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A New Time, A New Take

Discussion in 'General Role Play' started by LaenVulpix, Sep 9, 2007.

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  1. {{OOC - A Full Metal Alchemist RP, for the record. And note that I draw my resources from the manga, as I prefer it to the anime. Lawl! This is an...alternate reality from the series-world, if you will. Loik, Ishval already on bad terms with Amestris, but the full-blown war hasn't broken out. And no characters from the anime will make appearances, although obviously (if you read the post) their alchemy is free. Simply because I spent OMG-forever researching Roy's means of using Flame Alchemy. This has, of course, nothing to do with my affection towards him. However, if you do use it, make sure you UNDERSTAND it. Alchemy = science (+ Godmody L33T powah), after all.

    If ya dunno much about FMA but like the RP-idea, Wikipedia is your best friend, and PM/MSN me. 'cause I am starved for RP, damnitall. D=<


    PS - Even if this RP bombs (which I expect it to, lawl), I might make a mini-series outta it. Because the FMA world is so freakin' win. }}





    The dulled metal of the train, trundling along at an easy pace along the Amestris countryside, was red. Not exactly the color of long-settled rust, but close enough. Smoke wafted from the smudged black locomotive in great billows, clouding what little part of the cerulean sky the day's low-slung cumulous clouds had failed to find; and the machine crawled across its tracks, dipping obligingly into subtle hills and valleys. Yellowed weeds lashed from side to side as it roared past briefly, encountering a more powerful wind than the commonplace gusts that sent shivers across the plains on days similar to this one.

    On occasion the passenger train lugged itself past a farmhouse, set out far from civilization. Several would be immersed in the general crops accompanied by a life of cultivation, their fields crowded with the long, bowing stalks of wheat. Others were just…there. Occupied by people who had neither need nor interest in a city life. A life of greater meaning, some would say.

    A far, far off rumble was lost in the firm groan of working engines and wheels and axles and the like, a mutter that suggested that they were following behind a heavy storm. Dark clouds smeared the near horizon, cloaked by the train's own supply of moody smoke.

    Inside the train were situated rows of bench-like seats, maroon cushions framed in wood. Large windows displayed the vista whether the occupants were interested in what it held or not, and carpeting lined the middle aisle where everyone would crowd once the train ground to a stop outside each station. The seats were half-filled with militia; of these, another half gossiped heartily and animatedly, with smiles on their faces. The other half, most of them visibly younger than the talkers, gazed distractedly around, their thoughts clearly not centered on the present.




    Asher felt his brow furrowing of its own accord as his gaze lost its focus on the large glass window, not for the first time. The reflection of half-lidded, onyx-black eyes that had returned his stare throughout the duration of the trip was now dimmed by a layer of fog, and his white hair was not to be seen at all. He felt the fine strands resting against the side of his cheek and back of his neck from where, at some point, keeping it well-kempt had become a matter of little importance; otherwise the eerie notion that his eyes were the only part of him remaining would've also been disquieting.

    Ash could sense his listless thoughts threatening to drag him down into sleep. Yet, with only several more minutes before the rust-colored train dragged them into Central's station, he could find no reason not to keep awake. That was what he told himself, regardless of the fact that he had prevented himself from propping his own head up, at any time, with the knuckles of his hand. The alcohol he had accepted at some point during the long, dull journey wasn't helping; the cold, empty glass still hung from his left hand. Any drowse-provoking actions might cause just that, and the alchemist was altogether exhausted of jolting awake with sweat on his brow and a tremor lacing his hands.


    The white-haired young man turned his head sleepily to one side, mouth open in a vague acknowledgment. "Eh?"

    The man sitting next to him, looking awkward in his fresh new uniform (the gods knew their old ones were not fit for presenting themselves at Central), was leaned over in an attempt to catch Asher's eye. Upon the dark-eyed character's reaction, he remained glancing up at the other for a moment, and then sat up slowly. He trained his own jade eyes on the other's face and laughed awkwardly.

    "Don't look at me like that, I asked you the same question four times at least." He complained without prompt, reaching up and scratching at his short auburn hair.

    Asher's expression changed minutely, ridding itself of distraction. "Oh? I'm sorry Allen. My mind is already back at Central, I suppose. What did you ask?"

    "Are you being promoted, is what I asked. With that Flame Alchemy of yours you're a bit above some State Alchemists, after all, and you were heading plenty of operations in Ishval."

    Ash sat thoughtfully for a few moments in contemplation. "Probably. The military is interested in obedient dogs after all, correct? Someone like me, who follows whatever orders are given to him, is a prime candidate, I suppose."

    The blunt honesty in the young man's words left no room for comment. After a couple of silent minutes, Allen managed a considerate "I hope you do, then." before turning to focus on something else.

    Asher's set of black eyes studied the interior of the train for several wayward moments before drifting inevitably towards the window once more. The hand holding his glass was loose, and he had to force his grip tighter as his thoughts began to roam once more.
    #1 LaenVulpix, Sep 9, 2007
    Last edited by a moderator: Jul 27, 2014
  2. Musical notes drifted audibly through the car, their twanging moving up and down the register in an unmelodious fashion. Accompanying them were the annoyed grunts of the guitarist playing them as she made adjustments to her instrument. The guitar itself was entirely ordinary, aside from the alchemical circles down the neck and around the hole. Her jet-black hair was pulled back into a ponytail with such an almost unnatural tightness that it seemed to form a helmet over her scalp. This kept it from falling over her guitar, as her ponytail reached down to her lower back. Next to her, a blond with bouncier hair that was almost as long reclined with her hands behind her head.

    "I don't know why you bother tuning it, Gale," the blond commented.

    "I wouldn't have to if you hadn't messed with it, Cassie," Abby "Gale" Force, the guitarist, replied.

    "I mean, why not just use your alchemy make it sound right," Cassiopeia "Cassie" Novak, the blond, said. "You are, after all, the Singing Alchemist."

