Private's Journal

Name: Alexandra                         Rivers Birthdate: August 3rd,    [YEAR REDACTED] Nationality:        [REDACTED] Soldier in the Amestrian Military. Alchemy nerd. Nothing out of the ordinary. [Indie FMA OC rp blog] [ Tracking:             privaterivers ]

[private-rivers]

What doesn’t kill you

                               only makes you

                                                       stronger.

[private-rivers]

What doesn’t kill you

                               only makes you

                                                       stronger.

[private-rivers]

What doesn’t kill you

                               only makes you

                                                       stronger.

[private-rivers]

What doesn’t kill you

                               only makes you

                                                       stronger.

[private-rivers]

What doesn’t kill you

                               only makes you

                                                       stronger.

[private-rivers]

What doesn’t kill you

                               only makes you

                                                       stronger.

[private-rivers]

What doesn’t kill you

                               only makes you

                                                       stronger.

[heartofautomail]

     ”Yes, Lance Corporal Rivers please?”

     ”What do you mean ‘she’s not in’?” SIGH. “Alright, could you pass on a message, please? —My name? Winry Rockbell. Yes. Please tell her— and make sure you quote me on this —if I don’t see her scrawny ass in my shop within the next 24 hours I will hunt her down and I will kill her and bury her in an unmarked grave under the tree outside my house.

     Of course I’m not being serious. Do you think if I was being serious I’d tell you where I’d bury her? Just— don’t tell her I’m not serious.

     Thank you.”

[private-rivers-archive]

     Miraculously, Alex got Winry's message just fine, down to the letter. It paid, she considered, to have an operator who was faithful to both message and intent -- even if it was delivered with a slightly worried gaze.

     Her reaction, naturally, was twofold.

     "Winry called?"

     "Oh. She's upset."

     But even if Alex had her reservations, she wasn't about to turn down a chance to see Winry again... not after this long. Even if her stomach turned anxiously, even if she took a couple minutes to go up to her dorm and scrawl down a last will and testament, and even if the walk to Winry's shop seemed so much longer than she remembered it... she wasn't about to turn down the chance.

     After all, she reasoned with herself during that unbearable long walk, and even while standing at the door... it wasn't like Winry had forgotten her.

     That was good, right?

     Alex's voice was barely above the level of a mouse's squeak -- half of it drowned out by the ring of the bell as she pushed the door open and peered in, a careful hand between her eyes and the very breakable glass.

     "Winry...?"

[private-rivers-archive]

Which is more important to Alex, duty or justice?

Being a Chaotic Good character, Alex naturally values justice far more than duty.

She can, however, be torn between the two, in cases where neglecting her duty for the sake of justice will cause her to lose her job.

As a soldier, Alex knows that her head must always be with her obligation to the state, and she cannot forget about where she stands — that is, always teetering on the edge of the poverty line. She knows that she cannot reasonably make sacrifices for the sake of being ‘good’ or ‘noble,’ and ignore the bad marks it may put on her record.

As it is, she is not sure where her moral horizon lies — she’s not sure how far she could be pushed to go, for the sake of saving her own skin from unemployment or worse. She is not even sure she will be able to tell, when she steps over that line.

With how the military is in these days, should another war break out, she knows that these concerns she has will be put to the test. As of now, they lie dormant, only going so far as trivial incidents — the balance between feeding a hungry kitten or being on-time for work, for instance.

Oftentimes, she tries not to think about it too hard. In some circumstances, it is much easier to just turn off, and let obligation take the reins.

It would take a significant event to shake her opinion of this matter.

One like the Promised Day, for instance.

[private-rivers-archive]

Soft mumbles echoed in a vacant room.

Shadows blended together in the open space, in the crooks under desks and over the stretches of carpet. The windows, with blinds drawn, gave no light, just more shadows, creeping through the cracks -- tree branches against the moon, clouds against the stars.

