“I Survived, But At What Cost? We’ll Keep Moving.”

White dust and the burning smell of iron.

That is what the monster had awaken to, though he was not suppose to awaken at all.

And yet.

Admit the broken ruins hidden beneath the shining sun of Amestris, a raw guttural scream erupt from no where yet everywhere. Iron stung his lips, coat his tongue like a ever burning fire. The source of those screams, was a lone mangled up corpse buried beneath broken down ancient stone. At least, that was what he should be. Sprawl out across what remains of the last clash of titans. What was suppose to be dead, one of the last two ingredient to unlock the gate had somehow lived.

Wrath. A homunculus, one of the final two whom outlived their master. Both beasts by birthright, but who still held his own personhood meanwhile the other could only be defined as a beast. One, two, many more guttural screams of white hot pain spill from his lips, ripping, tearing, searing apart his throat. Only drowned out from the city which was falling apart all around him.

He’s not fully aware of himself, or of the tremors that came in waves. Writhing to life, his breaths of life did not welcome him(it never did) no. They were fought for. Trembling bruised and bloody, it takes all of his strength to work his one good arm to feebly prop himself off the ground. “Mggrrrhh- gAH-“

"................................................................"

If any, single person, could embody the definition of lunacy,,

"W h at the fuck---" Congratulation Cyno, the humonculus known for his short temper, wasn't even mad. no. He's bewildered? Curious? disturbed? All three? All three.

until I can get something better together, this will do. 

Literate, multi-para preferred, highly active and heavily canon divergent, POST Conqueror of Shamballa Wrath from Fullmetal Alchemist 03, Spun by Phyre.