    "Yeah, don't remind me," Gale replied. "The Fuhrer gets clever, and suddenly everyone expects me to carry a tune. Anyway, like I've already told you, I can't just change the sound surreptitiously. I have know the exact sonic frequency I'm trying to change, or it could literally sound like anything. It's either calibrate the guitar precisely or change the formula on the fly, and I'd much rather tune the guitar than my math."

    "Whatever," Cassie said. "Hey, when we get back, do you want to..."

    "No," Gale responded sharply.

    "No, no, no, nothing like that," Cassie said, sitting up. "I'm just saying we should have a few drinks, that's all."

    "I don't drink," Gale said, still focussed on her guitar. "I prefer to keep my mind sharp, thank you very much. And I wouldn't want to get drunk with you anyway. Who knows what you'd try to pull."

    "Hey, it was an honest mistake," Cassie said. "I totally thought you were..."

    "Just forget it," Gale injected. "I intend to spend as much time away from you as possible. Bad enough I had to bunk with you. I swear, they might as well have set me up with one of guys."

    "I just want to make it up to you, that's all," Cassie said. "What do I have to do convince you I'm not some creep?"

    "You could shut up and back off," Gale suggested.

    "Anything you want," Cassie said. "Just name it, and I'll do it."

    "Anything, huh?" Gale noted.

    "I'm going to regret that, aren't I?" Cassie replied.

    "Maybe," Gale answered enigmatically. Finished with her tuning, Gale finally began to play. Melodious tunes wafted playfully across the car, echoing elegantly in its own harmony.
  3. lolz yes my character IS a touch mad. James said he'd get the entire anime of FMA to me, so if he does I'll have some reference. But he prolly won't? hnn.

    I'd have gotten this up sooner but dad stole the internet. I wrote it as soon as i woke up only to find he had gotten there first. Yes I woke up at 2 pm, but that's besides the point.

    The rythmic sway of the train was hypnotic. Outside the window, the land slipped away quickly, like water from cupped hands. Aidelaide tried to watch the bleak landscape slipping by, but it was going too quickly. It was all but impossible. The landscape rarely varied, but Aidelaide found it fascinating to watch none the less, and when a change did come it was both welcome and fascinating.

    Aidelaide sat alone in her seat. No one dared to sit next to the quicksilver alchemist. She had already gained a reputation for being mad.

    Wondering if her reputation was diserved, she stretched her right hand and watched the reflections of the large windows play over it. The blankityblank hand was an improvision of her own and would need replacement parts after this latest misson. She wondered, as soft music floated from the car ahead of hers, if she was due for a premotion. Most likely not. Raving mad lunatics weren't good for the governments reputation. Aidelaide grinned tamely and surveyed her own reflection in the window.

    Her own faded green eyes met those of her reflection. Perhaps they did have a touch of madness in them, she allowed. They showed a sort of blankness, a sort of void she found unnerving on some level, but practical on another. They shone with an always present but restrained sort of passion. That was logical, alchemy was her passion. Her face was reposed, quiet and contemplative, framed by her hair. Her hair might have contributed to the rumours of mental instability, only the hair on either side of her face was a light silver, the rest was a dull glossy brown. Rumour said she dyed it, but the truth of the matter was that it had been permanently bleached in an accident. She had reaserched Alchemy for the government long before she had moved to using it practically, and had been unafraid of trying unconventional methods and new tactics. The lack of caution had cost her, she reflected, glancing briefly at her hand, before returning to study her reflection in the glass once more.

    Her uniform fit awkwardly over her thin frame. Most of the other alchemists had taken one look at her and dismissed her as cannon fodder. She was small and light, accident prone and distant. The uniform did nothing to help, being slightly too large, it gave her the appearence of having lost a good deal of weight rather quickly, and hung even more awkwardly over her lack of breasts. (OCC: OMG! SHE HAS NO BEWBS! :O!)

    But it was a poor first impression. She wouldn't have been a state alchemist if she hadn't been good. She was small, true, but it only served to get her into places most alchemists couldn't reach. She was light, but she was made of pure muscle, and often suprised others by moving things almost twice her weight. She was quick, as well, something most people didn't notice, and had almost made a living by dodging attacks fired at her. Her many scars and injuries had come in the lab, not the field, and were the price she paid for her unique alchemy that had taken almost all of her lifetime, up to this point, to develop. Her alchemy was another suprise, most people didn't realize the air could be manipulated with alchemy, but it really wasn't that much of a suprise, air was just molecules and atoms like anything else. She traced the lightly but precisely etched circle in the metal of her right hand. She also knew the value of always having a circle or two on hand, and sported various alchemy circles about her personhood in the form of tattoos. When you didn't have time to whip up a circle. . . they had come in handy more then once. And her distant, detached demeanor. . . it only served to help her do what needed to be done. She had seen a lot in her brief life, and learned a lot as well, more then most of the other alchemists she rode with. Maybe they didn't want to deal with it, maybe they didn't want to think they could ever turn into a monster like her, and branded her as mad in order to distance her from themselves. . . or perhaps she was just being arrogant and overly over dramatic. She sighed and sunk down in her seat.

    She was drawn from her repose when another alchemist sat down haphazardly beside her. She looked up to see a young man with a messy head of copper hair grinning at her. She smiled back, genuinely glad to see him.

    "And how is the Mercurial Alchemist today?" Aidelaide's face paled.

    "By the Gods! You don't think anyone actually has that title, do you?" The young man laughed.

    "If there was someone with it, you'd probably track them down and show them the real meaning of quicksilver. I think the government knows better then to put its own in positions of such danger."
    It was Aidelaide's turn to laugh.

    "You'd think so, but this war shows differently, doesn't."

    "We'll be pulling into the station in just under half an hour, I thought I'd let you know." With the mention of the war, they had both put on a more serious demeanor.

    Aidelaide looked out at the rolling countryside. It was hard to believe, but soon scatterings of houses appeared, followed by the city, and the train pulled into the station.

