The Fire of Change

Oho, right, the promotion. He almost forgot about that, when way before when he saved Aldrich's life from a band of assassins, something like that should be reserved as a right and privilege for him. It really was a riot, his ranking attained not upon the merit and duty as many officers and officials of Amestris like to hogwash it into, but rather the finer points of killing so many men, so many lives shed, destroyed, and ended, all for his ranking to be attained this high. So this was his Equivalent Exchange eh? He was worth thousands of soldiers, widows, orphans, civilians, cripples, elderly and the weak. All bled to die not for their country, but for a nice promotion and a better looking uniform if not some medals thrown in to boot just to dignify his role as a dog. A bloodhound leashed by the military to be released.

"What is another promotion when the prestige is already vast? Not that I don't appreciate your goodwill." Nikolaus smirked at Aldrich, bold bastard he was, it was calming talking to this husk to say the least, "I am afraid politics is not my battlefield, I am only a filthy mutt that does what it's told, wagging its tail obediently. I have no sway in the greater schemes of Amestris as much as you do, Herr Von Konig."

Aye, this was very much true. Von Konig was a head of an industry, rife with so much money that Nikolaus may as well consider him equivalent to a member of the Invictus Society. Although he wasn't certain of the ancient man's exact role, as it hasn't dawned to him of his membership of such a secretive society. A mystery really, just so many secrets from this man's times alive, that he was alive during the times of Mustang's suppression of the coup d'etat, or so the history books tell of everyone. It'd be interesting to just crack his head and see everything his brain ever holds, quite the interesting thing this thought is, making Nikolaus feel fuzzy inside.

But then the great stag spoke, gravitating Nikolaus's attention span to highlight everything he is saying. The Chancellor spoke. His words brought some semblance of a meaning, mingling those without merits among those whom are murderers and killers of prestigious standing, the military. What does the civilian body have to do with the military anyways? They aren't defended unless they were attacked directly, and it was the military that suffered. A delusion in the end that amused the Colonel at this great deception. Naive little Chancellor, there is no such thing as true equality...

Ho ho, quite the politician that Reinhardt he was. Listening further of honeyed promises given to the masses, chuckling at just how easily they founded themselves swayed by his magnetic words was very much humoring. It was just like Aldrich and the rescue of the assassins. People flocked to these mere words, assurances, and news like moth to a lamp. Ah, just when will they ever learn? They mustn't ever destroy their enemies, only weaken them. Amestris's military was not built for her friends, and neither were their walls. The economy was made on the foundation of mobilization, in the unifying concept of total war. Aldrich here should know this... yes, he was born to that era of constant warfare that still dims to this day.

The last part was the real knocker, he just didn't know his smile extended that his cheeks are more pronounced. Giving the power to the people eh? The greatest mistake he'd ever have done, no matter how idealistic it was. People are prone to human errors and mistakes, and are swayed by emotions and passion, not logic or reason. It is beyond their very existence, as they aren't suited towards such a realm. And neither is Nikolaus. For what does a collared hound like him know? His world... it's a more honest one. His enemies are obvious, and all he needed is to shoot them in the face and drop them down. Yes, hunter and prey. A relationship he is fond of. So how is it he has founded himself fond of Aldrich? Was he a prey to him? He could very easily snap his neck yet... he wasn't an enemy. This doesn't make sense. Bah, he ignored such thoughts.

"Hans Reinhardt, quite the demagogue isn't he? He plays politics out of excess, a fine spinster had I ever seen one, I'd say he equals you in oration, Herr Von Konig." Guttural mockery or praise churned out of his lips, looks like this'll be a finer tiding worth exploring, and Hans is an interesting character, given great parties, great speeches, naive character and a wife he wouldn't mind copping a feel or two. Good tastes that man has, good tastes indeed.

What a delicious crowd this event had gathered, so many stages of life, so many stages of decay. Everything from youthful enlistees and officer’s children to that most ancient and decrepit old man Aldrich von Konig… whom would have eventually garnered Fogg’s attention were it not for the appearance of that ivory haired enchantress who stalked through the crowds, her feral features that of a hunter who had spotted their prey and knew in its heart of hearts that nothing would stop it. While the woman herself had years of intense military training that gave her amazing visual processing speed, Fogg had decades of practice in analyzing minutia of the human form. Her shape was lean but her gait hinted at the muscle weight hidden beneath her uniform. While she could not be called fully voluptuous, she nonetheless carried curves befitting of a woman of her genetic privileges. While on initial observation he could not fully tell if her skin and hair were traits of a mild albinism, however in accordance with her muscle mass and stature it became more obvious that she was of Northern descent with her skin aptly adjusted to absorbing vitamin D from the oft missing Northern sun.