The only light was a small one: a desk lamp, like a tiny, slightly faded beacon -- a bulb at the end of its life, flickering with overuse. It shone on pages, scattered over a worn wooden surface, all crisp white paper and drying black ink in jagged handwriting.

It was overtime work, but it'd been sitting there for awhile now.

It was a pity, really; the inbox at the corner of the desk was almost empty. It was so close -- just a few more files, a couple more bland manila folders and that would have been it, but now it was yesterday's work, left to sit, quietly growing older and nearer to deadline in the mid-time between days.

The outgoing box threatened to tumble. The pages at the top would flutter now and then with the air that passed over them, paper wobbling all down one side as every exhale sent a breath up along the edge.

In the shadows, in the discomfort of a hard chair, oversized in juxtaposition with its occupant, slept a hard worker.

In the darkness, the blue uniform may as well have been black. Chocolate bangs covered a pale face, and slender hands remained tucked into clothing folds -- making the soldier little more than an irregularly bumpy shadow in an otherwise empty room.

Morning was looming closer with every tick of the clock on the wall. Morning, and new work hours. Only seven hours away... six hours... five....

In the meantime, the lamp ran out its bulb, light just barely stretching to the bottom of the door; the soldier's curled body developed its bruises and cramps, just barely remaining in its seat; and the mumbling voice wavered and grew in strength depending on the hour.

"Mmh... S'nice, in... innit...?

"Bein' home...."

[private-rivers-archive]

scars || private-rivers && heart-of-automail

[heartofautomail]

     ”The future?” Now she was from the future as well? While that was certainly a bit of a stretch on Winry’s already stretched willing suspension of disbelief, it certainly made a lot of Alex’s little comments about certain technologies in the time she’d known her make sense. It also made the odd way she spoke— odd words and slang Winry didn’t understand but disregarded for Alex’s sake —occasionally make sense as well.

     ”You being certifiable isn’t a new development—” The best way to deal with a situation you couldn’t fully comprehend was with humor, right? Truth be told she did it more for herself than for Alex but there was no denying they both probably needed it. “—and I’ve kept that a secret so far. I think I can manage keeping it secret a while longer.”

     ”On the condition you tell me about your crazy future technology.”

[private-rivers-archive]

Alex laughed, just a little, unsteadily.

"Yeah," she said, meeting Winry's soft smile with one of her own -- more relieved than anything else. She still shook, but... there was something in Winry's voice that at least made Alex feel safe enough to let go of her friend's hand, dropping her own hands to her sides and hooking her thumbs loosely in her pockets.

She was still shirtless, but she didn't feel that uncomfortable about it, suddenly. There was just something about the way Winry kept talking to her -- gently, but still as an equal. She spoke like they were still friends. Not like Alex was someone who needed pity, or needed help -- or, at least, not of the mental kind.

Alex still maybe needed a little emotional help, but for the moment, the humor in Winry's voice made things seem... actually kind of all right -- or like they might possibly be all right, after some time had passed.

"Well, uh. Phones get a lot smaller, in the future," Alex started, as she settled herself at the edge of the bed -- just sitting down, kicking her legs, and beginning to tell her little story. "Cordless, portable. Still need electricity, but the batteries hold the charge for awhile, so you don't have to keep them plugged in all the time...."

It felt like she had been keeping it in for an eternity -- and now, here was Winry, actually... actually indulging in her little slice of madness. Madness that was all too sane.

It was... freeing.

"Oh, and, uh, computers. Computers are cool...."

Maybe, she thought... maybe things would be all right.

Maybe she could trust Winry, if nobody else.

[private-rivers-archive]

scars || private-rivers && heart-of-automail

[heartofautomail]

If it was anything less than confusing, Winry would be lying to herself. She didn’t fully understand the whole ‘Gate’ thing— Ed had talked about it only once and all of it went completely over her head —but she did understand that it was like a door of sorts that connected two places and that she was from one of those places and Alex was from the other.

"You died." This is what she’d gotten out of the brunette’s ‘explanation’. "You died and came through some ‘Gate’ that brought you back?"