    Aidelaide looked grimly upon the bustle of the station. She'd be down there far sooner then she'd like to be, and for the moment, she was happy to not be a part of things.

    But you can't avoid eventualities.
  4. {{OOC - Now I wonder what exactly your alchemy does (the both of yew~) xD. For once I dun't mind being unoriginal, though. 'cause I just want to RP this character type (vw00t). Gotta make sure all of us dun't warp into Mary Sues n' Gary Stus though...mrr...that's what plot is for!

    -pretends she has a defined plot-




    As the stubborn lurching motions of the train began to fade, hisses of steam all-too audible throughout the passenger area, Asher found himself blinking dazedly out the window. He wasn't quite certain when the rolling countryside at warped into the stone-based structure of Central Station, but it had. People of any and all ages milled about outside, their own individual destinations lost in the tides. Around him, figures in blue were all standing up, occasionally raising their arms in exaggerated gestures of weariness, yawning to complete the picture. Ash gripped the armrest of his own chair in a sudden, compulsive motion, eyes widening briefly as the sharp clank of glass reminded him that his hand wasn't empty. Further proving this, his nerveless fingers slipped on the small shot glass.

    With a sharp lurch forward, the white-haired young man grasped the empty cup, heart hammering in his throat despite his fixed countenance. He ran his free hand through his shaggy hair, where his glove's color blended in. He sighed lethargically, staying his runaway heartbeat and uncrossing his legs - yet he remained seated, ebony-black eyes alighting once more on the outside world. Still separated from him by the thin, thin layer of clear glass, where (if he so chose) he could simply elect to focus on his faint reflection instead of the living people beyond him.

    "Honestly..." he muttered, and the hand not clenching his glass bent upwards.

    He rested his gloved white fingers on the curve of his smooth cheek, grinning distractedly in exchange for the thoughts that were in turmoil within.

    The gloves he wore now, the ones pulled snug up to his wrists, they were not the same ones he wore into battle, or on a job. No, for these clean gloves bore no alchemic circle of dark, crimson red. No quartet of connecting triangles, one more amidst the middle of them, encircled by a steady red wall. No arching line that faintly resembled some unknown lizard on the bottom of the circle, yet inside it, or the etching that stood for fire on top.

    They were stripped of this, as if ordering him to strip away the person that owned those gloves and insert a person that would wear these gloves instead.

    Until they needed those gloves, and the person who wore them.

    Asher's eyes locked on the beaming expression of a young, blond-haired toddler; trundling along and dragging behind her an oversized, overstuffed brown bear that only had one of its black button-eyes. He managed a brief genuine smile, before his laborious thoughts returned.

    A voice he had heard not-to-long ago, when he was debating the idea of sleep: "Hey..."

    Asher dipped his head in acknowledgement, but did not turn to meet the red-haired Allen's eyes. "Go on ahead of me, Allen. Maybe we can meet up for a drink later, if the weather can hold clear."

    "Sure, Asher...and besides, I'll probably see you at HQ before then." the man next to him sighed, now standing.

    Now leaving, his black military-issue boots thumping dully on the carpeted aisle.

    For the first time since he'd drained it, sometime at the beginning of their ride, he lifted the thick glass he held. Lifted up in front of his eyes, so that he could see the two pools of black that would be greeting people as if everything was normal. As if everything swimming in the ocean of his memories was A-OK, no problem.

    Ash allowed himself a reprimanding, fierce shake of his head. Every soldier around him was going to do the very same thing; how fair would it to isolate himself, as if his innocence was of more value than theirs?

    Setting the cup on the seat, still warm from his body, Asher stood up. A shiver pricked at the hairs at the nape of his neck, but he had mashed down his glum, depressed mood for now. The of the very last on the train, he shuffled out into the aisle, shouldering his pack of belongings. A pack that held, literally, only what the military had ever seen fit to give him.

    Shifting awkwardly in his blue uniform, he moved through several train cars, towards the front. Leaving his thoughts with the glass, forgotten on the cushioned seat.

    He concentrated instead on the ringing of his boots on the train's metallic steps, and then on the impact as he stepped lightly onto the thick concrete ground. Now a part of the common Central population, jostling each other with no real malevolent intentions - merely trying to get to where they were going.

    A pity Asher wasn't sure where he wanted to go.

    {OOC - If anyone wants to meet now, TACKLEZ him outside the station, 'cause otherwise I'll hafta spawn a place for him to wander next post. Probably just back to Central HQ, but vatevah~}
  5. ((I get the sinking feeling that we more or less had the same thing in mind, the difference being mainly in the execution.))

    Cassie hummed softly to the tune that the perhaps misnamed "Singing Alchemist" was playing as she watched the scenery transmutate in her window from rustic farmland to urban pavement. Her humming stopped abruptly as a thought entered her head. She turned to Gale with a big smile on her face.

    "Hey, Gale!" she said with all the giggling excitement of a teenager. "I just got the greatest idea!"

    "Unless it involves me never seeing you again, I don't want to hear it," Gale replied flatly, not dropping the tune in the slightest.

    "No, really, listen!" Cassie insisted. "We should team up!"

    "I'm sure I'll regret asking this, but why?" Gale asked resignedly.

    "So I can sing for you!" Cassie answered gleefully. "That'd totally make up for my misconduct!"

    "I don't follow," Gale replied. "And I'm not sure I want to."

    "You're called the Singing Alchemist, right?" Cassie noted. "People naturally expect there to be singing, right? If you let me handle the singing, then nobody walks away feeling cheated!"

    "You sing?" Gale commented. Not so much in disbelief hopefulness in as much morbid curiosity which, at this point, was the only thing keeping her from blasting her out the window. She stopped playing and lay her guitar across her lap.

    "Like an angel!" Cassie answered. "Listen." She cleared her throat, centered herself, then held out a hand as if singing an operetta. "~I gave my love a chicken that had no bone...~"

    "I'm sure you did," Gale commented, rolling her eyes.