And now she was upon him, her hand up in salute and then presented before him, an ancient gesture of good faith usually used to show that a hand grasped could hold no weapons. Then again, with alchemists a foot, a hand is enough of a weapon itself.

Fogg reached forth and grasped the much younger woman’s hand in his, at first seeming to be performing a standard handshake. However almost as soon as his grip became locked, his own hand burst open into a myriad of lesser digits of various shapes and kinds, each analyzing the offered hand in excruciating detail. While his hand busied itself, the Xingman smiled widely with a metallic sheen, revealing the seemingly endless numbers of fine needles that made up his teeth. “It is, my dear child, a most great honor in meeting such a fine sample of the human race as you. I must say the musculature of your hand is quite superb, so powerful and yet so dexterous, the hand of a warrior and a tinkerer, a hand worthy of both the blade and the wrench one could feasibly say. It is a hand that I could do very much justice if I were to have some time alone with it, time to pry away its minor imperfections and make it all the more deliciously perfect. One must have as fine a canvas as possible to start, and you, my dear, are quite the catch.”

With his other hand he reached out and pushed back his gasa, revealing his own yellowed eyes, open in his great interest despite their normally slit appearance. “But please, do excuse me, one must have introductions before one may speak of pleasure hm? I am Captain Gabriel Thadeus Fogg, the new head of the Briggs Science department, and I am most please to meet you, Sergeant.”

She listened to him with great amusement as he held her hand with a firm grip indeed resembles that of steel. A utopia of machine it is. His minute instruments kept examining her and the master showed a great interest and addressed her as a fine sample. Indeed, how refined of him. Of course, she didn't retract back her hands, she let him do as he wish. Good thing is that his sensors can not see the past and only capable to see what the past did to her.

It seems that his many eyes were able to see through her hand. They see how are her muscles are toned from both cladding her blades whether sabre it be or a claymore not only that. Her hand showed the signs of someone who tampers with technology and tames the various kinds of metal. Indeed, a lot of dreams she has about the 'ex machina'. It is when she will be able to do more and a lot more than ordinary humans can do. She really wants to see the very minute details of objects. A breeze comes and pass away by her and that when her nose will be bathed in all kinds of perfumes. Her ears will hear like a predator in wait to hunt both the hunter and hunted. Her body will be able to do incredible things and more when she wears her battle armor.

She wants to drink it...

...Indeed, a new world for her awaits.

And it seems she found someone who may help but of course she will have to offer something on the table, it is just how things go. He pushed away his gasa and clearly she she saw his yellow eyes though unlike any other mortal they are silted and he introduced himself as Captain Gabriel fogg, head scientist of fort briggs. Well, if he considered her a fine sample and quite the catch. Then she too finds him as a powerful contact and quite the catch.

She continued her conversation with him while - in background - the chancellors was making his own speech. The honor is mine, Captain Gabriel. I am really surprised, My visage is usually interpreted to that of a soldier but you were able to tell that this hand not only capable of holding tools of destruction but tools of construction as well.

She paused a little as her eyes glimmered in interest So may I ask and do excuse me for my curiosity for I think both of us share a common interest...Beneath this kimono, I sense a utopia. How does it feel to be one with a machine ?

"I was once part of noble family back in Creta before the hostile takeover of the throne by Dietrich. I was sent here by my family when I was young, but the manners never went away," Well, well, well... AND he was a nobelman as well! The surprises that people could bring to the table were never ending, and ever excellent. Well, in most cases like this at least. Her eyebrows raised at this new information as her own chuckle blended into his deep laugh that resonated so. Oh that was a good laugh! You could really feel it in your ribcage like a good bass beat at a club. It was also endearing to her since it caused others to look up in confusion at the sudden rumbling sound. Confused faces really were just the best thing when you needed random hilarity because people were just so confused! "Sorry, I'm sure you aren't here for a history lesson Doctor. We were talking about you!"

