Fic - Subversive Knowledge
Dec. 7th, 2009 10:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cornerofmadnessSubversive Knowledge
Author –![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cornerofmadness
Disclaimer – so not mine
Rating – PG-13
Characters- Hohenheim, Homunculus
Series – Manga
Timeline- set far in the past, spoilers from chapters beyond #73
Summary – The homunculus knows teaching this slave is a path to freedom.
Word Count – 996
Author’s Note – written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fma_fic_contest for the prompt “pompousity & pretentious”. It tied for 3rd and the really cool banner was made b y sky_dark. Thanks to evil_little_dog for the quickie beta. Hohenheim was chattering about this during the home stretch of nanowrimo. Luckily I had time to finish both. And this one did not want to be 1000 words or less.
* * *
“Pompous ass,” the homunculus hissed as the alchemist hustled a young slave girl out of the lab.
Hohenheim didn't look up at the table where the flask sat. He didn't like the idea that the thing was watching him all the time, especially when Hohenheim was performing the task his master had set him to these past two weeks. He picked himself off the pallet that served as his bed, tying up his trousers. Even though he was very tired right now, there was more work to do and a beating waiting him if he didn't get it done. He set to putting away the various chemicals his master had left out.
“Don’t you agree?”
“Hmm?” Hohenheim wasn’t really listening. The creature in the flask was good at distracting him for hours, earning him extra beatings and losing him meals.
“That alchemist is a pompous ass,” Homunculus said in slow deliberate measures as if talking to a child.
Hohenheim shrugged, intent on his task.
“Do you even know what pompous means?”
Pausing, he glared at the homunculus. Hohenheim hated when it took that tone with him, like he was an idiot. He actually didn’t know what pompous meant and wasn’t sure he cared. “Yeah.”
“Liar.” The thing swirled in the glass, its spooky eye fixing on Hohenheim. “He thinks he can play with you. You do realize why he brings those girls to you, don’t you?”
Hohenheim felt the heat rising in his cheeks and turned back to putting away the chemicals. “Happy slaves work harder, that’s what Ihab always says.”
“Ihab?”
“The head slave. He never comes in here so you haven’t seen him.” Hohenheim frowned. “He likes to hit.”
“Do the girls make you happy?”
That sounded honestly curious instead of critical. Hohenheim couldn’t look at his friend in the flask, however. What the girls did more than anything was make him uncomfortably curious. Ihab was so often wrong that Hohenheim didn’t believe he was given those girls to make him happy. They made his body feel good but the Master came and took them away almost immediately, leaving nothing to prolong the blissful feeling afterward.
“I thought not,” Homunculus said, “that alchemist is only interested in you making babies with them.”
The flask in Hohenheim’s hand bobbled, spilling the liquid all over his hand. Yelping, he held his burning appendage close. “How can liquid burn?”
“Hohenheim, put the soap powder on it right now then get it under water,” Homunculus demanded.
The young slave obeyed. The burning slowed then stopped. Little blisters popped out over his flesh. “It hurts.”
“You spilled acid on yourself. Soap is a base. You’ll be fine but you should be more careful.”
Hohenheim patted his hand dry before returning to his task. “You shouldn’t talk about babies. I’m too young for that.”
“Do you think he cares? Do you think you would ever get to see the child?” Homunculus’ voice softened, making Hohenheim pay close attention to him.
“Why would he do that?”
“He tried many times to create me. I heard him say so. He was furious his own blood wasn’t enough.” Homunculus chuckled. “That’s when he realized he needed more than he was willing to drain from his own body. You were the first slave that allowed him this level of creation and the alchemist believes you to be special. He wants to create more special slaves and if it fails, well, breeding your own slaves is cheaper than buying them.”
Hohenheim scowled, a shudder running through him. He didn’t want to think about this. Not that he could do anything about it. His master would do terrible things to him if he didn’t obey. Hohenheim’s wishes weren’t worth noticing. “There, done. Do you think he’ll notice I spilled some of the acid?”