    "What's that supposed to mean?" Cassie asked.

    "You know what it means," Gale answered.

    "But that didn't make any sense at all!" Cassie protested. "Not in any context whatso...!"

    Cassie was interrupted as the train jerked to a stop. She instinctively steadied Gale by throwing an arm across her chest, then looked out the window.

    "Well, it looks like we're..." This time Cassie was interrupted by the hollow thump of a guitar hitting her face. "Ow! What was that for!?"

    "You 'Stop-Shorted' me!" Gale exclaimed accusingly. "You little... frotteur!"

    "I have no idea what you're talking about!" Cassie exclaimed defensively. "I literally have no idea what you just said!"

    "Then get your hand off my chest!" Gale demanded, hitting Cassie with her guitar again.

    "It's auto-mail!" Cassie whimpered as Gale whacked her again. "It locks up sometimes! I can't even feel anything through it! I swear!"

    At this point, Cassie grabbed Gale's guitar and pushed it away from her. In response, Gale shoved Cassie away from her. This provoked Cassie into shoving back with her mechanical arm, which erupted into a shoving match that quickly degenerated into a wussy-slap fight.

    "Ow, ow, ow!" Gale exclaimed. "Okay, truce! Truce!" The two stopped trying to feebly slap one another and Gale cradled her hand. "I need my fingers to play, and I can't go breaking them on your metal mitts."

    The two got up and gathered their carry-on luggage. As Cassie slung her pack over her back, she noticed a certain other girl with silvery highlights to her hair.

    "Hey, look, it's Aidelaide," Cassie whispered with a nudge to Gale. "The Quicksilver Alchemist."

    "Yeah, what about her?" Gale asked in a not-quite-so-hushed tone.

    "I hear she uses alchemy to control the air, too," Cassie whispered conspiratorially. "And she's got alchemy circles tattooed all over her body. Kinda cute, too, if you're into the whole moey thing." With another nudge she said, "You should totally fight her!"

    "What? Why?" Gale asked, taken aback.

    "So see who the better air alchemist is!" Cassie practically squeaked. "Your 'Power Ballades" vs. her... whatever she does! It'd be totally sweet!"

    "You read too many action novels," Gale scoffed, shaking her head. She quickly marched off the train, with Cassie close behind.

    "C'mon!" Cassie begged. "It'd be so awesome! We could sell tickets and everything!"

    "You both have auto-mail," Gale noted. "You fight her."

    "Me!?" Cassie exclaimed. "I can't fight an alchemist!"

    "It's not like they call you the 'Exploding Fist' for nothing," Gale remarked. "Maybe it's because your hand shatters to pieces whenever you throw a punch?"

    "Well, no, I..." Fortunately for Cassie, she was interrupted again.

    "Listen," Gale said, looking back at Cassie as she walked. "I don't like you, I don't want to like you, I don't want to sing with you, and I'm sure as Hell not going to fight for you."

    "But... but..." Cassie stammered. "Just give me a chance! I'm sured you'd like me if..."

    "You've had plenty of chances!" Gale said, marching faster. She looked back at Cassie again. "And you've blown every one of them! Now just get a away from me, you stupid d..."

    This time, Gale was interrupted as she plowed into someone right outside the station, knocking the both of them over. Cassie quickly ran to her side.

    "Oh, my God, are you alright?" Cassie asked, attempting to pull her to her feet. Gale shoved her away and stood up, rubbing her head.

    "I'm fine, geez," Gale replied sharply. Turning to the man she bowled over, she said, "I'm sorry, sir, I wasn't watching where I was going. Are you okay?"
  6. You guyz reply to faaaaaaast.

    I assure you, Gardie, Our Alchemists DO NOT have the same tactics. If I used only air, I'd be the Uses-Only-Air Alchemist. Does QuickSilver not imply I use some sort of Mercury in my Alchemy? :3 If not, Forgive me. Quicksilver -was- Slang for Mercury, the stuff that used to be in thermometers, one of two elements that comes naturally as a liquid on the periodic table, and it is metal. In my mind, it's always been the perfect balance between my two dominant elemental influences, Metal and Air. If you want some spoilers, I use 'air', yes, but I dabble in all realms of Alchemy, being a researcher, and I'll be tossing in some Lightning and some Metal as well.

    And PhiyahPhoxxel, When have I EVER Mary-Sued a character? ;_; I am insulted you would even suggest such a thing.

    I'm afraid I'm going to be the limiting reactant in this equasion. . . I promise I'll post, I just can't say how long it'll take me, I usually only get a chance once a day or so. ><

    NOW! Back to angsty mad Alchemists.

    Aidelaide leaned casually against a wall and flipped open her watch, her symbol of attainment of the title of State Alchemist. ( OCC: That sentance just borked my brain a little bit ) She hated being around people. She usually drew attention. She was glad there were so many State Alchemists around, it took the light off of her. She wondered if she should get a glove to cover her automail hand.Dye would never stick to her bleached hair, and she had yet to figure out why, but at least if she covered her hand she'd be less suspicious. She had put her goggles on as well upon leaving the train, and they hung loosely at her neck. She may have been unconventional, but she was a State Alchemist. They were bound to be odd.

    She actually took time to focus on the face, noting the time. She'd want to stop back in at her old workshop. She'd left it almost a year back when she wanted a chance to apply what she'd learned in the field, to watch its effectiveness. The old workshop had waited for her. She'd kept up rent over the last year, with her salary being what it was. She'd need the goggles if she were going back there. It was a den of danger and probably filthy with dust, besides. Aidelaide trotted docily out of the station. She'd get a chance to look over her old notes and do a bit of work on why she had gotten certain reactions in certain situations. The Thermite, for example. She posited. . .