Cora waved a hand dismissively, "Oh please, I hardly mind." Which was the truth. Everyone rambled on from time to time, herself included. That was usually in medical terms that few really understood but that was besides the point! "So only a few months huh? From what I've heard it sounded much longer than that. I've read your file as well, you're a strong warrior and a brilliant medic. A strange combination in a woman so young, but that's great!" Oh.. well... She wasn't THAT amazing... His genuine enthusiasm coupled with her modesty-embarrassment mix caused quite the rosy tinge to spread across her cheeks, scratching the back of her head out of that same embarrassment while her eyes glanced elsewhere. "Well thank you Brigadier General, but you yourself are also quite an anomaly for one of your age! You hold such a prestigious rank already in one of the harshest headquarters of Amestris, and you too, are young. Thats nothing to sneeze at." She HAD to return such a high compliment with one of her own. HAD TO. "I can tell you have passion in your work, that's hard to find these days. With war shadowing the world, people like you will make the difference." Oh now really, how much was she going to blush right now? At the very least the young doctor managed to bring her chocolate eyes back to her new friend, her pouty lips only seeming to pout more due to their octopus nature (as some had said once) despite the smile that they wore.

"I apologize, I suppose I just get excited when I meet interesting new people," Once more she had to shake her head, quite charmed by his manners. She had to wonder if he got the ladies a lot hm? While he was chuckling at his own enthusiasm, she laughed softly for other reasons, "I do. I love to help people in whatever way that might be. Whether its punching someones lights out, or repairing a broken tibula, it does not matter! I do prefer not aiding in perpetuating war though, so you are correct. Thank you." Now she was the one that was rambling! And see? Medical technical terms! Oh who cared, they were having a good time! "It's really quite alright Jethro. New people are exciting to meet! They have their different experiences and stories, who wouldn't want to learn about all that?" Oh they were going to get along just swimmingly at Briggs, she could just tell. Well, at least however often they ran into each other since he would undoubtedly be busy along with Reila over matters of state or some such, while she would be hiding away in her medical ward looking over files or healing the ill.

But now it was time for the million dollar question; why Briggs? She had to admit, she was the most curious about his answer to that particular question. They stood there, staring into each others eyes, and his answer hardly disappointed her. "I suppose I felt I could help the most there, not to mention most of my old men from West City were transferred to Briggs after it was shut down. The Lt. General offered me the job when I returned, and I knew it was fate showing me where to go," As his answer slowly unfolded, a knowing smile grew more and more across her features, folding her arms over her chest as her weight shifted more onto one leg. Heh... Now wasn't that funny eh? A slight nod began as he fell silent, a chuckle of hers filling the space it left behind. "I see... So you came for similar reasons to myself," she began, a gleam flittering across her eyes. "My sister and I had just graduated med school, and we went out to a bar in Central to celebrate. But there was also a group of soldiers from Briggs there that day and I can tell you, they left quite an impression upon me. Well, I'm sure you can guess the rest as I stand here before you." She shrugged lightly and grinned, falling quiet as those around them also fell silent. What was... Ohhhh.... The Chancellor was speaking!

“Look at us. A great gathering of the people of Amestris and where does everyone stand? Each with their own. Are we all too afraid to mingle with those who are different than us? Can lowly citizen not mingle with high-ranking officials? Must we all be so scared of each other?” Well now, that could hardly be true. Jet was a new initiate! Oh but Hans was being general, and she was being far too specific. So Cora shrugged lightly as some around them looked a bit uncomfortable. “ Now is not the time to appear divided. War and terrorist attacks have done that well enough. We do not need to give the rest of the world the privilege of mocking us in our misery. There is a reason we were attacked. The strongest fall the furthest.” Amen to that. The war in Drachma was a testament to that enough. “And we have fallen low. It is time to rise from the ashes of our ruined country and prove that we are still strong. It is time to prove that we can survive. I will do what is necessary to make our home whole again.” He was quite the poet wasn't he? Not that she was hardly complaining, it was a rather admirable trait amongst a leader. As long as they didn't ramble on too terribly long you know? With super abstract examples... and stuff.... [i]“And any who oppose this, whether they be foreign or here in this very room, will be stopped. The time for leniency is over. Many of our people have shed their blood for this country. And they will not be the last, sadly. Danger still exists that threaten our very existence. Any and all who threaten our people's security will be taken down.” Damn straight they would be. Cora could feel the smirk growing into an almost mischievously devious sort of grin, yet the fire that was in her eyes was only one of the nationalistic pride that Hans had re-awoken within her. Their country was weak right now after all of the wars that they had been through, and they were barely getting any time in for recovery. They had to shut down two branches of the military in order to consolidate more! They had to put a stop to this. They had to be vigilant. “We are a nation built around a strong military and held up by stronger citizens. We are few now, when we used to be many. That is no reason to be any less than what we are. We are Amestris. We are brave. We are resolute. And we will succeed. Do not let those who died, die in vain. We will honor their lives they laid down for us and we will make Amestris whole. Alchemist and soldier, politician and citizen. We all have a great responsibility ahead of us. Let us not disappoint.” YEA! PREACH IT BROTHA! She felt a really strong compulsion to yell that out, but that would hardly be appropriate given the setting and overall atmosphere that they found themselves within. So instead, the young doctor beamed as her clapping was a bit more enthusiastic than others, whistling softly under her breath. Hey, she had to get something in.

