Welcome to Ryslig's test drive meme! If you're considering apping here, this is where you can try your characters out in the game's setting. A few things to note:
You can only app ONE character per round so choose wisely.
We now have a Quick Game Facts that simplifies the basic information about the game. Good if you want to see what the game is at a glance!
Lots of people have asked good questions on the FAQ, so do take a look.
The reserve date has been announced (it was changed to the 30th to allow a maximum number of people compared to a Friday).
Test drive meme threads can be used for your roleplay sample!
NEW! Players with characters already in the game can earn up to a maximum of 3 coins by replying to potential character threads! You will need to have your normal 20 comment AC in the game. You cannot use this to go over the bonus 10 coins per month total, but you can use it if you are missing some threads to reach that coin total. Same rules as normal bonuses apply.
Sample scenarios:
SCENARIO ONE: So you've just arrived, fresh out of the hospital, and already the natives are trying to get on your good side. Offers of food, shelter and other luxuries in return for hoping you don't eat them. They even have some helpful pamphlets to share with you. "How To Deal With Changes", "Alternatives to Human Flesh", "What to Expect When You're Expecting (to turn into a monster)" are all great pamphlets. There's even some detailing certain monsters, and the changes they go through.
Among these however, are some... not so helpful ones. "Bunnyipyips And You", "Axe Thief Axehounds," and "So you're becoming a Fur Bearing Trout" among others.
SCENARIO TWO: You've become hopelessly lost in Lager Woods. Paths don't seem to lead where you remember them leading, and you feel as if you're going around in circles. Childlike giggling can be heard from no direction in particular. Suddenly, you stumble upon another character, who seems to be just as lost as you! Perhaps you can find a way out together. Or maybe they want you for lunch...
SCENARIO THREE: You've heard about the fog, but you've never seen it before. Now, the mist surrounds you. Barely able to see before you, you need to get home - and fast. It's far too dangerous in this situation.
SCENARIO FOUR: The time has come and you've found yourself becoming a monster. Is the change instant, or gradual? Are you familiar enough with monsters to know what's happening, or is it a complete shock? NOTE: Feel free to pick any monster type for this prompt, but note that you may not get the same one in game.
That's not what I meant! I mean, thanks for the help, but--!
[AGGRESSIVE GESTURING AT YOU, SIR. He can see them shifting a little bit over his shoulder, and there's no denying the fact that it's suddenly become colder once he showed up.]
And--what was that about the Nest? [It probably wasn't anything at all similar, but Ed couldn't help but wonder.]
[Stocke nearly (almost) looks over his own shoulder in confusion to see what Ed's pointing at. That's what this place does to you, shadowy tentacle-limbs are completely natural and expected body parts.]
[But Ed's new, that's the whole point, so the shade blinks and reorients himself.] ...have the natives told you anything about monsters?
[He passes off the question with a short,] My place of employment. [It's not exactly accurate, the 'Nest is more than that now, but it's not wrong either - and Stocke doesn't see why it's important.]
[Shadowy tentacles can kindly go and shove it, Edward wants nothing to do with that bullshit thank-you-very-much.]
They've been shoving ridiculous pamphlets in my face, if that's what you mean.
[Oddly enough, that's exactly the sort of cagey response he'd expect out of one of Greed's own. He frowns and, with a certain amount of trepidation, steps closer to the strange man to hopefully keep too many from overhearing.] What sort of employment?
...they're not all entirely inaccurate. [Just, you know, mostly.]
[But that isn't what Ed originally asked - Stocke waves his tendrils out to his sides again, lightly. Flat -] These are just for show. I didn't need to do anything. [Besides scaring the native away by mentioning a certain hive of scum and villainy, but... close enough?]
[The way Ed keeps pressing on that last point has the shade raise his eyebrows, just a little.] It's a bar. [And, as additional explanation for the theoretical room Ed was supposed to have - maybe that's what he's fixated on? -] Some of us live there. [None of that's really a secret, if you ask around town.]
[That...really isn't the sort of news Ed wants to hear. And given the source, it's hard to tell the guy he must be mistaken, not if he's been transformed as he implied. But if people are being transformed somehow, that leaves a whole slew of other questions to answer.]
How is this happening? It can't be just from whatever tore us up before we woke here, that makes no sense.
