Fic - The Moment of Truth
Nov. 9th, 2009 10:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cornerofmadnessMoment of Truth
Author –![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cornerofmadness
Rating – PG-13
Characters – Father’s pov
Series –Manga
Timeline Spoilers – This is sort of what I hope happens in chapter 101 so yeah MAJOR spoilers for chapter 100. You’ve been warned.
Summary – As far as Father is concerned, it’s all falling into place.
Word Count - 743
Author’s Note –written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fma_fic_contest's 'homunculus pov prompt' and written before ch 101 came out (which I have not seen yet) I didn’t really want to enter something with such spoilers in it for a contest. In fact between nano and rewrites for my publisher I didn’t plan on writing anything but Father just would not shut up so here it is. Thanks to evil_little_dog for the beta.
* * *
Father tried to ignore the way Hohenheim struggled inside it. It wasn’t easy seeing the infuriating human again. Even though it still wore the man’s face, the homunculus didn’t like being reminded of its humble beginnings in a flask, a twin slave to the dumb blond kid who swept the lab. At least it had understood more fully what it meant to be a slave than the human he named and trained for the homunculus’ own amusement.
Hohenheim couldn’t be trusted if he escaped and Father resented having to give so much attention to holding the man-turned-Philosopher’s Stone tight. It distracted Father from the delicious fear and anger, those petty emotions it had denuded itself of, swirling between the sacrifices. Hohenheim screaming out his sons’ names mingled in the sheer noise emanating from the other sacrifices. Hohenheim’s spawn, bearing the same bright gold coloration as his father, shook the empty armor that had been his brother, shrieking for the boy to talk to him. Father couldn’t tell if the soul-bound brother had been separated or merely shocked into immobility. For its purposes, it no longer mattered. They both would soon be dead along with their troublesome sire.
The homunculus’ senses pulled like cold honey dangling from the spoon on a winter’s morning and Father’s body convulsed around Hohenheim as the Gate opened. The first Homunculus’ many mouths grinned in anticipation. It had finally achieved a goal of centuries. It would swing open the Gate of Truth and plunder it.
In front of Father, not one figure materialized but a handful. It hadn’t expected that there would be people huddled together, taken en masse. Father saw why it had gotten more than just the sacrifice. The foolish humans employed to aid its cause had damaged the woman the Flame Alchemist obviously cared about from the way he keened over her. The alchemist’s gloved hands clasped over a gash in her neck that still sprayed blood all over him. A pale-haired Xerxes descendant – whatever did the pests call themselves now? – stood next to them, apparently caught with them when the alchemist used the array, holding his shirt to the woman’s neck. A supremely shocked look twisted the man’s scarred face. Wasn’t that the human’s name? Scar? He had proved to be an annoyance before.
Hohenheim’s runt of a son leapt up from his brother’s side, leaving him to the Curtis woman. “Hawkeye!” he shrieked, making Father snicker with all his mouths, the sound echoing.
However, Father didn’t have time to enjoy the tableau. Its prize was at hand and it couldn’t dally. It advanced toward the opening, paying no heed to the rough whisper of, “Scar, now.”
It barely flinched when the Ishbalan, yes that was their name now, slapped his hand to the homunculus’ back. His puny destructive abilities could hardly faze Father. It wasn’t even worth Father’s time sweeping the man away.
“Old man!” Hoheheim’s brat screamed but what got Father’s attention were the feelings inside of its body. Hohenheim added what little ability he could as Scar forced Father to loosen its grip just a bit.
Hohenheim slipped free, like a baby’s final descent from its mother. Snarling, Father sent out a hand but Scar’s alchemy provided just enough of a barrier that Hohenheim shot past the homunculus’ distracted attempt to recapture him. Seeing the foolish, romantic idiot go to save the woman instead of trying to stop it, Father turned back to its prize.
The first homunculus stood entranced by what it saw. Where to begin? Its whole body trembled from the possibilities. It ignored the shuffling behind it until it heard Hohenheim’s familiar, annoying tone.
“Time for you to go back into your flask.”
Father swiveled around to find itself surrounded. Hawkeye had been placed next to the unmoving armor, her chest barely moving but her neck no longer bleeding. Flame had discarded his blood soaked glove, the scar on his hand barely visible as he tugged on a stained but drier glove. Hohenheim’s golden eyes glinted dangerously but lacked the wildness Father saw in the man’s son. Curtis and Scar flanked the homunculus.
It saw the death in their eyes. They thought they could stop this. Even now, they would fight to the bitter end. It would not be defeated. It would not be reenslaved. As they advanced, Father’s last thoughts before gearing up for the battle was; had it made a fatal miscalculation in bringing the sacrifices here?
