#irefell

[scriptumigni]

‘ keep your eyes open. ’

INSTEAD OF finishing her off, they leave her with time. not a lot, but just enough. ( –or so she hopes. ) riza steadies a trembling hand over the fresh wound on her neck, blood warming her fingers, dyeing her jacket collar. she doesn’t think about the pain. doesn’t think about what’s going to happen to her. right now, all she can do is focus on him. he cannot perform the transmutation. and she will not be made the ‘weakness’ which casts him into the enemy’s hands. ( taken as a hostage-- facing her newfound paranoia of the shadows-- long ago she steeled herself for this possibility ) by failing to finish her off, they underestimate what a dying woman is capable of. because she still has the gall to smirk, to speak. i’m under strict orders not to die.

then she conserves her strength, grapples for her thoughts when they threaten to fade. every word, every glance from this moment on matters. it’s when they notice her stillness and wonder if she’s dead, when the colonel blanches with terror that she speaks again to reassure him. this time pleading with him. you don’t have to do this. her approach is countered quickly-- but you will do it, won’t you mustang?-- and she knows she doesn’t have the breath to argue with. thus she resorts to glaring at him, as strictly as she can manage when his expression wavers-- easing her gaze slowly, meaningfully to her gun. he looks away. she hopes he understands. 

riza clings to what remains of her consciousness as she waits for his decision. sweat crawls down her face. her vision blurs at the edges. she can hardly stay awake, stay alive-- but she needs to hear him say it. 

i won’t perform the transmutation. 

the relief she feels is immense. enough to bring about a sort of peace, even as she faces the possibility that she just might die here. knowing she can trust him to make the right decision, her hold reality slips, catapulting her towards a certain darkness she had been denying. 

riza’s vaugely aware of a fight that goes on without her. distant and faraway, despite the fact that it’s occurring right over her head... but she can pinpoint the colonel’s voice. just as she knows it’s his arms encircling her now, lending her warmth and the familiar, lingering scent of smoke. she knows it’s him-- all her instincts beg her to respond-- but she’s never felt so frail before. even opening her eyes is too much. 

❛ colonel... ❜ and suddenly, it gets easier. she sees him. ❛ –i’m so sorry. ❜  

@irefell

[scriptumigni]

‘ how are you holding up? ’

MANAGING A terse smile, her gaze falls momentarily upon the floor, to the shadows at her feet. she’s become conscious of them lately, the angles at which they fall on the floor, the way they seem to cover every inch of her apartment when she returns after a long day. riza never truly feared the dark, not even as a child– but these days, she tenses at the sight of her own shadow, whether it moves alongside her on the wall or stretches across the room. she’s seen what lurks in the shadows, knows she has something to be afraid of. if she steps out of line or provokes them… they could dispose of her at any moment. which isn’t saying much, really; she knows they’re planning on using her later. she had practically confirmed it for herself. and all she can do is silently steel herself, her drive towards their cause, and subvert whatever it is that they’re planning. behave the way they expect her to… until it’s time to change tactics.

the fact that they cannot speak to each other directly is frustrating. however, it hasn’t been impossible. not for them. each time they pass in the hall or in the dining room, a traded glance is all it takes for her to confirm to him that she hasn’t gone anywhere. that she’s still– always– with him, despite being kept elsewhere.

he knew something had happened… and she knew that he noticed. ever since her brief silence on the phone– showing up the next day with a paper thin cut across her cheek. ( however small an injury, it whispers a discreet threat for his ears alone ) and in the eyes in the shadows, that much likely seemed normal. ideal, even. evoking some fear and concern in their human adversaries. yet what pride doesn’t know is that in the process of a simple ‘chat’ over lunch, she had discreetly communicated the one thing the colonel absolutely needed to know. selim bradley is a homunculus.

since then, she can tell he’s been wanting to know more. and she’ll find a way to offer more information… in time. when they can be discreet.

riza shifts the stack of paperwork in her arms, glances at him knowingly. there is only so much they can say to each other in passing. even when they’re perceivably ‘alone’.

❛ —i’m fine, sir. ❜ tone strictly professional, she eventually replaces her thankful smile with a stern front, seeking normalcy in the slightest form to set her mind at ease. ❛ i certainly hope you haven’t been slacking off in my absence. ❜

@irefell

[kenosiis]

❝ YEAAAAAH, I DON’T usually go for the snarky, pseudo-womanizer types, bud. That’s my schtick, capiche? ❞