It sounded absolutely ridiculous and completely unbelievable when she said it out loud. How did Alex manage to make it sound so much more possible when she said it?

"It doesn’t sound real." It was no wonder she didn’t— or couldn’t —tell anyone.

"It’s going to take a while for me to try and make sense of any of it. I’m not going anywhere," she said again, a little rushed. She needed Alex to know that she meant when she said it wouldn’t change anything. "But this is just… a lot to process.”

[private-rivers-archive]

Alex's hands trembled around Winry's.

She knew it was a lot to take in, and she knew that if she were in Winry's place, she wouldn't believe her. She didn't know what to do with herself, being in the place that she was -- her place, with her secrets finally bared. She felt very cold, with her scars exposed; her eyes flicked to where she'd discarded her shirt, and she tried, tried desperately, not to look too much like a frightened rabbit.

Now that she didn't have to explain it, now that it was all out of her mouth, now that her words didn't have to be steady, she was beginning to lose her composure... just a little.

She laughed, softly, nervously.

"I, uh, I understand if you decide you don't believe me," she rushed out. "I mean, when you say it like that, yeah, it sounds ridiculous. I'm practically undead. And then when you add in the fact that I'm technically from the future--"

She didn't think she could have worked that fact in any more ham-handedly than she did, but she knew that if she didn't do it now, she never would.

"It's. It's crazy. So, uh, if you think I'm nuts, I get it. Just. Try to keep it secret, at least, all right?"

"I really need to keep my job, and being certifiable won't... it won't end well for me, you know?"

[private-rivers-archive]

From Alex Rivers to Winry Rockbell -- Dated May 21st, 1922

Dear Winry,

      So I finally figured out that diagram I told you about! It was actually really obvious and I'm sorry I kind of flipped out about it, wow. That one was more embarrassing than when I got stuck on page 40. You remember that? No, don't, it's humiliating.

      But! My newfound discovery doesn't really matter, because guess what!

      I'm coming home!

      Man I am so fucking excited you don't even know. I'm going to tell everybody about that liquid compound thing and the temperature stuff I told you about and don't even get me started on that absolute god damn wizardry from March, holy shit.

      I need to make friends with more state alchemists and just make a day of it, like, just give them all these formulas and the circles and stuff and just ask them to put it into practice for me. I've worked out so many great theories and I'm so excited.

      Um, I don't know if you want to see me, but, uh, once I get home, I'm going to call you. I'd just show up, but, uh. Last time I did that you threw a wrench (I think it was a wrench, it was going pretty fast) at me, and I know you missed on purpose, but I don't want you to miss missing, you know? So, uh. Yeah.

      Just a phone call.

      I hope you pick up!

Love,

      Alex

[private-rivers-archive]

From Alex Rivers to Winry Rockbell -- Dated February 14th, 1922

Dear Winry,

      Happy Valentines!

      I'm not really sure what to send you since I don''t want it to go bad in the mail, but, I think I'm going to get you some cookies. I'll see when I get down to town. It's not really the traditional Valentines treat, but, it's probably got a longer shelf life, so, hopefully it'll be all right.

      I'll admit I kind of forgot about Valentines entirely until like... yesterday. I've just got so much on my mind, haha.

      I'm sorry about that.

      So this is going to get to you late, but I hope you like the cookies or whatever treat I get you, if nothing else.

      I hope you don't feel too lonely on Valentines Day. I really did forget. Time just doesn't seem to flow right up here, you know?

      As far as I go, I'm doing just fine. Nothing out of the ordinary, just kind of hanging out up here, just me and all this snow! It's pretty cool, pun intended. Coffee's not bad. I got these little coffee biscuit things for myself and they're not awful either. Just something to munch on, y'know. I'd send you some so you know what I'm talking about, but they're really not that great!

      Yeah. Uh. Not much more to say, I guess. I'm going to start really pouring into my alchemy again, I think! Give me something to do, y'know, and I think the bookstore down in town has some really advanced books -- so I'll grab one and pick it apart. I can probably figure it out even if it's not exactly at my level, I mean, I've got plenty of time, right?