[Ed breath catches for a moment. There's...there's no way. Everyone from that bar was dead and gone; he had the blood of Greed himself on his own hands for Christ's sake. But it was far too similar for Ed to ignore...and besides, he was going to need employment at some point anyway. Better to go someplace that was apparently friendly to the newcomers.] Would you take me there?
[It's time for the Cliffnotes version again, then.] There's a being here known as the 'fog god' that claims the credit. It certainly has enough power to cause mass hallucinations, and the fog on this peninsula influences many of us to become even more monstrous. [Basically, Stocke's more than convinced.]
[He'd go on the mention the fourth god, maybe, only - that little catch of breath? He noticed that, suspicious as he already was. The shade's eyes narrow, looking less eyes than thin lines. The last time someone was this interested in the Nest... and this is a newcomer. If it weren't for the gasp, Stocke might've assumed Ed just wanted a place to stay, but...]
[It hardly hurts to ask. And Stocke's confident enough he'd be able to spot a lie, when the newcomer's already had one tell. Instead of an answer - ] ...do you know someone by the name of Greed?
[There's no lies to be found in Ed's shocked expression, nor the way he has to swallow down a lump in his throat. If he doesn't wake up after this, he is going to have some fucking strong words with fate about all this.]
I...y-yeah, I did. He's here? Alive?
[Homunculii shouldn't be able to be brought back in any form. They were already on the borderline between the living and dead, not quite one or the other. It didn't make any sense, but what reason would this man have to lie?]
[Don't worry, Ed will have plenty to say about that 'fog god' business later. He's just a little distracted at the moment.]
Alive as the rest of us. [Damn, boss, what is it with you and having friends from home show up? Or... not-friends, potentially.]
[Stocke's tendrils flick tensely as he evaluates; but whatever else may be said, monsters have an advantage over the as-yet untransformed, and most of the Nestlings are fighters. However Ed knows Greed, it shouldn't be a problem. (At least he's being honest.)]
[A quick decision.] I can lead you there. No promises he'll be around - might have to wait if you want to see him. [The shade turns, the mass of tendrils on his back suddenly obvious, and glances over his shoulder before moving off, slipping through shadows - you coming?]
[If Ed's got any more questions, he can always ask on the way.]
[...why did you have to phrase it that way, Stocke? He's gonna start thinking this is some weird fucked-up purgatory at this rate.]
[Ed nods and follows behind him--not too close, if only because those tendrils still creep him the hell out, but he's not about to lose his new companion around a corner or anything.] That's fine. I'm...honestly not sure if he'd want to see me again at this point.
[But that's treading a little too close to sensitive subjects now, and there's still other things to address.] So this 'fog god', is it just doing all this to fuck around with us? Or is it trying to use the people it's transformed for something?
[Well, Stocke technically doesn't know it isn't...]
[The shade casts a sharp look behind him, about to ask further, but that can wait a few seconds.] ...it's competing. There's more than one claimant to the title of god here, and one of the others is fighting over the peninsula with it. They can't interfere with each other directly. ['So it's trying to use us instead.']
[Now. With that vague summary, and the implication that he's not going to go into any more detail until Ed responds in turn -] Care to explain what you meant?
[Ah, shit. Why is it he always lets his mouth run like that? Ed winces and grimaces, looking somewhat guilty.]
It's just the last time I saw him we were fighting. It...got pretty bad. I don't hold anything against him now, but I have no idea how he feels about me.
[He glances back up at Stocke with a wry sort of smirk.] And I'm sure that doesn't sound suspicious in the least, but I promise I'm not looking to start trouble.
hey psst would you be interested in Ryslig's Greed joining in on this thread?
[Stocke meets Ed's eyes, trying to judge the amount of truth in them. Whatever it is he sees, it seems to satisfy him - or maybe he's just still convinced that there's not much Ed could do against a whole posse of monsters. Either way, he gives a short, sharp nod and turns down an alleyway, pausing in case Ed needs to catch up.] This way.
[(It'll be up to Greed to decide whether to be interested or angry.)]
[They're obviously getting closer; this part of town doesn't look quite as neat and cleaned up as that of the hospital, even if neither seemed especially wealthy. There's marks of scuffles and scorched walls that no one's put in effort to repair - leftovers of the Rotan mobs, a few weeks before. More interestingly, there's rings of salt or as-of-yet unlit candles around some doors or lines across windows. Stocke skirts around them, respecting borders, though he doesn't seem to have a problem crossing one broken circle of a house obviously recently abandoned - the entrance ripped apart and inside charred, already looted.]