As the clapping died down into the soft hum of faint voices, it appeared that the sea of militants was moving onwards into the largest sphere that had been blocked off before. Looking up to her large friend, Cora just nodded after everyone with a small chuckle, herself turning away to head onwards. Words were unnecessary as you could feel the new found strength that tied them all together now. It was as if there were an invisible thread running through each person to the next about them, creating a giant web of the Amestrian militants that had gathered there this day for this auspicious event. It was neither a somber air, nor a light-hearted one. It merely was. There was an understanding that hung there above them all as they gathered about the dark torch in the center of that gorgeous garden. The music lifted up above them as a song to the heavens, calling out across space and time to the very fabric that they were all made of.

“We've all lost someone very dear to us in this struggle. Family, friend, compatriot. Everyone feels loss. Let us find solace together. Let us honor their deaths, and celebrate their lives.” Cora's lips tightened as her hands now hung at her sides, her bracelets clinking softly at the movement as she could feel the weight that had begun to gather towards the edges of the group, slipping and sliding inwards towards the focal point; the unlit torch. All those men she hadn't saved, that hadn't been spared, that fell into the silence.... Yes, she could practically feel them at her sides behind her, their hands resting on each others shoulders until the final two touched her own. Her head bowed, eyes closed, one of her hands beginning to close into a fist as she felt that comradeship grow and swell in her chest. Yes... she still carried that guilt. Her hand began to raise towards her stomach. Yes... she still felt a pang of pain everytime she thought of their names. Her hand rose further up to her chest. But that didn't mean she should blame herself any longer. Her fist now rested over her heart as her chocolate eyes opened and stared onwards towards that unlit torch, a single tear rolling down her cheek as she felt all of those invisible hands linked to her shine brightly before flowing into her, warming her in ways she couldn't possibly ever describe. While others heads bowed, hers remained tall, staring onwards with a resoluteness that was utterly unshakable. No more.

Selectionism was a word that generally only pertained to evolutionary theories pertaining to selective genetics being passed on to make the better DNA. It could also be said that the exclusionary habits of human nature also boasted the same things, just on more of a subconscious level. Shula stood quietly with her frinds and listened carefully, and almost found it a little funny that it took someone actively pointing out that Amestrians weren't the most eager to mingle. That wasn't to say Ishvallans or anyone else didn't do it, too; Shula had been brought up by her mother to be wary of other people, even though she was half Amestrian. They didn't understand and couldn't be trusted. Alchemists were bad and couldn't be trusted, present company of her grandfather excluded. Once she started at South, she'd been excluded because she was part of an integration program and seen as a social experiment rather than another person trying to help improve things. The newly enlisted sat away from the officers and rarely had friendly relationships with the higher ranks, and once they were higher, not with the lower ranking. And then in Central the militants were there own little families and kept themselves so far away from the vicilians. Even here at this gathering she'd seen it, how people kept to their own social circles like a caste system, introducing others to her own family how their opinions would differ between her war-hero grandfather and her father the humble tailor.

