Post by thia on Jan 23, 2012 13:13:13 GMT -1
Edward Elric's head. I think I enjoy it a wee bit too much.
Drip, drip, drip...
The feeling of viscous liquid, creeping down the curve of his cheek - lovingly, almost. Even before the metallic smell hit his nose, he knew that he was bleeding. The taste of pennies and salt on his lips and tongue confirmed it, and a low hiss of pain escaped him when he tried to move his arm.
Except he couldn't. Again, Ed tried to flex his right arm and felt his blood turn to ice when the automail remained immobile. Not a spark, not the familiar sound of well-oiled machinery working in unison - just a stiffness that was soon met with excruciating pain when he felt several wires bend and snap under the metal plating.
That was one thing he had a bad habit of forgetting - however difficult it was for him to feel pain in this arm, that didn't change the fact that he was connected down to his very nerves. And right now, it felt like every fucking nerve in the limb was being doused in acid and then lit on fire. Oh, it was very tempting to scream, very tempting to go with the instinct to thrash on the floor and curl in upon himself.
But just as soon as he tasted it, the elusive flavor was gone, replaced by that of sweat, tears - he heard screaming amidst the haze of agony, but he couldn't tell if it was his or just in his head. His arm felt like it was being ripped from its socket, and all he could do was grit his teeth together and try not to make it obvious that he wanted to die, he wanted to open his veins to end it as quickly as he could...
"Ed! Ed, hang in there! We're almost done connecting the nerves, alright? Just a bit longer, okay?"
It was surreal, hearing Winry's voice. Cold water thrown into a warm fog, almost like waking up from a hallucination or a dream... it took him a while to realize why his arm was immobile and why it felt like he was being tortured.
One moment he had been trying to take a swipe at Scar, and the next, his arm was little more than a storm of bolts and metal plating. His mind had gone blank, and he could almost taste the blood in his own mouth as he knew Scar's next target would be his head, his stomach...
"Y'know, you should be more careful with your Automail, Ed," she continued, blithely ignorant of the fact that it has not so much her words as it was her voice that took the edge off the pain. Agony was a blade slicing through his arm, but with her assuring tones so close to him, it was easier to bite back a scream.
It happened every time he had surgery - the taste of blood, the feeling of every nerve being burned and liquified. Screaming that resonated in his skull, a raw throat that he had a hard time believing was his own. An ocean of nothing but black, drowing, the air choked from his lungs as even drawing air felt like an act of torture. Phantoms haunted those depths, horrific visions reserved for nightmares: a seething mass of flesh and bone that could barely be called "human", the bell-like chime of his alchmy resonating in those eerie depths and taking on a sinister tone. If there was really a hell, he knew for a fact that it was not fire and brimstone but the endless depths he knew too well.
And always...
Always... it was Winry's voice that brought him back, reaching through the ocean to bring him back to the surface.
Drip, drip, drip...
The feeling of viscous liquid, creeping down the curve of his cheek - lovingly, almost. Even before the metallic smell hit his nose, he knew that he was bleeding. The taste of pennies and salt on his lips and tongue confirmed it, and a low hiss of pain escaped him when he tried to move his arm.
Except he couldn't. Again, Ed tried to flex his right arm and felt his blood turn to ice when the automail remained immobile. Not a spark, not the familiar sound of well-oiled machinery working in unison - just a stiffness that was soon met with excruciating pain when he felt several wires bend and snap under the metal plating.
That was one thing he had a bad habit of forgetting - however difficult it was for him to feel pain in this arm, that didn't change the fact that he was connected down to his very nerves. And right now, it felt like every fucking nerve in the limb was being doused in acid and then lit on fire. Oh, it was very tempting to scream, very tempting to go with the instinct to thrash on the floor and curl in upon himself.
But just as soon as he tasted it, the elusive flavor was gone, replaced by that of sweat, tears - he heard screaming amidst the haze of agony, but he couldn't tell if it was his or just in his head. His arm felt like it was being ripped from its socket, and all he could do was grit his teeth together and try not to make it obvious that he wanted to die, he wanted to open his veins to end it as quickly as he could...
"Ed! Ed, hang in there! We're almost done connecting the nerves, alright? Just a bit longer, okay?"
It was surreal, hearing Winry's voice. Cold water thrown into a warm fog, almost like waking up from a hallucination or a dream... it took him a while to realize why his arm was immobile and why it felt like he was being tortured.
One moment he had been trying to take a swipe at Scar, and the next, his arm was little more than a storm of bolts and metal plating. His mind had gone blank, and he could almost taste the blood in his own mouth as he knew Scar's next target would be his head, his stomach...
"Y'know, you should be more careful with your Automail, Ed," she continued, blithely ignorant of the fact that it has not so much her words as it was her voice that took the edge off the pain. Agony was a blade slicing through his arm, but with her assuring tones so close to him, it was easier to bite back a scream.
It happened every time he had surgery - the taste of blood, the feeling of every nerve being burned and liquified. Screaming that resonated in his skull, a raw throat that he had a hard time believing was his own. An ocean of nothing but black, drowing, the air choked from his lungs as even drawing air felt like an act of torture. Phantoms haunted those depths, horrific visions reserved for nightmares: a seething mass of flesh and bone that could barely be called "human", the bell-like chime of his alchmy resonating in those eerie depths and taking on a sinister tone. If there was really a hell, he knew for a fact that it was not fire and brimstone but the endless depths he knew too well.
And always...
Always... it was Winry's voice that brought him back, reaching through the ocean to bring him back to the surface.
