(with envious eyes)
Things burned and knotted inside him like they'd done forever it seemed, a twisted serpent ripping piece by piece far away from him and so out of reach. He'd never known he could feel this kind of pain before.
People were passing by in their everyday, their every minute, living their same lives that they'd lived their entire existence. People with children and homes and nice things and somehow...a natural sort of beauty. He'd watched so many different kinds of people stumble down whatever their days path was. He watched them and noticed that all humans, however disgusting he felt he was supposed to find them, each had their own bit of grace. Different people and in so many different ways, from the overworked business man to the thrice child bearing mothers, they all had a world of things he felt cheated out of. A sort of dignity, that sort of grace that he could never acquire, no matter how many transformations.
Not that he was losing loyalty to his own cause, though even he'd admit it'd been slipping somewhat. Like some of his other brethren, he could only be the obedient child for so long, and his own opinions and thoughts were blurring heavily against the lines of all he'd been taught. It stung him. Existence stung, and somewhere shunned him. Why was he too heavy for this Earth all the time?
He'd never have any more family than half cooked lab rat monsters like himself and lunatic alchemists...never any more love than whatever they could give him, and in a way he had to wonder why, if they were supposed to be higher than humans on the evolutionary chain, they were named after those lowly human's faults.
His envious eyes sought out hungrily upon the street and he was tempted to burn and knot the same pain inside himself into every creature littering that street. All those humans with their grace and their emotions and their lives. He was tempted to destroy it all, but he'd learned a long time ago that just because he destroyed something it didn't make it a part of himself. If anything, it brought him further away from it. However, he had an itch inside whatever he called his mind that told him if he destroyed it all there'd be nothing to stare him down anymore, mockingly but silently torturing him with the awareness of all that he could never have and never be. He just wanted to wipe it out of his mind.
He'd lost compassion for his existence, and existences like himself. Not that he'd gained compassion for anything else. He envied the joy humans could find in absolutely nothing, and he hated that he knew the beauty that they saw, he had the knowledge of their thought. He'd taken so many forms in the boxed walls of the world he knew, and he'd been all those different types of humans, and he understood how it all went. He understood why they could let themselves get carried away with festival music, feet beating against the ground, as though trying to acquaint the pulsing of their veins with that of the pulsing sound waves echoed in those grounds, they could never get close enough. He could understand the passion they held for one another and how that could melt away any worries or past suffering if under the right conditions. Hell, he could relate to their poetic nonsense and their feeble day-to-day wars.
He understood, but he could not become. He was severely lacking in whatever grace that made them...undeniably what they were. It's not as though it was like it was with some of his foes, not as though every human would sacrifice themselves for some sort of greater good. There were cowards no matter where you went. That wasn't what he was missing.
He was boxed up inside such limited space, he couldn't stretch or feel because everywhere he looked there were millions of things people took for granted that he could never be or never have and his inability frustrated him. The walls of his box where clear, and he could see everything but couldn't reach it, let alone contain it. Evolution, it seemed to him, was to keep what you had and gain more, not trade in what you had for something supposedly better. And even though he wouldn't admit it out loud, he knew inside himself he'd rather be oblivious to everything so he could have everything.
With a snort he pushed his way through the crowd, his ugliness seeping into the artificial tendons in his feet and weighing him down. He could never enjoy the pulse of emotion or music or festivity. He could never really love or have a real family because he was made up of death and ugliness. He knew, that more than his brethren, he was a monster. He was the most monstrous of them all.
Monstrosity: the one thing he didn't think he'd envy if he hadn't already obtained it.
This world was sick.
Give the one with the most need to be beautiful all the ugliness.
He was sick.
But he still had work to do.
Well then. That was the first Envy fic I've ever written. It just came, haven't thought much about how existing for him would be. This is a cross of Manga and Anime, like all my FullMetal thoughts are. Envy's certainly interesting though. Too interesting in a way, to even want to think about at all.