    With a loud 'By The Gods!' She went down hard, tripping over someone sitting on the ground. She rolled into it and had her hand convieniently placed over the most useful of her tatoos when she realized that there wasn't any danger after all and let out a laugh of relief. She had tripped over a tangle of fellow state alchemists.

    Whoo, it's short. What a chance meeting :D
  7. ((Sorry, Moonie (mind if I call you Moonie?). I had, in fact, thought it was a bit odd for a student of air alchemy would be named after a heavy metal, but names aside I only remembered air being mentioned in your post and I assumed it was her most notable tactic.))

    "I'm on the ground again," Gale complained on the verge of wailing.

    "Here, lemme help you up," Cassie offered.

    "Back off, I said I'm fine," Gale spat back as she climbed back onto her feet.

    "Fine, I'm not talking to you anyway," Cassie crossed her arms indignantly.

    "Best news I heard all day," Gale remarked. She extended a hand to Aidelaide. "Wassyername again? Lemonade, right? Let me help you up."

    Similarly, Cassie made motions to assist Asher. "Here. You're the Fire Alchemist, right?"
  8. {OOC — Ohes noes! I get the feeling that if I don't hurry up and get a post down, I'm gunna get left behind. X.x}

    Thrown out of sorts by the sense of pure listlessness that engulfed him as he was swallowed by Central's shifting crowd, Asher wasn't really sure why he didn't react faster to a sudden impact from behind. One moment he was gazing fixedly at a large clock that shifted with every passing minute, deciding (or not deciding at all, but procrastinating) what to do with himself, and the next he was stumbling awkwardly on the large concrete platform.

    He hit the white stone smoothly, at least, rolling up into a crouch with one hand already wrapped around the spare ignition gloves he had tucked, almost as an afterthought, into his pant's pocket. His ghost-white hair started to fall in his eyes, but he was already visibly relaxing by then, and swept the strands back with the palm of his other hand. Onyx eyes blinked confusedly at the scene (or maybe it was scenes — plural) that unfurled after the collision, even as another military-clothed persona added to the pileup.

    Ash sighed with released tension as he allowed the fact that he was surrounded by friendly characters to sink in and get a hold over whatever obscene paranoia his numerous scuffles at the Ishval border had installed.

    "Ah…thank you…" he said politely when offered a hand by one of the young women who had accidentally created a disturbance that, quite frankly, was causing several onlookers to stop and observe the group of alchemists. "The title is ‘The Vulcan Alchemist', but it's all the same to me. I'm Asher, more importantly."

    The young man stood of his own, obligingly flashing the woman who had proffered her hand an appreciative smile and nod of his head. Almost awkwardly, he shoved the white glove clenched in his hand back into its pocket. He resisted the impulse to frown at the attention the collision had caused, resulting in a near-crowd congregation of citizens to stop and study the military personnel.

    As if Asher wasn't already discernable enough from his hair alone…

    "And you two must be…Aidelaide, the Quicksilver Alchemist, and Gale, the Singing Alchemist, correct?" he asked in a casual tone, adding a friendly, inquiring glance in the other girl's direction.

    Well, wasn't this better than hesitating to make a decision over where to head?

    No, he complained mentally, it isn't. Socializing may be required of State Alchemists, but that doesn't mean I enjoy it.
    #8 LaenVulpix, Sep 18, 2007
    Last edited by a moderator: Jul 27, 2014
  9. PhireFoxxel! Asher and Aidelaide would get along great, theyre both anti-social emo Alchemists! :B

    Aidelaide saved the trio of alchemists the trouble of squabbling over her by pulling herself up as they attempted to sort themselves out. She casually brushed herself off, put herself to rights, and put on her 'social' face.

    "The Quicksilver Alchemist, yes." She smiled urbanely and offered her Automail hand before wondering, belatedly, if it would be awkward. She really DID need to get a glove, perhaps a pair, she had seen what the flame alchemists could do with theirs . . .

    She had seen all three of these Alchemists before, but they had never spoken before. "A pleasure. It seems almost a twist of fate. . . funny we should meet here, like this." Her cloudy hazel eyes flashed briefly. Yes, fate. They had met for a reason. . . What else could it be? She felt a tingle of excitement, like action on the horizon. Something was going to happen soon, she could feel it.

    Toldja she was mad :D
  10. ((Actually, Cassie isn't an Alchemist, not that she doesn't have a trick or two up her own sleeve.))

    "Yeah, that's me," Gale said in response to Asher's comment. "For better or worse."

    "You're right, it's almost like destiny!" Cassie remarked. "Who could imagine the four of us converging on this one place!"

    "I dunno, the odds seem pretty good to me," Gale said, adjusting the strap on her guitar, currently slung over her shoulder. "This is the closest exit, and we were all on the same train, same car... probably the same unit. If anything, its a wonder we haven't met up before."

    "But we are now," Cassie pointed out. "That's what makes it destiny." She snapped her fingers. "We should all do something!"

    "See ya," Gale replied, immediately turning around to walk off. However, Cassie grabbed her.

    "C'mon!" Cassie urged. "It'll be fun!"

    "If by 'fun' you mean 'tense and uncomfortable,' I'm inclined to agree," Gale remarked.

    "Something cool's gonna happen, I just know it!" Cassie declared. "Look, give me an hour, and if something incredible doesn't happen, I'll be out of your hair forever."

    Gale glanced at the other Alchemists. She wondered what they thought about this.
  11. {OOC - Postingk time. Not sure how everything'll turn out, 'cause it's hard to stay in character and keep interacting. XDDD Silly antisocial characters. -kicks Asher-

    One minor detail - MSDL, "flame alchemists" isn't exactly a common term. Every State Alchemist tends to have a certain way of fighting, or type of alchemy that is unique to them, and that's how they get their title. So it'd be like me saying "all those quicksilver alchemists running around". Since Asher's supposed to be the only alchemist specializing in his type of alchemy (like Aidelaide and Gale with theirs), it's not a plural term.

