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prose_alchemistTitle: Better to Have It and Not Need It…
Author:jordannamorgan
Archive Rights: Please request the author’s consent.
Rating/Warnings: G.
Characters: Alphonse, Edward.
Setting: General.
Summary: Ed learns a lesson in preparedness.
Disclaimer: They belong to Hiromu Arakawa. I’m just playing with them.
Notes: Written for the prompt word “Drive” atfan_flashworks.
Taking down the latest ragtag militia of insurrectionists was almost stupidly easy. After tracking them to their hideout in an old warehouse, it only took a few minutes for the Elric brothers to plow through the lot of them.
The problem was, by the time the goons all lay sprawled and twitching on the floor… Edward was no longer anywhere in sight.
“Brother?” Alphonse called out warily, looking around at the stacks of crates that ringed the perimeter of the space. His optimistic first guess was that Ed had merely chased a stray bad guy behind that cover; and to his relief, this was confirmed momentarily by a faint response from the vicinity of the far wall.
“…Over here,” came Ed’s oddly subdued and reluctant mutter.
Quickly Al clattered across the room and squeezed his metal bulk through a gap in the wall of crates. The first sight to greet him was the limp figure of the insurrectionists’ ringleader, unconscious and sporting a distinct boot-print on his jaw. Evidently he tried to escape through a side door, only to be thwarted by Ed.
Six feet away from this crumpled heap of malcontent stood Edward himself. He was contorted at a slightly odd angle, his right arm twisted backward… and his automail hand was embedded in concrete up to his wrist. Just as evidently, he had driven his steel fist straight into the wall while aiming a punch at the man, and somehow it became completely stuck in the cinderblock.
Alphonse burst out laughing.
“What’s so—funny?” Ed snapped, making a vicious attempt to jerk his fist free of the wall. This only proved the futility of the effort, as it remained firmly caught. Furthermore, with only one hand free, he was unable to clap his hands together and transmute the concrete in his usual manner.
“…And this is why you should always carry some chalk, Brother,” Alphonse chortled, producing a piece of that indispensable substance from his cuisse-pouch.
As he began to draw a transmutation circle that would free Ed’s hand from the wall, he knew his sibling’s mutterings were nothing polite—but he could still barely contain his snickering.
© 2017 Jordanna Morgan
Author:
jordannamorganArchive Rights: Please request the author’s consent.
Rating/Warnings: G.
Characters: Alphonse, Edward.
Setting: General.
Summary: Ed learns a lesson in preparedness.
Disclaimer: They belong to Hiromu Arakawa. I’m just playing with them.
Notes: Written for the prompt word “Drive” at
fan_flashworks.Taking down the latest ragtag militia of insurrectionists was almost stupidly easy. After tracking them to their hideout in an old warehouse, it only took a few minutes for the Elric brothers to plow through the lot of them.
The problem was, by the time the goons all lay sprawled and twitching on the floor… Edward was no longer anywhere in sight.
“Brother?” Alphonse called out warily, looking around at the stacks of crates that ringed the perimeter of the space. His optimistic first guess was that Ed had merely chased a stray bad guy behind that cover; and to his relief, this was confirmed momentarily by a faint response from the vicinity of the far wall.
“…Over here,” came Ed’s oddly subdued and reluctant mutter.
Quickly Al clattered across the room and squeezed his metal bulk through a gap in the wall of crates. The first sight to greet him was the limp figure of the insurrectionists’ ringleader, unconscious and sporting a distinct boot-print on his jaw. Evidently he tried to escape through a side door, only to be thwarted by Ed.
Six feet away from this crumpled heap of malcontent stood Edward himself. He was contorted at a slightly odd angle, his right arm twisted backward… and his automail hand was embedded in concrete up to his wrist. Just as evidently, he had driven his steel fist straight into the wall while aiming a punch at the man, and somehow it became completely stuck in the cinderblock.
Alphonse burst out laughing.
“What’s so—funny?” Ed snapped, making a vicious attempt to jerk his fist free of the wall. This only proved the futility of the effort, as it remained firmly caught. Furthermore, with only one hand free, he was unable to clap his hands together and transmute the concrete in his usual manner.
“…And this is why you should always carry some chalk, Brother,” Alphonse chortled, producing a piece of that indispensable substance from his cuisse-pouch.
As he began to draw a transmutation circle that would free Ed’s hand from the wall, he knew his sibling’s mutterings were nothing polite—but he could still barely contain his snickering.
© 2017 Jordanna Morgan