[It's probably an accurate assessment that Edward is not any real threat to the Nest. He might have a history of going toe-to-toe with 'monsters', but that was before two years of poor living and depression had taken a toll on his body. He's not weak by any means, but the reflexes and strength he had before have diminished, and he's without his alchemy to back him up here in Ryslig. If Greed were really pissed, Ed would be a smear on the wall in very short order.]
[He casts Stocke a grateful look before they continue on, paying attention to their surroundings and path as they wind further into the less savory districts. He's not too surprised by the disrepair, but the scorch marks attract looks of confusion and some concern. When they pass the rings of salt he snorts in distain--as if those sorts of old superstitions would ever protect anyone!]
[As they get closer, though, Ed can feel a lump of worry and nerves settling in his chest. What was he thinking, asking to be taken to the guy he'd murdered and called a monster, accused of crimes he'd never committed? Greed may have walked into that fight knowing he was going to die, but he surely must still hate Ed for treating him the way he did. And what changes had this place wrought on the man, already twisted by alchemy and man's hubris as he was? He was regretting this more and more with every moment, but he couldn't turn away now.]
o7 i'm linking this so greed tag should be incoming in a bit!
[The Devil's Nest itself isn't so active this early in the evening; Stocke steps carefully around a patch of late, setting sunlight in the street, glimmering through a gap between two buildings. The front of the bar also hasn't survived the Rotan mob unscathed, but it at least looks like it's undergone some patchwork repair - worried natives making amends? Ones swapping protection for their work? The efforts of those in the Nest themselves? No way to tell.]
[The shade pulls open the door, sidles inside - it glows softly red within, something that's obviously going to be far more striking once night falls solid. There's a short pause before he calls out a,] Boss. I've got a newcomer who says he knows you, [- though not especially loud, still at speaking volume. Apparently a certain someone is around.]
[Then the door's pushed open the rest of the way, Stocke leaning against it, leaving the way inside gaping open. He watches Ed, one tendril beckoning lightly towards the former alchemist.]
[The fallout from the Rota incident is still fresh on most minds. As towns start to rebuild and settle back into some sort of normality. Vandare isn't an exception and on the south side, the grim reminders still scorch and scar. In claw marks dragged deep into brick, in soot that cakes in an oily pitch. The 'Nest itself isn't without its own battle bruises - the entrance is completely refitted, one or two windows still need some replacing. One remains broken still, its jagged glass giving a look like gnarled, splintered teeth.]
[Inside, it's still quiet. But it's also business as usual. A few lingering cast a look up at Stocke when the door slides open, the glance quick at first. As if they're waiting for something else, as if history has taught them that an open door is something more to fear. However, that fear subsides - a relief washes in. Stocke's a familiar face around here and that's more than enough to put some an ease.]
[For a moment or two, there's no answer. Only the soft tolling of glasses, the lazy rush of a tap. A smokey film drifts dreamily at the ceiling; as old tobacco and new find themselves interlaced in an intricate pattern of silvery-blue.]
[Then the boiler belches, a fire ignites, and a rolling baritone hisses from above. The staircase out back protests and shakes. Each step hitting sounding off like a gunshot.] Oh-? [Greed's voice hums through, his words tuning in a trill. As he coils and clips down the spiral staircase, the signature swoop of his boots showing before he has a chance to.]
[There are a few that know him - from Dublith, from after. He takes his time, waiting out the seconds in a slow-moving trawl that's entirely him. An easy kind of demeanor that's slippery at best. Both hands are shoved into his pockets once he hits the bottom floor and a wash of wicked color follows him; like a candle burning in the dark, the light spews out across the floor in a sooty haze. Greed lifts his head, showing off his wide-toothed grin.] Word has it there's a few new ones in town - it's not impossible.
[The two sets of horns protruding from his skull have somewhat healed in the aftermath following Rota. The one set on the left side of his forehead is a little smaller than the rest, the new links and chunks fresh - it isn't as blackened as the other three. Greed doesn't pay it much mind, though. Everything aside, they lucked out a bit better than most.]