    It might've just been a kind of...whatchacallit?...context error?...but I dunno if Wikipedia elaborated on State Alchemists too much, so I might's well mention it. =D



    Asher could almost sense his expression clouding as the one non-State Alchemist in the group proposed the possibility that some wayward fate had decided to knot them together. He blinked silently at the further suggestion that they remain together - because of that same warped sense of logic.

    "E-eh...?" he voiced weakly, shoulders slumping slightly.

    His dark black (if black can possibly be described as 'light' or 'dark') irises met with the dubbed Singing Alchemist's own, if partially covered by his feathery-white hair. Unless he was mistaken, they were the duo against flouncing around together expecting the gods to bestow upon them some vitally important occurrence simply for their cooperation. Certainly Aidelaide was chirping about fate and the like...although it was questionable whether she was merely musing over this to herself or proposing it to the others. Similarly, Gale's bright-eyed friend (a prime candidate for proving opposites attract) had her mind wedged firmly on that belief.

    Was it his own pessimism and skeptical attitude that told him he felt nothing besides a distinct lack of fate in this meeting? Partial weariness tugged at his body, and he wanted nothing more than to turn his back on this entire occasion, wade through the crowd of civilians, and immerse himself in alcohol. Strong alcohol too, regardless of his low tolerance level.

    Yet he suspected that this was going to end with his concession whether he was interested or not. He fingered the ornate design etched into his pocketwatch and symbol of his authority with the pad of one gloved finger, electing to remain of no opinion on the matter as a whole.

    He offered the group a polite, if dismissive, smile, and glanced up at the Central Station clock, positioned in the middle of a supporting pillar out of hand's reach even from the station's second level.

    The minute hand of the clock crept towards a Roman numeral depicting VI, while the shorter prong of the hour hand pointed resolutely at IV.

    Four-thirty, and it's mandatory for all State Alchemists to check in to HQ before the main offices close for the night, he sighed mentally, feeling nowhere close to his age.

    He suppressed a yawn and was, at the very least, grateful for the pleasant light filtering down on them from the glass-paneled ceiling, far out of reach. If the day had already taken on an overcast setting, he wasn't sure if he could have maintained an outwardly-friendly disposition.

    Fate and destiny...what fickle, fickle terms to be thrown around. And who were these people, acing like giddy teenagers on a summer holiday? For a moment Asher felt it difficult to comprehend that all of them had been taking part, up until a few hours ago, in one of many - innumerable, in fact - dangerous skirmishes between Amestris and Ishval. This sunny-faces girl and her begrudging companion could pass off as completely freespirited characters...and the Quicksilver Alchemist...he wasn't sure if she would pass off for perfectly normal even without the added weight of her title....so...

    Asher knew he looked as much the fool as any of them, but that did nothing but create a new suspicion, a wondering if any of them were actually displaying their true feelings to each other.

    Sure they are - because doesn't everyone smile while thinking about killing people...or remembering doing so? he pointed out to himself, and shifted once more in his layered uniform.
  12. Phirephoxxel, let me godmode for once! >< She was a RESEARCHER ALCHEMIST before she started being, like, whatever. ugh. i give up. I meant it not as a term but. . .as. . .like. . .a . . . general. . . thing for the alchemists with like, the fire. . .

    *Gives up*

    I phail at RPing. She's dabbled in everything and doubtlessly seen one or two alchemists use your methods. Or in this reality did Asher develop them? >> um, I guess I should have used 'Fire-using Alchemists'. And she doesn't know Cassie isn't an Alchemist, she was on a train with a butt load of alchemists, wasn't she? It's a logical assumption. Cassie can let her know. >>;

    Yeah I'm dumb. deal wif it. T^T

    Here's hoping the RP didn't die! >
  13. Gale sighed resignedly.

    "Fine," she said. "You have one hour. Then we have to report back to Central anyway."

    "Great," Cassie smiled as she took Gale's hand and started walking. "Let's go!"

    "I'm not holding your hand," Gale said, pulling her hand out of Cassie's as she followed. "So what, exactly, did you have in mind for this little sojourn, anyway?"

    "Um..." Cassie pondered. She was pretty much making this up as she went along. "Bowling?"

    "Bowling?" Gale repeated.

    "Bowling," Cassie confirmed.

    "Bowling," Gale noted incredulously.

    "Bowling," Cassie nodded. She then turned to Aidelaide. "Bowling?"

    ((Is there bowling in FMA-land?))
  14. {{OOC -

    I'm fairly certain that the world used in FMA is, like, an alternate reality of early Europe (like if you note the clothes/cars/phones/etc). And I think bowling WAS around by that time...only because it was first invented (I have no clue where I might've heard this) in, like, the 1600's. Then it was probably different from how bowling is now, but I assume it'd be close enough to modern-day bowling by the 1900's.


    -has no clue what she's talking about-}}


    Feeling the situation slipping out of his control, Asher stumbled awkwardly after the female alchemist. He had a sneaking suspicion the situation had never been in his control - not from the moment the first pair of girls had bowled him over on Central's gaudy platform. The uneasiness he could shield from his dark, coal eyes, but a resilient downturn of his mouth remained behind to reflect his confusion.

    "A...ah. If you insist." he muttered warily, struggling to regain his composure as the two women behind them began to retake the misplaced space in between themselves and himself and Aidelaide.

    Hair began to fall in his eyes, and it was at that point that Ash realized that the gloved hand gripping his own held none of the softer coutures of flesh. He would have originally attempted to tug his arm out of the other State Alchemist's firm grip, but he had no interest in failing to do so. He'd refrain from demeaning himself in the presence of his peers, please and thank you.

    Regardless, the white-haired young man straightened as best he could and clawed the wayward uncolored strands out of his vision with a dismissive gesture that came with habit. The sun was distinctly more solid as the quartet waded through the crowds (waded wasn't so much the appropriate verb as 'paraded' - no citizen that took notice of the silver chains dangling from three of their pockets were going to get in their path) and towards the entrance of the jostling station.

