| Imperfect plans |
[Aug. 16th, 2010|06:33 pm] |
It was familiar ground. The long sloping driveway, the clouds in dark night sky sporting underbellies streaked with ugly reds and oranges from the growing fire ahead. Her dominant arm was useless, a gunshot through the bicep made her grip unsteady, uncertain, forcing her to rely on her less accurate left hand to fire. Her less accurate hand, when she was already shaky from a sickening feeling deep in her stomach, the shock from the loss of blood running down her arm and soaking her jacket sleeve, and she was running. It took strength she didn't know she had to keep her feet moving, one in front of the other, moving quickly. Her footsteps faltered, and she stumbled, and it was so hard to move. The driveway seemed to grow impossibly longer with every step, and her legs were heavy, like she was running through knee-deep sand.
( Read more... ) |
|
|
I wish I could fix you (locked to ![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) supermans_dead) |
[May. 7th, 2010|12:38 am] |
| [ | Did you ever hear me sing // |
| | Fix You - Offspring | ] |
For quite some time, a span of years, in fact, stretching out far beyond the point where all the important things in her life had fallen into little pieces, Riza had wondered something.
It was a question which never left, but remained in the shadows of her mind, ever-present and silent, unspoken and unasked. At first, there was no one to ask the question to, then there had been no way to put the answer into any sort of forward motion, provided the question could even begin to surface through the emotional territory riddled with mines.
Even now, with so many raw wounds cleansed and healed, no longer festering and infected, the question remained skittish, like a frightened bird, fluttering out of the reach of words that would give it shape, pull it into the light for others to see. It was such a fragile area, a question that could spiral out of control into so many potential ways of disaster that it scared her to ask. If the wrong word was used, if the wrong look was given, she feared the possibility of all the good being undone before she could even begin to stop it.
Just like before.
But the question grew little by little over time, over the months and years, until the weight pressed down too heavily on her to allow it to remain hidden for any longer. But still she waited, trying to think of the right words beforehand, trying to find the right time and place. But neither seemed to present themselves, and she knew that night she would never sleep until it was finally put forth, for better or worse.
Riza lay beside Edward in the dim bedroom, listening to the distant creaks and soft sounds of their home and the apartments beyond settling in for the night. She knew by his breathing, by the feel of his cheek muscles against her forehead as he blinked, that he was not yet asleep.
"Edward?" she asked softly. "May I ask a question? About alchemy, red stones, and injuries?" |
|
|
| Just another day...? |
[Mar. 22nd, 2010|03:04 am] |
Things were shaping up to be just an ordinary day. Edward and Al were out somewhere on the grounds with the Tringham brothers, and William was playing with the children out in the garden while Alfons and Delilah discussed meal plans for the upcoming week and prepared a shopping list.
That left Riza with nothing much to do except to relax somewhere with one of the books she'd picked up the last time she went to the store. All was well in the Elric world.
That in itself should have been a warning. |
|
|
| Locked to kryptonite_al |
[Mar. 1st, 2010|11:46 pm] |
After telling Edward about the Gate's offer, he gave her the job of letting his little brother (who put them up to it to start with) know what was going on while he handled his older brother and husband.
Al was outside, sitting in the garden with his laptop where he could see the doors to the apartment, probably in order to get a head start running in case his brother came after him.
Riza walked over, not saying a word until she was seated next to him. "So we talked to the Gate," she said, "and your brother will at least consider the offer. However, whether or not he takes it depends on you and everyone else who still needs to be told what all is involved." |
|
|
| Doorbell Post. |
[Jun. 7th, 2007|07:58 am] |
|
Comment to knock on the door or make a call to Apartment 3/4. |
|
|