[He pauses near the side entrance to the bar, his heel snapping back against the wood. In his movement, those shades of his glimmer. The muted-red glow from beneath peels at the frames - causing the color to race across silver and chrome.] So - what do you have for me, hmn?
[Edward's eyes flicker around and take in the gouge marks, the too-new door and window frames. It's too much to be any normal occurrance, he can tell that much. Something had happened recently, whether against just Greed or to all of the transformed. Somehow he has a feeling it's more of the former--he can't imagine the local populace would put up with monsters lurking around in their midst without something breaking.]
[He hides a grimace at the gesturing tendril (he knows it's hardly Stocke's fault, but cripes), and steps into the bar cautiously. He only ever saw the original Devil's Nest once, but this place is similar enough to ring with familiarity in his mind. The clientele certainly brings a shock (is that a spider-person over there?!), but his attention is drawn quickly to those ringing steps, the too-familiar boots that lead the descend of the homunculus into view.]
[Edward's eyes go wide as he takes in the changes, both physical and less-than-so. Good fucking god, is the man on fire? And the horns, wings and tail; it's almost too surreal, seeing Greed so very different and yet...still oddly himself. He doesn't miss the healing damage, another piece of that puzzle of recent events, but for now he sets that fact aside. Catching up on just what went down here still might well not even happen, once Greed realizes who it is that's come calling.]
You really are here!
[He strides several steps further into the bar before he stops short, his expression a mix of guilt and relief. What should he even say right now? 'I'm sorry I killed you?' 'It sucks you're some demonic-type freak, but at least you're alive again?' Is there anything he could say, after what happened?]
[Stocke is totally doing it on purpose and you know it or rather, the shade's used enough his monstrous appearance, to this peninsula, that he takes it for granted. Being around Greed's hardly helped in that regard; if there were ever a person to encourage others to embrace their transformations, it was the demon.]
[As soon as Edward's far enough inside, the shade pulls away from the door (practically glides), letting it slide shut behind them. It closes with a final-sounding click, as if it's far too late to leave now; Stocke himself doesn't move far, choosing to lean against the wall beside it. His arms cross, one leg bending over the other braced on the floor; the sheath of the blade at his side taps against the wall softly, once.]
[There's something in the shade's demeanor - subtle, with no particular single change that can be pointed out, but he's far more relaxed inside the 'Nest than he was without. It only gets more pronounced as the demon trails down the stairs. Whatever the reason, he trusts Greed.]
[And when the demon asks his question - 'What do you have for me?' - Stocke's quick enough to answer. He tilts his head in Ed's direction.] Pulled a native off him. He wanted to see the Nest once he heard the name.
[By this time Ed's already spilling out his exclamation; the shade's eyes flicker white in not-quite surprise, and he settles into silence to listen and watch. If there is trouble, it's obvious he'll be taking Greed's side; but he's not interested in blocking the door unless the demon gives him a signal.]
A native, huh? That all the trouble you ran into? [While that Cheshire-cat grin holds fast, there's no denying the slight undertone to his words. A bit biting, a little too hot. But it subsides as soon as it comes, the rush of blackening smoke slipping through the tips of his teeth in thick, charcoal ribbons. Greed slouches forward and his hand hangs loosely at his side. As his nails gingerly scraping against one another, bringing a spark or two.]
[But the calm doesn't last very long and a familiar voice shoots out from the dark. One of the women out back lifts her head, the various eyes embedded in her forehead opening at once. Like black pearls, they glean with the Sin's constant heat. She blinks them once, running her fingers along the side of her hair. It isn't a threat, least not at the moment. So she ignores it.]
Ah-?
[Greed perks up, his stance similar to a disturbed vulture. A comical kind of frown drags on his face and his eyebrows slide up from his sunglasses. Rippling his forehead until the thin, rectangular notches of scales stops them completely. He hasn't seen Edward Elric since that last day - since he pulled his final card, leaving the rest to finish off what he started. Of course then, he had been wearing a different face: a borrowed one. The Sin slides out one foot after the other, slicing over the tips of his boots in a slow-moving saunter.]
