluctance on the chin.  truth be told, riza has her own reservations about toting soldiers around the ishvalan refugees, even if their intent is peaceful now.  (  but how long can peace last, when it hangs on such a delicate thread? )   “  ---  yes.  i am, but you can just call me riza.”  no sense in formalities if only one of them claims the military as their employer.