Homunculus swirled again, pressing the eye against the glass. “He never pays attention to how much he has, anyhow. Take me over to the hearth. If you’re not going to talk to me, maybe I should give you a lesson.”
Hohenheim picked up the flask. “I was talking to you, Homunculus, but I don’t want to talk about what the Master wants me to do with those girls. It’s sad.”
The homunculus’ ‘mouth’ pulled down as Hohenheim put his flask on the hearth. “I suppose it is. Get your stick and let’s draw your letters.”
Hohenheim listened to the homunculus recite what order he was supposed to put the letters in. He had mastered the alphabet weeks ago and now they were onto making real words. This one was a really long one and Hohenheim had no idea what it was. It was going to break his jaw if he tried to get his tongue around it.
The homunculus made a critical sound. “You have two letters exactly backwards, Hohenheim. I swear you can’t see your letters correctly.”
Hohenheim looked at what he had written then spotted the mistakes. Correcting them, he glanced at the flask. “What is ‘prentice’?”
“Pretentious,” the creature corrected him. “It means to exaggerate your importance or to be very showy. That’s what our master is. He takes your body and my knowledge and claims the fruit of our labor as his own.”
“Does pompous mean the same?”
“Close enough.” Homunculus swirled, agitated. “Doesn’t that make you angry? Rich people, like our master, are especially pretentious.”
Hohenheim laughed. “Not just the rich. Ihab is, too.”
“Would it make you angrier to know the alchemist wants your blood again? He could accidentally kill you, you know.”
“What good does angry do me? Or these big words?” Hohenheim tapped the glass. “Why do you help me at all? I’m just a slave.”
“We’re blood. You’re my father.” Homunculus smiled. “Knowledge is power, Hohenheim. Someday, you’ll be grateful that I’m teaching you.”
Hohenheim smeared the ashes he wrote in. “Maybe.” He glanced at the white scar across his wrist where he had been bled the last time. “Wish someday was soon,” he muttered.
Author –
cornerofmadnessDisclaimer – so not mine
Rating – PG-13
Characters- Hohenheim, Homunculus
Series – Manga
Timeline- set far in the past, spoilers from chapters beyond #73
Summary – The homunculus knows teaching this slave is a path to freedom.
Word Count – 996
Author’s Note – written for the
fma_fic_contest for the prompt “pompousity & pretentious”. It tied for 3rd and the really cool banner was made b y sky_dark. Thanks to evil_little_dog for the quickie beta. Hohenheim was chattering about this during the home stretch of nanowrimo. Luckily I had time to finish both. And this one did not want to be 1000 words or less.* * *
“Pompous ass,” the homunculus hissed as the alchemist hustled a young slave girl out of the lab.
Hohenheim didn't look up at the table where the flask sat. He didn't like the idea that the thing was watching him all the time, especially when Hohenheim was performing the task his master had set him to these past two weeks. He picked himself off the pallet that served as his bed, tying up his trousers. Even though he was very tired right now, there was more work to do and a beating waiting him if he didn't get it done. He set to putting away the various chemicals his master had left out.
“Don’t you agree?”
“Hmm?” Hohenheim wasn’t really listening. The creature in the flask was good at distracting him for hours, earning him extra beatings and losing him meals.
“That alchemist is a pompous ass,” Homunculus said in slow deliberate measures as if talking to a child.
Hohenheim shrugged, intent on his task.
“Do you even know what pompous means?”
Pausing, he glared at the homunculus. Hohenheim hated when it took that tone with him, like he was an idiot. He actually didn’t know what pompous meant and wasn’t sure he cared. “Yeah.”
“Liar.” The thing swirled in the glass, its spooky eye fixing on Hohenheim. “He thinks he can play with you. You do realize why he brings those girls to you, don’t you?”
Hohenheim felt the heat rising in his cheeks and turned back to putting away the chemicals. “Happy slaves work harder, that’s what Ihab always says.”
