[ W ]Â ithout death there is no life, and without life, death serves no purpose.
The balance of mortality was balanced so delicately, threatening to overturn at even the slightest of disruptions. Death waited, preyed, and prayed life sustained its own vitality so that an end would be met.
Yin and ying. Black and white. Night and day.
Flame that gnawed hungrily at his veins, that clambored up his throat to seize his tongue. Ice that stole away his sense, and ice that scaled his spine.Â
Roy Mustang, Colonel, Flame Alchemist, hero.
        ❝ ---- no way... ❞
The fragmented sentence clung just so the breadth of numb lips. More remained, and waited just at the gate of his breath, but -- it relented.
  ❝ All these years -- tearing me apart for gettin' knocked down, and he dies -- just -- like that... ❞
Perhaps I was never meant to have a father. Not permanently.
  ❝ That's -- no that's impossible -- Mustang's too damn stubborn to give into   death without puttin' up a fight. ❞ Swallow those tears, Elric.
           ❝ .................. soldier's duty, eh, Colonel?            Just ------ doin' your job. ❞
