when it all began, atlas had responded to what had seemed to be a hostage situation. another man had been taken from the front lines, injured, frightened –– hell if he was about to let amestris do whatever it wanted with that man. he’d arrived to free the man & had been faced with a trap; in order to save that young man’s life, atlas traded himself ( he was the hero of creta; amestris could do nothing to him. he’d find a way out–– ). ❛ you won’t hurt me… ❜
❛ my brothers in arms are on the front lines dying–– you won’t hurt me, but what about them? you’re not an alchemist… but there is one & she made me into this, she took me away from the people who need me!! ❜ lightning crackled in the air, feathers the color of gold & ash fell to the floor before the cretan landed before the assistant. yes, the room was filled with a sense of despair, but no longer could he call it HUMAN. he was no longer human; they took him away from creta, his heroism turned him into something else–– oh, but he could not hate the man he saved, he’d find a way out no matter what.
human rage told him to lash out & animal instinct told him the young man before him was no threat. oh, human rage told him to tear this man to shreds, but birds always came to the hand of one who was calm & patient. silence fell for but a moment, a broken sound escaping the man–– he could not return to the front lines, he would never be able to save people as long as he was locked away like this!! ❛ they’ll die out there… you have to help me find a way out… that woman treats me like a PET–– i am not a pet, i am human!! ❜ i’m human, i’m human, i’m HUMAN–– but, he was not human anymore, not after this.
once again, he shuddered, his own reflection odd, the new body so much like his former one, but it wasn’t–– if he put a coat on, perhaps he’d feel as he did before. his gaze lingered on that reflection in the glass, a mirror to him, a window to the alchemists who turned him into whatever this was–– the man who looked back at him had his ash blond hair, his blue eyes. the man who stared back had his scars from the front lines, that look that made him a walking tragedy, a hero that people wanted, a hero they needed. if he ignored the pair of wings, he almost felt like creta’s hero–– if he pretended none of this happened, he could still say he was a proud cretan lieutenant named atlas. no, this was the death of a hero, atlas went to save another & he died because of amestris–– i’m still me, right? even in this body, i’m still me. he couldn’t ask such things, he couldn’t say something like that to a stranger, it was not his place to burden another with his worries & fears & self-doubt.
❛ you’re not like that woman… ❜ the thunder seemed to leave the air, no longer did he feel as if he was breathing in a storm, as if he breathed out destruction ( this young man won’t hurt me ). in the end, animal instinct won ( he was not an animal, not fully, but he was not the man who he was a week prior ) & he felt as if he had no need to fly away, not yet. ❛ is it really over? ❜
Lightning crashed through the air, strokes of it flickering close enough to Dolcetto’s face that it burned. Great, beautiful wings unfurled in a room made suddenly small. They threw gusts of motion through the air as the Cretan descended, sudden and wild. The downy tips of golden feathers brushed the tile, but Dolcetto didn’t flinch, didn’t react when the chimera lurched before him, fluid and clumsy at once, an awkward sort of grace. Dolcetto tugged on his sleeve cuffs, but he stared evenly up at that wild expression, all the while keeping his posture open, welcoming, all the while tucking fear and worry into that quiet place beneath his ribs he unpacked in his apartment at the end of the day to shelve the day’s sorrows accordingly. The man had strong, quiet features, the sort of face you expected from a leader, but sharper, the bone make up altered in the fusion to allow him lift, flight, and oh, how he towered above Dolcetto. Unnatural, yes, but beautiful. Exquisite, enchanting. It took the edge off Dol’s own instinctual fear of a predator looming above him, that lingering part of his genetic history where human met animal.
The lightning flickered, dissipated, the charge fading from the air. The new chimera’s wary eyes flicked away from Dolcetto’s, and he watched himself in the mirror. ( He was a predator, of course, in more ways than one; he was a soldier, a prisoner of war in a foreign land, a bird of prey, an unpredictable blend of human and animal, and that made him dangerous. ) Though Dol longed to say, shhh, don’t look there, he knew chimeras needed time, weeks, months, to come to terms with their new bodies. Dol wasn’t a protector, just a kind face. But a cracked sound broke from the man’s throat, and on instinct Dolcetto reached out to lay a firm hand on his arm, collision of human and beast, or maybe beast and tragedy, in that order. But there was no hesitation.
The boys in South City had teased him for that. You get to soft on them. You act like they’re not going to bite you.
They won’t, Dol had said, with absolute conviction.
“Yes. It’s over. The alchemy, the fusion – you’ll never have to go through that again. I’m gonna be right beside you through what comes. You, well, you haven’t seen the last of Doctor Locke, but I’m thinking PT. We have bigger spaces in this facility, since you’re on your feet; you could stretch, and– look, if you’re nervous about all those researchers staring through that window, there’s less surveillance.”
You have to help me find a way out. Dolcetto had no liberty to do anything of the sort, especially with a foreign soldier. But he had managed before, in West City; it was a small matter to brush files aside to leave a floor plan visible, or a shift schedule; to allude to potential obstacles the guise of complaints of an overbearing coworker. Sometimes this work threatened to tear him up, and the small comfort he offered wasn’t enough. What loyalty did he have to Amestris? Of course Amestris wouldn’t use their own alchemists, not with their military advantage, yet most chimeras were fallen soldiers.
“Listen, soldiers are dying on every side. Here, in Creta, Aerugo, up north, it’s all the same. Truth is, war’s war everywhere.” An undertone like the memory of anger crept through his voice. “But your country won Trawden, did you know that? Admittedly, it’s a small victory, but they’re pushing the border. It was a good move for a disadvantaged army, a border town with a large Amestrian outpost. Creta’s not doing half as bad as you think, so don’t worry so much. It won’t be forever.”
Once, Dolcetto had fought for Aerugo, had tripped explosives on Amestrian soldiers. Once, he had been a child insurgent. But like the children he had fought beside, he had accepted the Academy’s offer, and so had given himself up.
“What’s your name? Out there they’ve given you a subject number, but I’ll be honest with you: I’ve worked with chimeras for years, and I can promise you’re every bit as human as you were before. You can’t let this place steal your humanity.” Even the chimeras who couldn’t speak. Even the ones in too much pain to move, the ones with mangled bodies and botched biology. “And I’m so sorry. I really am.”