[He looks different than the former homunculus remembers. Missing something - that red of his that's such a part of him, Greed could hardly forget. A smile cracks up one half of his jaw, those teeth of his glinting in a serrated motion.] Oh-? It's been a while. [The baritone of his voice purrs thick in his throat; as Greed coils and twists, the proverbial predator on the prowl. At his backside, the long length of his tail drags and weaves. Making the decorated arrangements skip along side the uneven floor.]
Good work, bringing him here. [The Sin waves absently at Stocke, a gesture to signal that any further action isn't necessary. Least not here, not yet.] And you could say we know each other. Though it was a bit different the last time.
[A wave of relief washes over Edward, and he lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. The lines of tension in his shoulders ease, and though the guilt doesn't quite leave it's packed away for the moment. Those old issues aren't something he wants to voice with an audience around, and if Greed isn't going to raise a fuss about old wounds there's no point in bringing them up.]
I'd call that the understatement of the damn century.
[Something about Greed's reactions twig something in the back of Ed's mind, little discrepancies that mean something but he can't place to what. He hadn't known Greed for terribly long--the man had a force of personality, but he could still count on one hand the amount of times they'd ever spoken. It was possible that Ed had misjudged Greed's capacity to hold a grudge (or give a shit in general), but for the moment his guilt from the past and nerves about his current situation keep him from thinking too hard on the subject.]
[Ed glances back to Stocke for a moment, checking his reaction to all this, before making his way through the bar over to Greed. He steps over tails and wing-tips, dodges around the patrons with horns and protrusions with faint apologies. A small part of him wonders if this really in inevitable for him as well, what sorts of changes will be inflicted on him. But now he's close enough to Greed he can lower his voice to a more reasonable level, and the sin can see some of the more subtle changes from the Edward he knew. Older, obviously, but in more than just physical age. There's something very tired about Ed underneath his exterior of bravado, a flicker to the flames that burned so brightly behind his eyes before.]
How long have you been here? How are you even alive now?
[Right into the questions, of course, now that Greed hasn't bit his face off or sent him packing right out the door. There's too many mysteries unanswered hanging in the air for Edward to not latch onto a few of them, try and work out just what kind of situation he's landed into. He doesn't much appreciate being shunted into another world all over again; at least last time it had been because of something he chose himself. He's going to find answers, discover a way out of this.]
[And maybe find out what dangers are lying in wait as well. Ed casts a pointed glance at Greed's horn, raising an eyebrow.] Still getting into trouble, too, I see. [Not an accusation, but a sideways expression of worry. What happened, are you alright?]
[Age isn't something he's ever had to worry about. Even in Ryslig, where his usual tricks of the trade have been all but stripped down to the very bone, that much hasn't changed. But Greed's been around a long time; in Amestris, here. The tell-tale signs of burnout are easy enough to pick up on. Even as the tenseness rinses from Ed's shoulders, the former homunculus' eyebrows knit together - throwing lines to his forehead once more.]
[He shouldn't look like that if it all played out right. But he'll get to that later.] Been that long, huh? [Greed says, almost aloft. This close up, some of the fingerprints of his struggle a week before become more noticeable. There's angry rings around his wrist, thick and bulging in scabbed-over scales. Another set peers out from the cuff-neck of his collar, the obvious sign of something hard and metal rubbing against his exposed flesh. It gives the depiction of a choke vice; something to keep him pinned down and out of the way.]
[Greed doesn't mention anything, however.] I've been here a few months now. [September, October. He's never had a need to count the days and he certainly isn't about to start now. The Sin's spine slouches, sending him half-sagging over the pointed jut of his hips.] And that's a good question, but like I've always said -
[His voice simmers in his throat, a new coaxing fire shooting fingers of burnt-orange through the thick, black coating under his chin. They breath with life; with a too-hot heat radiating from deep, deep down. His own proverbial pit.] - there's no such thing as no such thing. Being here is proof of that.
[Still, he watches the Alchemist with a cool expression. Edward Elric has never been a subtle character. Bull-headed and running just as red as his signature color. But now, there's something new. Something different. Something wrong. Greed takes it as a sign and he waves to Stocke, cocking his wrist off with a two finger salute.] Gotta take care of this. Man the bar, hmn? [Whether or not Stocke acknowledges, the Sin has no doubts that the order will be taken care of. The Shade's been nothing short of a right-hand man, an asset worth any trouble.]