Stern and wrist-smacking as what their new Chanellor had to say was, at least he had a fiar point; if they wanted things to get better, they'd have to try and be one rahter than a bunch of separate cliques and outdated castes, like something she'd been arguing her whole life with her mother on a much bigger and more important scale. It's not whom we exclude and what we choose to remain ignorant of, but instead whom we embrace and what we open our arms to learn. As the towering man finished, the crowd went silent; it was entirely possible that they could have heard a butterfly fart over the uncomfortable stillness that had shot through hundreds at once. If anyone succumbed to the forces of the Giggle Loop now, they would probably be beaten up. And then finally, a clap, quiet and polite at first, then slowly joined by others as things sank in. Whether they truly got the point or were merely trying to be supportive wasn't certain, but he hadn't lost them. Shu smiled faintly as she applauded, watching as Hans stepped away from the podium and gestured for her to join him. A tiny glance to her dearest friends over her shoulder as she walked upward to puer her small brown arm around Hans', her heart eating in her ears as she ignored that she seemed almost the size of a small child against his giant frame.

I'm doing this for Aaron, I'm doing this for Aaron... The mantra repeated in her mind as she walked quietly to the aviary sphere, the lighting low and ambient. The hundreds behind them followed, the sound of shuffling feet drowning out the sounds of any of their chatter as they approached the center of the great area. There at the heart of it stood a giant bowl on a platform. A light that would be a beacon. Memory. Hope. The very beating heart of her brother infused with her own soul. Even without Hans using this as smething so official, Shula would have made the Gardens and the fire anyway, but she was glad he came and brought the whole of the country with him. She'd designed it and started it with the money Aaron had given to her for so long, but it wasn't just for her to remember him; it was for everyone. Shu's thoughts returned to her as her hand was squeezed, Hans pulling something from his coat as he resumed speaking. "We've all lost someone very dear to us in this struggle...” Several someones. I got lucky I guess that my family lived so far away from the main cities that they weren't hurt further... I don't know how I'd have coped losing them along with Aaron...

Shula walked past the barrier that separated where benches were to where the platform was, and moved toward the ladder up. She didn't need the painstakingly intricate notes she'd written for the circle; she'd spent so many months designing, drawing and testing things that she knew its perfect look in her sleep. Adding the last few things would only take her a moment physically, but emotionally? She wasn't sure. There had been no body to bury. There had been no goodbye, and no confirmation as to whether he'd been missing, dead or a prisoner elsewhere until finally she was given the State watch Aaron was due. She still didn't want to believe that he was really gone; Brightons were survivors... Her feet moved for her, and something small was pressed to her hand deslicately. Red eyes blinked as she looked down to her hand; a pressed daisy. A personal token. Shu gave him a small nod in understanding, even if she didn't know who the daisy was meant for. That was his someone. Tiny feet swung over the side of the bowl and began to climb down the small ladder that hung inside of her great work. It's showtime, Aaron... Just don't push me in to be a brat, kay?

The inside of the giant earthen bowl sloped gently, a large array carved into its body, much like the terra cotta array she had sculpted on top of the clay disk to make flowers grow. Clay was a good medium, but an array sculpted into one was just a pretty picture. The daisy was put aside for a moment as a tiny bit of chalk was picked up out of the groove by a small, delicate hand, the white pressing against the clay and leaving its residue. Arrays were just pretty art without something to make them go, like the key in the ignition making the spark to turn over an engine. Challk was pefect because it represented all steps of life and alchemy at once as it started as a living thing, died, calcified, and became something else entirely. Perfect natural transmutation. Shula was silent in her work as she drew in the last of what was needed, trying not to cry. Every stroke of her chalk she saw Aaron. The first array Grandfather taught him to make, drawn out on the floor when he was a boy. Climbing onto her brother's shoulders as he practiced the fundamentals of his earth alchemy, Shula doing her best to copy whatever he was doing when she'd land back on the floor. Sprawled across her bed together with him, books and notes everywhere, Aaron studying as Shula practiced drawing simple arrays in crayon. How he'd defended and praised her the first time Shula was successful, even though it was just turning cream into butter. "Way to go, Snack Food!" How his hand had mussed her hair.

"Look Broght Eyes! Look what I made for you!"
His smile.
"Hey Fun Size, which one do you want to hear tonight?"
His warm hands ruffling her hair.
"You made it to State Alchemist... The world should be so afraid."
His arms moving around her shoulders to pull her to his chest.
"I'm so proud of you, Kiddo."
His soft kiss to the crown of her forehead.
"I love you, Shu."

Those things would never be hers again.