Author –
cornerofmadnessRating – PG-13
Characters – Father’s pov
Series –Manga
Timeline Spoilers – This is sort of what I hope happens in chapter 101 so yeah MAJOR spoilers for chapter 100. You’ve been warned.
Summary – As far as Father is concerned, it’s all falling into place.
Word Count - 743
Author’s Note –written for the
fma_fic_contest's 'homunculus pov prompt' and written before ch 101 came out (which I have not seen yet) I didn’t really want to enter something with such spoilers in it for a contest. In fact between nano and rewrites for my publisher I didn’t plan on writing anything but Father just would not shut up so here it is. Thanks to evil_little_dog for the beta.* * *
Father tried to ignore the way Hohenheim struggled inside it. It wasn’t easy seeing the infuriating human again. Even though it still wore the man’s face, the homunculus didn’t like being reminded of its humble beginnings in a flask, a twin slave to the dumb blond kid who swept the lab. At least it had understood more fully what it meant to be a slave than the human he named and trained for the homunculus’ own amusement.
Hohenheim couldn’t be trusted if he escaped and Father resented having to give so much attention to holding the man-turned-Philosopher’s Stone tight. It distracted Father from the delicious fear and anger, those petty emotions it had denuded itself of, swirling between the sacrifices. Hohenheim screaming out his sons’ names mingled in the sheer noise emanating from the other sacrifices. Hohenheim’s spawn, bearing the same bright gold coloration as his father, shook the empty armor that had been his brother, shrieking for the boy to talk to him. Father couldn’t tell if the soul-bound brother had been separated or merely shocked into immobility. For its purposes, it no longer mattered. They both would soon be dead along with their troublesome sire.
The homunculus’ senses pulled like cold honey dangling from the spoon on a winter’s morning and Father’s body convulsed around Hohenheim as the Gate opened. The first Homunculus’ many mouths grinned in anticipation. It had finally achieved a goal of centuries. It would swing open the Gate of Truth and plunder it.
In front of Father, not one figure materialized but a handful. It hadn’t expected that there would be people huddled together, taken en masse. Father saw why it had gotten more than just the sacrifice. The foolish humans employed to aid its cause had damaged the woman the Flame Alchemist obviously cared about from the way he keened over her. The alchemist’s gloved hands clasped over a gash in her neck that still sprayed blood all over him. A pale-haired Xerxes descendant – whatever did the pests call themselves now? – stood next to them, apparently caught with them when the alchemist used the array, holding his shirt to the woman’s neck. A supremely shocked look twisted the man’s scarred face. Wasn’t that the human’s name? Scar? He had proved to be an annoyance before.
Hohenheim’s runt of a son leapt up from his brother’s side, leaving him to the Curtis woman. “Hawkeye!” he shrieked, making Father snicker with all his mouths, the sound echoing.
However, Father didn’t have time to enjoy the tableau. Its prize was at hand and it couldn’t dally. It advanced toward the opening, paying no heed to the rough whisper of, “Scar, now.”
It barely flinched when the Ishbalan, yes that was their name now, slapped his hand to the homunculus’ back. His puny destructive abilities could hardly faze Father. It wasn’t even worth Father’s time sweeping the man away.
“Old man!” Hoheheim’s brat screamed but what got Father’s attention were the feelings inside of its body. Hohenheim added what little ability he could as Scar forced Father to loosen its grip just a bit.
Hohenheim slipped free, like a baby’s final descent from its mother. Snarling, Father sent out a hand but Scar’s alchemy provided just enough of a barrier that Hohenheim shot past the homunculus’ distracted attempt to recapture him. Seeing the foolish, romantic idiot go to save the woman instead of trying to stop it, Father turned back to its prize.
The first homunculus stood entranced by what it saw. Where to begin? Its whole body trembled from the possibilities. It ignored the shuffling behind it until it heard Hohenheim’s familiar, annoying tone.
“Time for you to go back into your flask.”
Father swiveled around to find itself surrounded. Hawkeye had been placed next to the unmoving armor, her chest barely moving but her neck no longer bleeding. Flame had discarded his blood soaked glove, the scar on his hand barely visible as he tugged on a stained but drier glove. Hohenheim’s golden eyes glinted dangerously but lacked the wildness Father saw in the man’s son. Curtis and Scar flanked the homunculus.
It saw the death in their eyes. They thought they could stop this. Even now, they would fight to the bitter end. It would not be defeated. It would not be reenslaved. As they advanced, Father’s last thoughts before gearing up for the battle was; had it made a fatal miscalculation in bringing the sacrifices here?
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Date: 2009-11-10 12:26 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2009-11-10 07:27 pm (UTC)Thanks I'm glad you liked this. Ihad fun with it. Right now I'm not getting much time to play at that comm
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