[He turns around in a shallow swoop, the angle of his wings following in tow. They open just a tick, shedding plumes of ash that frame in a dreary halo.] Gunna guess you want to do this privately - that right? [Though, the Sin doesn't wait for an answer. Instead, he slithers back into the dark recesses. Moving toward the very same iron-clad staircase from whence he came.]
[It's up to the Alchemist whether or not he cares to follow. But Greed doesn't have many doubts about that either.]
[His eyes linger for a moment over the signs of damage, a frown tugging at his lips. The slow healing points to a loss of Greed's homunculus abilities, but why would that be the case? The implication, that Greed had been brought back human before these changes occurred, is one that makes Ed very nervous. He himself is the only truly successful human transmutation he knows of, and that had been 'luck' of circumstance and sheer bull-headed determination. That more than anything made him willing to believe the power of these 'gods', meant that finding a way out of this would take every bit of his stubborn will.]
[Ed lets out a small snort of laughter at Greed's response, shaking his head. It certainly has been a while, hasn't it?] It's been two years since that night for me. A lot has happened since then. [His whole life turned upside down because of one selfish woman that feared death too much, but it's not like he's bitter or anything.]
[Somehow he isn't surprised at Greed's relaxed attitude toward his fate, but...well, he can hardly blame him. Being turned into some kind of monster would hardly be a change of pace for a homunculus, and being given an extra chance at life while he's at it? Probably seems like a dream from that perspective.] And proof I've got a hell of a lot of digging to do if I want to figure this all out.
[He nods at the suggestion, and as Greed retreats back up the stairs Ed follows suit, pausing only to shoot a glance and grateful wave to Stocke before the pair vanish up the stairs. They both have questions that need answers, that much is obvious, and Ed's starting to get an inkling that some of those are ones that neither of them are anticipating. Better to work out just what they're missing where they don't have to worry about eavesdroppers. Even if this isn't home, Ed doesn't exactly feel comfortable chatting about his past where anyone could hear.]
Two years, huh? [And still, not exactly the answer he had been looking for. Another change of a detail: it had been the middle of the day when everything had gone south. When he had made a decision - the first and only lie he ever told in his two hundred years of living. The last curtain call. Greed takes the spiral stairs in a slow stride, the tip of his tail banging softly against the cast-iron rods. The structure is shaky at best; each step quaking with small clumps of dust that float up. Like disturbed moths at the cusp of dawn.]
[No, what Ed has to say points in a different direction. One he's had the misfortune of meeting before: something else, a story not quite right. It doesn't show on his face, not at first - that stead-fast smile gleaming with a sulfur expression. Yellows and reds hum against the backside of his teeth, giving his wicked set a sheen.]
[When he reaches the second floor, it's obvious they still aren't alone. Doors line the corridor and while most of them are shut from intrusion, some are open still. Spilling slivers of milky light out in jagged, sharp cuts. Some occupants flick a glance as they pass, an obvious ease taking their shoulders when they see the demon in question.] Not really much different than before - some things really don't change.
[It's the end of the hallway where Greed stops. The door there is singed, the framed blackened despite some obviously-new handy work. There's more locks bolted across the wood this time around, their fresh copper glowing against Greed's radiating heat. He flips a few with his knuckle rather casually, only pausing when he finally reaches the doorknob. The Sin's slick-black hand disappears into a pocket and something jingles heavily inside. A moment later produces a ring of keys and they hang loosely from a curve of a claw.] No, I'm sure you've got a lot on your mind. But first thing's first -
[One key slides into the lock and Greed twists his wrist. Angry flakes of skin peel away in the haphazard jerk, causing old scabs to open just a tad. The Sin ignores them, however. His attentions far more concerned with present company.]
[And how much he knows, how much is different.]
[The room in question doesn't leave much to the imagination and it's all too clear that he's had company recently. Who or what has been there, that's harder to tell. Fresh claw marks hover over the head of the bed, the wallpaper peeled back and flapping. The furnace lodged into a corner huffs upon is arrival; causing the fire inside to plume and spit against the barred-mouth grate. Greed slips in, leaving the door open for the Alchemist to follow.]
[A fresh tumbler of scotch rests open on a nightstand, its glass stopper resting horizontally beside. Half the contents are gone by now and Greed's fingers wrap around the neck of it. Making the tips of his talons shiver across the surface, tuning it to a hum. He's not about to waste time - he's never been the sort.]