Shula hadn't noticed she'd stopped drawing for a moment, her throat swelling shut as her eyes stung. This really was the last goodbye; the memorial service had been for everyone and she'd gotten his watch. But this was his gift to her, being used for everyone, but made to feel peace and connect with him. She took in a shuddering breath, finishing the line that would connect a starter to the top side of the bowl to make it easier for her. That was simply chalk and would burn off but give her an easy way to start the fire without catching her dress. Array finished, the daisy was picked up. You were his someone... The dried flower was pressed to Shula's glossed lips gently as though kissing a friend's cheek before it was put in the heart of the circle. Her hand moved into the inside of her choli, pulling a small photo out from above her breast. She and Aaron, smiling brightly and making peace signs, taken right before she'd been stationed at South as a teenager. One of the last photos of them together, and the last time he ever looked honestly happy. A kiss to his face through paper lingered in prayer, hoping it would reach him before the photo was placed down with the flower. Aaron... Look after her.

The chalk was left in the groove as Shula climbed back up the ladder, stopping for a moment to bite hard into the soft flesh of her middle fingertip with her canines, breaking the skin and glistening life rushing to the surface. Chalk was calcified life; blood was life in its purest and most powerful form. She carefully swung back over the side and pulled the small ladder out, flexing her fingers to well more blood to the tip as she pressed her hand to the "ignition;" her own personal exchange payment. The shining wet ruby dripped downward, Shu's hand lingering to squeeze out a few more drops before she pulled away to step down the ladder and back to the platform. Fresh life met calcified life and slurried together, the line connecting them to the great array below; a spark was given from trace amounts of other things as the arract activated. Earth and soul and air and fire were one with the water that pulsed beneath them and fueled it. The fire started small at first as the array activated in the center and spread, soon filling the giant dish. Shula stepped away, pulling the small ladders down and away and handing them to a groundskeeper, waiting for a long moment instead of rejoining her friends. The fire was lit and would stay lit on its own, never to go out or go cold. Slowly, silently Shula moved further back from the pyre, pausing a moment to stand beside Hans before finally returning to the crowd, her father's arms pulling her close and holding her there.

Blood-coloured eyes looked up through the glass at the starry sky above them. Ishvalla, you live beyond the stars- If you can hear my cry, and if you have compassion... Please send no more to die.

The creature’s bizarre appendage released its powerful yet delicate grip upon the young woman’s hand, its shape compacting itself back into an approximate human facsimile. These were so many things that those hands of her told him, so much could be read simply from the lines of a palm much less the strength of its grip and the grooves of its muscles. This was a hand embedded with muscle memory, its actions and reactions so heavily engraved into it that they became instinctual, beyond the need for analysis or thought, beyond the need for morality or judgment. This was a hand tempered into a tool, and a tool honed very precisely to its purposes. To Fogg, this woman walked a path very similar to his, seeking bodily perfection at whatever costs. The concept of losing one’s humanity was alien to individuals like these who had so long ago deemed humanity too mundane, too simple, and too primitive. If the body, that gross and weak human vessel, could not withstand the steps towards perfection then it needed to be cast aside…

Many had accepted his prices for his knowledge, allowing themselves to be put under his knife to be made better, faster, stronger. However they all had their own agendas for allowing this: an arm capable of killing their enemies, a body capable of withstanding gunfire, eyes that could pierce the dark, or hands that could pick any lock. They did not want the full package, they did not want perfection, they merely wanted to be head and shoulders above the competition, to be able to pursue goals both mundane and temporal. However, here before him, was a woman who shared his goal, who shared his wish for a body unhampered, a form greater than any man or beast, immortal and perfect. His mind did not look to this woman as a rival nor indeed did it truly look at her as an ally in the conventional sense of the word. What he had found was the perfect subject, both willing and capable to undergo what had before required so many messy and fruitless attempts. A pulse of dopamine rushed through his torn and ragged body, a small taste of chemical reward for discovering such a useful tool, though the sensors which accepted this taste were long since beyond stimulus.

She described his form as a utopia; she asked what it felt like to be one with the machine. How could one without feeling, one without pleasure or pain, describes the unity of its form, the sense of its imperfections, and yet its testament to the length that he come since beginning his journey? In the background, Shula had lit the great blazing fire that would supposedly last forever, a perfect balancing act between the oxygen of the flowers and the carbon dioxide of the fire. It represented a kind of perfection, a kind of seamless joining where one could barely distinguish the parts which made it. It was fitting.

