[Life goes on. Peace treaties can bring one kind of end to a war, but they still need to be carried out. Promises can be made, but they have to be kept.

None of this explains why, on this damp late spring day, Edward is scaling the walls of Garden instead of walking inside the normal way. He's doing well, though. He had to work his way around in a shaky spiral rather than launch himself straight up - physics is annoying like that - but he's reached the upper floor of this wing of the dorms, and he's still going. One window sill at a time, but still going.

There's no force in this world that can stop him once he has his mind set on something. His metal elbow scrapes some splinters off a ledge that was only repainted recently, but that's a natural hazard when they do such a rush job. Someone sticks their head out of a window below him to glare pointedly up, and he just looks pointedly away -

- wait just a damn minute, the window above is his room, he left it locked, why is she in there, how did she already -

- which means the next thing his hand meets is empty air. Which means he drops like a stone.

Welp. Life goes on, but not forever.]

rewritethis

[For one reason or another, there was a small Ed-shaped microphone lying on the ground. It's gone now.

Which is to say, it's now in Edward's hand. He turns it over in his gloveless fingers, eyes narrowed in a slightly more suspicious version of his usual frown. It's not that he's never seen it before - things like this are useful, don't you know, they make it damn clear to people who they're dealing with and what their prospects are. No, the cartoonish design isn't what bugs him either.

Still, whoever's responsible can't be far away. Before long, with an annoyed grunt, he drops the mic on the floor and brings his left boot down, hard. The crunch isn't nearly as loud as he'd like, which only irritates him more.]

What's the point of an insult that isn't built to last? [He kicks the now detached ahoge away. It bounces.] We're done here.

nickblocked

Objection! It's an Ace Attorney meme!

There could be witty flavour text here, but tbh you know how it goes.

( PROMPTS )

rewritethis

[There's really nothing special about the date or anything else today, as far as Ed is concerned - it's just a reasonably sunny afternoon after a spate of showers, which makes it as opportune a time as any to go pick up a few supplies.

And why is he knocking on this door before he heads off to do just that (and it is knocking, not hammering)? Well, it wasn't too far out of the way.

She's probably not even in, right? Probably off with her friends, doing... well, who knows what she might be doing on a day when even a sane person would have a legitimate excuse to randomly break into song, provided they were about five years old? Heh, she's hopeless.]

sawhell

[Ed opens his eyes, and has to screw them up immediately as the sunlight does its best to stab through them.

It's not the sunlight that surprises him, though, nor the feel of damp grass brushing against the back of his neck. It's the quiet. If they were attacked, it must be long over... but then, how long was he out for? And where the hell is everyone now? He's alive, of course he's alive, but there's no way the entire rest of their group could be taken out so neatly... is there?

He shoots upright before he's given himself time to finish that train of thought.] Hey!

[...A field, huh? An empty one, it looks like. Goddamnit, he might even have welcomed the sight of that worthless old bastard at this point.

Now he thinks about it, what was he doing before he got here? It's a blur. That doesn't happen to him often.

He decides he doesn't like it. Cursing none too quietly, he scrambles to his feet.]

rewritethis

[Out here on this clear night, far from any city, the surrounding plains and the sky seem to merge into a single greenish-blue blur, whistling past and over this train in a stream faster than thought.

Ed grits his teeth as he starts on the more intricate details of the circular pattern he's chalking onto the side of the carriage, willing his eyes to stop watering. At this speed, if he loses his grip on the ladder rung he's clinging to with his other hand, he's dead. And if he drops this chalk stub like he did the other one... well, this whole stupid mission deal might still be salvageable so long as he doesn't try to catch the damn thing and indirectly lead himself back to the first case, but probably not in a way that's going to get him paid. He's as certain of both of these facts as he is about anything these days.

What, then, could have provoked him into suddenly stopping and angrily jerking his head over his shoulder?]

Is this really the best time for a lesson?

[Raising his voice loud enough for him to hear it over the noise of the train and wind is going to hurt his throat before too long. For someone with Ed's default volume level, that's pretty impressive.]

rewritethis

[BANG. BANG.]

Dash! Dash!! Open up!

[Doorknocking this violent isn't an uncommon occurrence around this particular dorm, especially accompanied by that voice. What might be a bit more notable is that the sound actually seems to be coming from somewhere close to the floor. Yes, closer than usual. In fact, knocking probably isn't the right word...]

in a crowded theatre

Entries tagged with fma

whoosh.

a tale of two twits

ACE ATTORNEY MEME

Objection! It's an Ace Attorney meme!

don't put my hand next to you

did you forget in the middle of the night

you're waiting for a train

someone left a cake in the rain

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