What do you remember, exactly? [And it's straight to business.]
[He doesn't have much to say as Greed leads the way back to his room, past the doors both open and closed leading to others' personal sanctums. He tries not to peer in curiously to those they pass, but a few glances are stolen despite himself. Feathers and extra eyes, and a sense of tension that is impossible to miss. It puts a grim line to Ed's mouth, concerned and worried both for himself and the other poor souls dragged into this world. Greed's commentary on the changes (or rather, the lack thereof) brings a huff of laughter out of Edward--he couldn't imagine the sin being comfortable anywhere other than a place like this. Despite the shady nature of the Nest, even an outsider like him could feel the sense of community here, a safe place carved out of the rough edges of society.]
[Another concerned frown is cast at that flaking wound, but there's no vocal comment. Instead he simply nods and steps inside on Greed's invitation before taking a glance around the room. The claw marks above the bed bring a brief, pink tinge to Edward's cheeks before he averts his eyes, bringing his focus back onto Greed. His eyes spark with a hint of interest when he spies the scotch, but there's more important things to address first. The question, and especially the phrasing just confirm what he's started to suspect. There's a disconnect between their histories, though one much more subtle than has happened before.]
What I remember? [Ed leans against the wall, sighing as he does. How much detail would he need to give? Where did the change in history lie between them? For now he starts with what was most recent; as they exchanged more, the full story could be told.] Well, last I saw you was when you'd gone back to Dante's mansion, and I found you there and her old body nearly cut in half. I assumed what seemed obvious, got pissed, and we fought. I didn't know she had started to seal you before I'd showed up, and you explained how to do it after I landed the killing blow. [His guilt and grief resurface for a moment before he shoves it back again, too stubborn and scared to really address it.] ...I hadn't expected you to fucking die like that.
[A deep breath before Edward cocks his head slightly, raising an eyebrow to Greed.] But I'm guessing that's not what happened for you, right? Something's different here.
[A familiar problem, one he's been living with quite intimately for the past two years. Even before he'd found Alfons studying with Oberth, he would too often catch sight of a familiar face that didn't really belong to his memories. People he'd met in passing, those he'd lost...seeing Hughes again had nearly stopped his heart where he stood. But then it had only been faces that had remained the same--they hadn't remembered him, or known anything of Amestris or his long string of adventures.]
[Out of the thick dark, Greed's tail wafts into view. It cuts a sharp line in its lofty sway and the metal arrangements clasped against the thick chord steal from the lighting. Washing the silver pieces in bright a sheen of neon reds and hell fire. His nail slips easily into the open mouth of the canter, skittering on the inside to draw a line or two. He moves with a sense of easy; like oil slowly circling the drain. One heel skates over the other in a practiced motion, sending hard-knocking thumps rattling through the floorboards. All the while, the furnace keeps a steady smolder between the beats - spraying sizzling snaps and crackles as old wood slowly roasts on a dying flame.]
[But as soon as the Alchemist begins his story, everything seems to slam on the brakes.]
[Greed suddenly stills, the claw inside catching in a high-pitched trill. His shoulders stiffen, his tail jerks to a stop. As if suddenly, all the cogs weren't working - all the gears had locked up tight. It lasts for a while and the foggy noise from the bar below meets the quiet's call; drifting muted conversation through the slit floorboards.]
[Then his head snaps back, his bones crunch. And an erupting laughter cracks through the lull.]
[It lasts for a while, that boom. Enough to rattle the canter in hand and fresh fire churns in his throat. Sending a cough of blackened smoke to meet the ceiling in a filthy, sooty overhang. When he finally tappers off, a few fresh-caught embers spark off his tongue.] Ha - ! No, you've got it all wrong. You never killed me. [The Sin finds his footing again, cutting an uneven line across the room. The canter finds a home on a table closer to the bed and he relieves himself of it with haphazard abandon.] And I don't know anyone named Dante.
[The tip of his tail slithers across the floor between their conversation, the barbed edge easing behind the handle. A jerk of his hip sends the door wide open and the fire inside is angry, yet warm. Far too hot, yet oddly inviting. Greed tilts his head to the side and his sunglasses boil with the afterglow. In an orange-pitch that's a little closer to gold than anything else.]