“One is not one with anything but oneself, my child.” His grin widened slightly as he spoke, “The machine is merely a realization of myself, a step towards the eventual truest incarnation of my being, you see, Sergeant, I pursue perfection, I pursue absolution.” He laughed slightly, not the cackle for which he has been known for but rather a seemingly polite laugh. “But one must admit that the frail form of flesh is very much advanced by its union to machine. Shall I show you? Shall I show you how far this body has come?”

We are a nation built around a strong military and held up by stronger citizens. We are few now, when we used to be many. That is no reason to be any less than what we are. We are Amestris. We are brave. We are resolute. And we will succeed. Do not let those who died, die in vain.

Does Hans Reinhardt even know what he is saying? Does he understand to whom he is speaking?! He speaks of the sacrifices made in the last few weeks as though they were a singular even, a occurrence never before seen and will never occur again. He speaks as though their sacrifice is enough, as if it is Equivalent Exchange to make the people of Amestris change towards a better future! WHAT THE FUCK DOES THIS MAN KNOW?!

Aldrich’s prosthetic arm clenched as he suppressed his inner rage, his face remaining impassive and seemingly uninterested. “No, you are right Herr Stuka, you live in a much more honest world do you not? Black and white, kill or be killed. To someone like you, a grey area is simply something to be eradicated for efficiency is it not? Words are no defense against a bullet; political titles are no protection against a well-aimed dagger. However, Herr Stuka, more often than not it is the bite of the Dog rather than the command of the Master which makes a difference, which is remembered.”

We've all lost someone very dear to us in this struggle. Family, friend, compatriot. Everyone feels loss. Let us find solace together. Let us honor their deaths, and celebrate their lives.

The old man sneered violently. There was no honor in Death. Death left gaping voids that could not be so easily healed. Does the Chancellor really think that a few words and a big fire are going to change things? Does he really think that this country has any chance of escaping its past?! Aldrich’s rage flowed through him as he thought of the past hundred years, of the promises made and broken, of the wars that came and went, of Elisabeth…

The arm of his wheelchair was crushed in his automail’s grip. He had enough of this inane talk, enough of these senseless rituals, enough of this naïve idealism. “There is a difference between me and him, Stuka, one that I am sure you of all of these damned ingrates have noticed. He actually believes in the drivel he spews.” He reached out and grabbed Stuka’s arm with his own withered hand. “You follow your commands Dog. You do as your Master says. Maybe when it’s all said and done you can show this fool what Amestris is really made of.”

The old man released his grip then signaled to his Nurse. There was important business to take care of and it was not going to get done listening to a six and a half foot tall hippie.

Ini listened as people did stuff around her, and casually drank as the party went on. To be quite honest, she found the shindig to be tiresome at best. But her ears perked up when she heard the Chancellor speak. As he gave his rather riveting, lovely speech, she drank a few more gulps of her booze. Well then, this was a rather different approach on leadership. Not so much a speech of how awesome Amestris was, or how horribly they were the victim, but one explaining how Amestris could jump back on its feet through a bit of unity. Bit cliché, but it sounded pretty good, compared to some other hacky-crap speech, likely copy-pasted from jettheham.org or something. She was almost tempted to go up to him and congratulate him on some of his ideals. As to the rest of the speech, she was too focused on the introductory parts to notice it. And as people went to light the fire, she decided at that point to make her exit… SOMEHOW! Perhaps she could find a taxi or something…

[AAAAAAND EXIT THREAD. :3]

[Herr doktor Gabriel fogg, please forgive my delay-ness. But here is the post.]

The fires were lit by the victorious flames - or Shulat An'nasr, another variant of her name - and took the mantle of Radha and it was unknown to all the turmoil in her heart and the longing for someone dear lost. They say 'Radha' means longing and they say too that longing and love are one and same. But humans are just humans, you can not look at them and read their thoughts, you can not just walk past them and share there feelings and you can not - definitely - hear their prayers even if you hear their living heart.

The fallen angel herself is in a turmoil but of a different kind, behind her a past full strife and eventually blood. She can see the rivers of crimson at her feet flowing from behind to the unknown future though she doesn't hear the cries of the countless souls she freed from their mortal carcasses and she doesn't care to. Their stories ended and their dreams perished. And only the most cunning and the one who adapted well stood on her feet as her story continues with a vision in her mind that wishes for realization.

