Blood from a Stone
Henrika- This came from me hearing the phrase "you can't get blood from a stone" and me going "wait a minute, the muses are attacking!" And thus this fic came about. Still a bit short, but I'm happy with it. Enjoy and review!
There are ignorant people who say you can't get blood from a stone. These people have not heard of the Philosopher's Stone. They do not know what its creation required.
Edward Elric knew what the Philosopher's Stone was made of. He knew all too well what was required to create the stone because he had nearly done it himself. He had nearly touched his hands to a transmutation circle that would have pulled the souls of several prisoners into a prison smaller and more horrible than they ever could have imagined. He had nearly shed the blood that the stone craved for existence, but he had not. He had not been able to murder for his brother. He couldn't forge his brother's body from other's lives because it was not what either of them wanted. So he had searched naively for another way to create something that would bring about an end to equivalent exchange, though, if he would have looked he would have seen that the law was never really true in the first place.
Roy Mustang knew that blood could come from stones. He was also reasonably assured that the walls and floors and sky could bleed too because the days of Ishbal were awash with blood. He didn't realize at the time what the tiny Red Stone on his finger was made of. He knew that it made the screams from his victims all the louder and he knew that the ash raining down around him was red. He found out the truth of the stones and turned away from them, though he wasn't ever able to say why he let the Elric brothers search for it. Perhaps because he wanted them to find out the truth of the world on their own. He's never sure how cruel that was.
Alphonse Elric knows what the Philosopher's Stone is. He knows this because he is the Philosopher's Stone. He knows that his body contains the fallen souls of Ishbal and Lior. He doesn't have any blood in him, save his brother's, but he's very sure that he feels like he's bloodstained. He wonders why they ever sought such a horrible thing. He remembers his mother's smile. He remembers his brother's smile, before it became tinted with guilt and pain and regret. And he doesn't know what to do now. He knows that he can't use the stone. It would be wrong to sacrifice all these people just for his gain. He wonders why all these people have died while he is still alive. He wonders if they are really dead and if there is any way to bring them back. He knows he won't like the answer. He wonders why he hasn't died yet, because he knows he should have. He's had so many chances. He stares at the red glow inside his body and wonders if he will finally die when the Philosopher's Stone is all used up. He wonders because he is a philosopher.
And you can get blood from a stone. The only question is whether you have the tenacity and blind ambition to do so.
Henrika- Al's last line just popped in there. I couldn't help myself. I was actually giggling when I wrote that in because it was so obvious. Ah well.