      I'll write you on my progress.

Still a nerd,

      Alex

[private-rivers-archive]

From Alex Rivers to Winry Rockbell -- Dated February 10th, 1922

Dear Winry,

      Sorry.

      There's not a lot for me to do up here except write, so. I'm gonna do that. It'll keep me from drawing transmutation circles all over the walls. I'm not going to be that person. I'm not going to go completely crazy up here.

      God why did I ever accept this assignment. Oh, right, because I didn't have a choice. But, fuck. My sanity was questionable before I came up here. Hah. We both know that, I'm sure. I'm sure you know I'm a little goofy.

      Look, Winry, I've got a lot of time, just sitting around up here, to think about me, and you, and the letters I write you. I've got too much time to think. When I'm not writing to you, or lighting up the fire, or making myself breakfast or doing any of those other little things that all together take up maybe seven hours of any given week, I'm thinking. I think about home 23/7, Winry.

      That's a lot of time to think.

      I guess I've got some books I could be reading, but I'm also supposed to be keeping lookout and stuff. Eyes on the horizon or whatever. I mean, I'd sleep all day, but I need to be at the ready.

      Last guy in my position got shot, Winry.

      I'm scared, and I'm lonely, and I'm sorry that it's always all about me, but I just...

      I don't care if you don't write back. I mean, I do, but. It's okay. I'm just going to keep writing to you, okay? You don't even have to open them.

      Have you been opening my letters before now? Are you even going to read this one?

      It doesn't matter, I guess. I'm just going to. Use your address. I'll write some nice happy letters and everything will be cool. I can pretend you read them all and are just so speechless (the happy kind of speechless) that you don't know what to say back. And that's cool.

      So, like, you don't even have to do anything.

      So.

      Sorry this letter's kind of a mess, but yeah, uh! I'm cool now. Everything's fine.

Love,

      Alex

[private-rivers-archive]

From Alex Rivers to Winry Rockbell -- Dated January 24th, 1922

Dear Winry,

      Are you mad at me?

      I haven't gotten any reply to my letters yet -- and maybe you didn't get that letter with the phone number yet, but, uh, I haven't gotten any phone messages, either. I mean. Maybe something got lost in the mail?

      I guess I'm just a little confused. It's not like you to give me the silent treatment. I mean. I kind of expected a really loud letter back, y'know, just, yelling at me and stuff so you can get it all out -- which is totally fine, I mean, you need to vent and I kinda deserve it for just up and disappearing all the time.

      But it kind of worries me that I haven't gotten anything at all.

      Look, I know this is really shitty for you. And I'm not exactly. Acknowledging it, I guess? I mean I thought it would be a good idea to just act like everything was normal and stuff, so we could both carry on and not get sad and stuff about not being together, but, maybe that was the wrong way to do it? Should I have apologized more?

      I mean, I thought about explaining the circumstances more -- because you have a right to know, of course! -- but like, loose lips sink ships, for one, and for two, I really just don't want you to worry.

      And now I'm grovelling, I guess.

      I just really want to hear from you. It's really lonely up here, and you know you're my best friend. One of my only friends. Certainly the only one I'm comfortable writing to like this.

      You're the only one I think would actually care about getting a letter from me. Or. Thought would actually care? Fuck, that sounds like I'm accusing you. This is turning into a real mess.

      I'm too social to be kept locked up at the edge of the country like this. It's so fucking barren out here. Just snow, and snow, and more fucking snow.

      Please, please don't be mad at me.

      Or if you are, just... tell me, please? Tell me how to fix it and I swear I will try my best. I mean maybe you're thinking it would be better for you to let me go or maybe I don't know maybe Ed's giving you more attention now or something I don't know just

      Write me back, all right? Let me know what the deal is, just, at the very least.

Still Yours,

      Alex

[private-rivers-archive]

[[ laughs i can't count there's actually six letters ]]