In this day, she met many people. One of them she is going to follow even it was the road to hell, her soul tells her to. And another one who will help her body to adapt more to the environment becoming slowly one with the machine, becoming a menace with a reputation that strikes fear in the hearts of men, that her mind tells her to.

Herr doktor Gabriel Fogg told her that he seeks perfection. He seeks absolution. He offered her a glimpse of his vision. Her eyes showed anticipation and determination can be heard in her voice.

Yes, please do show me.

An eyebrows arose from his otherwise gaunt and lean features of all that which is Nikolaus Stuka. Nah, just from the blond figure of enigmatic proportions that took the mantle of Nikolaus Stuka, a name not of his own. Eyeing those clenched fists the decrepit soldier of olden proportions took, which amused him to what extent can he gather such strengths. Would he merely collapse from the pressure of too much strain on his body? Oh so ignorant of what automail lay underneath. The old man has done well to conceal it underneath those clothing of his. Gathering the fact those aren't the only thing concealed, rather many other myriads of mystery gather from within.

The Chancellor's charade about unity and brotherhood that would at beast ruin the competitiveness that made Amestris great in the first place, hadn't robbed Nikolaus of his attention to his surrounding. Again he noticed something was off with Aldrich, his sneer. Spite that was so typical of him, it was nothing unusual, hence returning his attention to the Chancellor's banters in those times he listened to him, a moment where it partaken in the unmentioned past.

Yet at the conclusion, when Stuka mouthed off the comparisons was when he noticed something most peculiar. This old man's rage, which wasn't exactly unusual. He expected Aldrich to actually blow a gasket or two given how hard it must be in oldness. But the abnormal strength that had Nikolaus's vision covering has drawn his curiousity. So it seems the old man is not as weak or feeble as his body suggests it to be.

"There is a difference between me and him, Stuka, one that I am sure you of all of these damned ingrates have noticed. He actually believes in the drivel he spews." My my, the elderly needs to keep his temper in check. Supposedly Nikolaus's charms still apply to him as always, since their last meeting of infuriating the man from rather simple and trivial statements. Had he been cast into secrecy, he would be grinning like a punk over delighting on another's fury. Yet the old man grasped his hand, it wasn't tight. Rather a queue for his attention. This frail man wanted it. Not that the other guests in this party had anything better to require Nikolaus's apt attention.

"You follow your commands Dog. You do as your Master says. Maybe when it’s all said and done you can show this fool what Amestris is really made of."

"We both know what Amestris is really made of, and it is not made out of chocolate chip cookies, Herr Von Konig." Nikolaus replies sarcastically as he could go, his arm released, making sure to get a line in right before seeing the elderly off, "Farewell old fool, this Dog bids you au revoir. Don't hit your face on the way out."

The elderly was wheeled off. This was Nikolaus's food for thought shot right at Aldrich. So what was he supposed to do now? Ah well, maybe he'll see to the ginger man. But first things first was to actually have another drink of the Martini. Which he kindly embezzled by snatching it right off a tray a waitress held around for guests to do exactly just that -- snatch. Chugging it down and setting the empty glass over to the tray from whence it came from.

The moment of silence was potent for Hans as he gently held his wife. But it was over soon and the eternal fire was lit. As the lights came back on, he noticed that the mingling seemed to become more intermixed amongst the groups. It was refreshing. Brigitte went off to freshen up, leaving Hans alone for the moment. He peeked into his pocket, pulling out the paperwork he had received from Aldrich. He flipped through the business cards, noting the names of several company, recognizing that Aldrich was affiliated with every single one. Then he opened the narrow piece of paper that turned out to be a check. His eyebrows raised slightly and he whistled low. Well. Well, well, well. That was a pretty penny and no mistake. It would rebuild an entire city. It would also effectively put Amestris and Hans into Aldrich's debt. That was not a pleasing situation to Hans' mind. Not at all. He needed Aldrich and the other wealthy Amestrians to help with their country, but this was too much. Far, far too much.

But, he could deal with that later. Brigitte returned and like he promised, he danced with her. He was also able to speak more with other individuals and generally enjoyed the rest of the time in the gardens. He personally thanked Shula for all she had done and took up her offer on giving him details in regards to Central HQ. As the last of the party-goers left the garden at the end of the night, Hans was pleased... and relieved. Things had gone relatively smoothly and he had presented a good image to his people. Which was well and good because the dirty work he would have to do to make his country whole again was going to make some people regret ever putting him in office.

[CLOSE THREAD]