“Ihab?”
“The head slave. He never comes in here so you haven’t seen him.” Hohenheim frowned. “He likes to hit.”
“Do the girls make you happy?”
That sounded honestly curious instead of critical. Hohenheim couldn’t look at his friend in the flask, however. What the girls did more than anything was make him uncomfortably curious. Ihab was so often wrong that Hohenheim didn’t believe he was given those girls to make him happy. They made his body feel good but the Master came and took them away almost immediately, leaving nothing to prolong the blissful feeling afterward.
“I thought not,” Homunculus said, “that alchemist is only interested in you making babies with them.”
The flask in Hohenheim’s hand bobbled, spilling the liquid all over his hand. Yelping, he held his burning appendage close. “How can liquid burn?”
“Hohenheim, put the soap powder on it right now then get it under water,” Homunculus demanded.
The young slave obeyed. The burning slowed then stopped. Little blisters popped out over his flesh. “It hurts.”
“You spilled acid on yourself. Soap is a base. You’ll be fine but you should be more careful.”
Hohenheim patted his hand dry before returning to his task. “You shouldn’t talk about babies. I’m too young for that.”
“Do you think he cares? Do you think you would ever get to see the child?” Homunculus’ voice softened, making Hohenheim pay close attention to him.
“Why would he do that?”
“He tried many times to create me. I heard him say so. He was furious his own blood wasn’t enough.” Homunculus chuckled. “That’s when he realized he needed more than he was willing to drain from his own body. You were the first slave that allowed him this level of creation and the alchemist believes you to be special. He wants to create more special slaves and if it fails, well, breeding your own slaves is cheaper than buying them.”
Hohenheim scowled, a shudder running through him. He didn’t want to think about this. Not that he could do anything about it. His master would do terrible things to him if he didn’t obey. Hohenheim’s wishes weren’t worth noticing. “There, done. Do you think he’ll notice I spilled some of the acid?”
Homunculus swirled again, pressing the eye against the glass. “He never pays attention to how much he has, anyhow. Take me over to the hearth. If you’re not going to talk to me, maybe I should give you a lesson.”
Hohenheim picked up the flask. “I was talking to you, Homunculus, but I don’t want to talk about what the Master wants me to do with those girls. It’s sad.”
The homunculus’ ‘mouth’ pulled down as Hohenheim put his flask on the hearth. “I suppose it is. Get your stick and let’s draw your letters.”
Hohenheim listened to the homunculus recite what order he was supposed to put the letters in. He had mastered the alphabet weeks ago and now they were onto making real words. This one was a really long one and Hohenheim had no idea what it was. It was going to break his jaw if he tried to get his tongue around it.
The homunculus made a critical sound. “You have two letters exactly backwards, Hohenheim. I swear you can’t see your letters correctly.”
Hohenheim looked at what he had written then spotted the mistakes. Correcting them, he glanced at the flask. “What is ‘prentice’?”
“Pretentious,” the creature corrected him. “It means to exaggerate your importance or to be very showy. That’s what our master is. He takes your body and my knowledge and claims the fruit of our labor as his own.”
“Does pompous mean the same?”
“Close enough.” Homunculus swirled, agitated. “Doesn’t that make you angry? Rich people, like our master, are especially pretentious.”
Hohenheim laughed. “Not just the rich. Ihab is, too.”
“Would it make you angrier to know the alchemist wants your blood again? He could accidentally kill you, you know.”
“What good does angry do me? Or these big words?” Hohenheim tapped the glass. “Why do you help me at all? I’m just a slave.”
“We’re blood. You’re my father.” Homunculus smiled. “Knowledge is power, Hohenheim. Someday, you’ll be grateful that I’m teaching you.”
Hohenheim smeared the ashes he wrote in. “Maybe.” He glanced at the white scar across his wrist where he had been bled the last time. “Wish someday was soon,” he muttered.
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