    With a wrenching emotion that was deep enough and strong enough to freeze his footsteps, Asher realized that he had been away from his birthplace for a little over a year, stationed in the wavering-hot deserts on the very outskirts of Ishval.

    His eyes widened slightly at the thought, but a second later he felt his center of gravity shift off balance as the non-human -

    Automail? he wondered for the briefest of moments...

    -hand pulled him unhesitatingly forward.

    They emerged to a day that was still bright with pleasant sunlight, the storm still a distance away from Central's beehive of activity. It might not even be headed for the densely-populated city, although Asher wasn't one to get his hopes up. Hell, he didn't even care whether it rained or not.

    If he had still been in Ishval, where rain indicated an increased probability that he would be entirely useless in battle, then it would've been a different story in all regards...

    Who am I kidding? He thought bitterly. I don't want it to rain.

    Buildings bloomed in the alchemists' vision like the first wave of spring flowers. Each was larger than the last in the background, with a homely assortment of smaller homesteads planted in the interim. Relief coated Asher's chest like a layer of warmth as his mind recognized each of the buildings in turn - nothing drastic had changed to his city while he was gone. That was good - it was a fear he hadn't known he possessed until it had abated.

    "..." Ash relied on the others to make conversation - small talk as it were - as they walked.

    He knew of maybe two bowling joints within a reasonable distance of Central's magnificent, towering station, but imposing his knowledge on others was not his strong point.

    It was something he'd have to get over, he supposed, but that didn't make it easy. Quite the opposite, in fact.
  15. As FF would say, 'fux'.

    My turn. You never give me anything to work with, FF -_- *complains*

    Yeah bowling's been around since cavemen were news. they played it in ancient egypt and greece or whatever.

    true story.

    ". . .Bowling?"

    Aidelaide wasn't very fond of bowling. Or at least, she hadn't been. She couldn't even recall the last time she had gone bowling. It was before she lost her hand, at the very least. A little over 3 years since that happened. . .

    "Yeah. Bowling." She nodded.

    She tried her best to drag from the murky depths of her mind to lacation of the nearest bowling. . .alley, was it? It was somewhere near the city's heart. . . wasn't it?

    She looked at the boy- young man? Man? She wasn't sure, he had the apearence of age, his eyes showed experience, but he had the temperment of a young boy. War did different things to different people.

    The light was harsh and glaring. The air was still. It meant the storm that hung far off would not stay far off for long. In the harsh light, Asher's hair had an odd look to it, as if it were almost translucent, shining in a way she didn't think was possible, even for white hair. He didn't notice her observing him. She turned her scientist's mind on him, approached him as a foreign new thing to be studied. She'd make observations, draw conclusions, experiement on a small scale before she considered herself to understand him. Then she'd move on to the bigger experiements. She'd start here. He was curious, he intrigued her.

    He didn't seem to be interested in talking. The two girls behind her were still chatting quietly, like small birds. And he didn't seem happy to be held, but Aidelaide wasn't sure what he'd do ifshe let him go. Stop walking, bolt, or continue at her side, she couldn't made inferences like that until she knew him better. Better safe then sorry, she'd learned that the hard way.

    Bowling. Funny how yesterday they were just fighting a war. Today they were bowling. Life was nothing if not absurd. She looked over her shoulder at the two girls.

    "Any idea of where we might go bowling?"

    Aidelaide's an absurdist!!! :O!
  16. Cassie put on a ponderous look. Then she perked up and dashed off with a, "Follow me!"

    "Great, now she's running," Gale grumbled.

    She hefted her guitar and her luggage and gave chase. They hustled for several blocks before Cassie came to a sudden halt with Gale nearly running into her. The blond soldier lifted her head, looking about as if trying to smell something on the wind. Then they were off again, charging down another street. And another. Then an alley, and another street.

    "You have no idea where you're going, do you?" Gale questioned.

    "Yeah," Cassie responded.

    "Yeah, you do, or yeah, you don't?" Gale inquired.

    "Maybe," Cassie replied.

    "What the Hell is that supposed to mean?" Gale demanded.

    "I know exactly where the bowling alley is," Cassie answered.

    "Well what's taking so long?" Gale asked.

    "I might be thinking of one in a different town," Cassie admitted.

    Gale stopped dead in her tracks. "Then where are we running to!?"

    Cassie stopped and turned around. "I dunno, but runnings fun, isn't it?"

    Gale glared daggers at Cassie.

    "Okay," Cassie relented, walking back to Gale. "But I know how we can get there."

    "How?" Gale inquired impatiently.

    Cassie stepped into the street. "Taxi!"
  17. {{ http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hansom_cab

    For clarification, the kind of cab seen in the FMA series. XD Yay for random cover-art pictures }}

    Unsurprised to hear that the blond-haired woman, despite having energy reserves to spare, hadn't the faintest idea where in Central she was leading the small, awkwardly joined quartet of militia personnel, Asher paused a decent three yards away from the two women not holding his arm like a child apt to sprint away at the first opportunity. His unobstructed hand reached up and combed back what wayward white hair had untucked itself from behind his ears; black eyes that reflected the mid-afternoon sunlight glanced to the dark-haired and contrastingly light-haired women's side. A rickety sign that seemed uncertain of its own quality hung several feet above a thick metal door, proclaiming that inside the confines of the brick building was a "BOW-I-- AL--Y" in great block letters.

    The building on the outside was as common and unnoticeable as any other block of space in Central - hardy bricks of deep red and dark brown broken occasionally by three small, industrious window. Presumably to air out the small business after heavy-smoking patrons. Another door with a more gaudy sign appealed more to Ash's finer tastes - whatever the hell the bar's name was, it was most definitely offering cheap alcohol. The half-tilted-mug shape of the sign suggested that.

    It was with a reasonable sigh to dispel his annoyances that the tall young man opened his mouth.

    "I...I'm not sure how much closer a taxicab can take you, misses." he commented, gesturing halfheartedly towards the cozy alley.

    So when things turn sour in there, I can just slip myself next door...unless it takes too long for things to make that transition...

    Asher tugged distractedly on his military-issue jacket, never liking the too-short design. He'd rather work in the common white long-sleeve beneath it...but organization was a thing of the military, he knew.

    Turning his inky gaze on the woman next to him, uninterested in her interest in him, he pointed somewhat more firmly towards his forearm with a serious, indifferent frown. "Honestly, even if you let me go now, the farthest I'd run is within eyesight, so..."

    He smiled vaguely and let his eyes flick towards the wooden, glass-shaped sign extending from the brick building on a metal rod. He trusted her to deduce the rest...she seemed the deducing type.

    A far-off grumble from behind them dragged the corners of his mouth down perhaps another millimeter lower before he caught himself and made a wholehearted, easily-read scowl. Better to not let her misinterpret (or correctly interpret, he wasn't sure which) his reasons for disliking the impeding storm.

    "I hate rain...imagine that." He commented coolly, not bothering to crane his neck in the direction of the still-distant thunderclouds.

    {-fails at dialogue so makes up for it with descriptions absolutely nobody will ever find useful - unless they want to reiterate the color bricks usually are-]
  18. ((Hm. Could've sworn I saw a horseless carriage or two. Then again, I suppose they'd belong mainly to the rich or the mechanically-inclined.))

    "Oh!" Cassie exclaimed. She turned to the cab driver and waved him off with a, "Never mind," before grabbing Gale by the guitar strap and leading her in.

    The inside of the bowling alley was about as plain as the outside. Like most any bowling alley, more than half the real estate of huge, open room that was most of the building was taken up by a wall full of lanes. The lanes were surprisingly modern, built around hidden machinery that automatically reset pins and retrieved balls. Gale hadn't been in a bowling alley since she could remember, so she wasn't particularly aware if such technology was available to the bowling community at large.

    Between them and the lanes was the lobby, taking up just as much room as the lanes, mainly consisting of cheap, wooden chairs and tables at which people could sit around and wait for a lane to be free (assuming one wasn't) and eat food that probably originated from the adjacent bar. Of course, there was also the office, shoe rental desk, and front desk. Soon enough, Cassie had gotten them a lane and led the way to the shoe rental.

    "We have to rent shoes?" Gale noted.

    "Not unless you happen to have a pair of bowling shoes on you," Cassie replied.

    "I don't want to wear rented shoes," Gale balked. "Who knows how many people have worn them!"

    "I'm sure they clean them after each use," Cassie said, before turning to the kid behind the desk. "Right?"

    "Uh... Yes?" the kid replied uncertainly.

    "See? Nothing to worry about," Cassie noted.

    "Why do we need to wear special shoes, anyway?" Gale demanded. "You barely use your feet in this game."

    "Uh... I just work here?" the kid replied.

    "Gale, don't ask questions like that out loud!" Cassie exclaimed, whispering horsely and clamping a hand over Gale's mouth. "They might hear you!"

    "They?" Gale asked, prying Cassie's hand off. "Who's they?"

    "The Bowling Commission," Cassie whispered. "They have eyes and ears everywhere, and people who ask too many questions have a tendency to... disappear..."

    "The Bowling Commission," Gale noted, "Doesn't want people questioning why they need special shoes to bowl."

    "Exactly," Cassie replied. "And if you're smart, you'll keep it to yourself."

    "So you're saying that there's some conspiracy to get people to wear rented shoes while bowling," Gale further noted.

    "Don't ask me how I know," Cassie said. "Let's just say I've lost too many friends to the 'Things Man was Not Meant to Know'."

    "You're kidding, right?" Gale said with a disturbed expression.

    "Of course I am!" Cassie replied with a sudden cheerful perkiness. "Bowling is in no way related to the Philosopher's Stone! Don't be ridiculous! Now get your shoes and bowl."

    Gale gave Cassie a wide-eyed stare as the blond marched almost roboticly to their lane. The Singing Alchemist just sighed inwardly and got herself some shoes.
  19. Sorry for the delay, life's been a bitch and I had no inspiration for this one.

    I'M A HEAVY METAL. *once again ponders Gad Guard spinoffs* FixeFox is an Ashlaide shipper! :x!

    Aidelaide looked down at the mans arm still firmly in her grasp. She wasn't exactly sure she had known she was still holding it, her automail might be wired to her nerves, but that didn't mean she could feel anything through it. She thought briefly of the circle etched lightly into it, one of three that adorned her body, and smiled lightly. Letting the alchemist go, she turned to look at the sky. The storm wasn't visible, but she heard a low growl of thunder echoing the first. She had briefly experimented with alchemy reminiscent of lightning, and she remembered the tingle of electricty over her skin, as she finished a transmutation and her circle filled with the brilliant violet crackle of lightning. . .

    "I'm not very fond of rain either," She commented, gazing up at the sky. "I do recall experimenting briefly with lightning and alchemy of the sort. I did research for the state before deciding to put my findings to the test in the field. Lightning is fascinating. Rain just slows everything I do down." She frowned, gesturing vaguely at the bowling alley. "Shall we?"

    He had said he wouldn't bolt, but she turned her gaze to him, waiting to see what he'd do.
  20. "Eh, no promise of a stone ere" said Zeek (yes i like names with z in them) "And i was just beginning to ave m'self some fun" He gave a dark grin to some gun wielding people coming towards him. They all immediatley began to run away. "well, now that thats done, i guess I should go look in cenral library for info on the philosophers stone...." He then pulled out his military registration sheet and looked at his code name: The Tera Alchemist
  21. StellarWind Elsydeon

    StellarWind Elsydeon Armblades Ascendant
    Staff Member Administrator

    This thread is so dead it's not even funny anymore. Warned, locked, check the frelling reply dates before posting.
    Leangrovyle111 likes this.
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