[But what Ed has to say leads to one thing for both parties: a suspicion confirmed. Their stories don't match, their histories are different. It isn't the first time he's experienced the discrepancies, but those had been mild. Small little details lost for whatever reason. This? Oh, this is just so much more.]
[And for avarice incarnate, well.] I'm going to guess the name Ling doesn't ring a bell either, does it? [With his back Ed, Greed traces the side of his drink. While it might not be seen, it's far easier to hear: that slick grin, poised tooth for tooth in a deadly set. He raps his knuckle once again the side of the glass, humming.] No, it's not. Good ol'Daddy sir - and you're not the first I've run across with a different story. Seems to me you and I have a lot to talk about, don't we?
[He doesn't even ask, nor does he imply that he'll have it any other way. A force to be reckoned with, though Greed doesn't have any ill intentions. Instead, two glasses appear from a drawer. Slipped up and clipped together by the brims. He sloshes a healthy serving in one, topping off the next with a little less. Then the canter's gone and he finally turns to face the other.] First thing's first -
[He holds out one glass for the other, his grin wide. Whether or not the gesture is sincere, it's hard to tell.]
[Ed's breath catches in his throat when Greed freezes, the both of them caught if a momentary tableau. It's hard to not be nervous, considering what he'd just admitted to; Greed would be well within reason to distrust Edward right then and there, no matter what his relationship with the Ed of his home had been like. Hell, he might even chase him back out, or worse--Ed isn't sure he'd be able to get out of this bar unscathed if Greed made the call.]
[But Greed bursts out in fiery laughter and he sighs in relief with a faint chuckle. Maybe an odd thing to take comfort in, given the sin's (disturbingly appropriate) demonic appearance; someone else might have been intimidated by a display like this, but Ed has seen far worse demons that wore a kinder face. No, Greed isn't someone he needs to fear. Not right now, at least.]
[The explanations of the differences--those bring a faint frown, though one born of confusion rather than upset. If Dante wasn't still around, did that mean the homunculii were truly acting on their own devices? Or had someone else stepped in to fill those shoes?]
[He shrugs the heavy overcoat off as the boiler spills even more heat into the room. Obviously this must be comfortable for Greed, but a mere human is likely to sweat through his shirt if he keeps that warm layer on in here.] I can't say I've ever met a Ling before. Who are they? [They must be a friend for Greed to have brought them up. Someone that worked with and helped them both, maybe? And that second part, about 'Good ol'Daddy'...that's rather worrying.] Wait, you're not talking about Hohenheim, are you?
[Ed doesn't protest the unspoken insistence of information; he's just as eager to know where the differences lie, what that might mean. He steps away from the wall and over to Greed, accepting the glass with a grin and nod.] Who's the other person you met, though? Someone I might know?
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graveyardsmash2015-05-23 05:28 pm
the best at first impressions
[AGGRESSIVE GESTURING AT YOU, SIR. He can see them shifting a little bit over his shoulder, and there's no denying the fact that it's suddenly become colder once he showed up.]
And--what was that about the Nest? [It probably wasn't anything at all similar, but Ed couldn't help but wonder.]
I promise he gets better (maybe)
[But Ed's new, that's the whole point, so the shade blinks and reorients himself.] ...have the natives told you anything about monsters?
[He passes off the question with a short,] My place of employment. [It's not exactly accurate, the 'Nest is more than that now, but it's not wrong either - and Stocke doesn't see why it's important.]
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They've been shoving ridiculous pamphlets in my face, if that's what you mean.
[Oddly enough, that's exactly the sort of cagey response he'd expect out of one of Greed's own. He frowns and, with a certain amount of trepidation, steps closer to the strange man to hopefully keep too many from overhearing.] What sort of employment?
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[But that isn't what Ed originally asked - Stocke waves his tendrils out to his sides again, lightly. Flat -] These are just for show. I didn't need to do anything. [Besides scaring the native away by mentioning a certain hive of scum and villainy, but... close enough?]
[The way Ed keeps pressing on that last point has the shade raise his eyebrows, just a little.] It's a bar. [And, as additional explanation for the theoretical room Ed was supposed to have - maybe that's what he's fixated on? -] Some of us live there. [None of that's really a secret, if you ask around town.]
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How is this happening? It can't be just from whatever tore us up before we woke here, that makes no sense.
[Ed breath catches for a moment. There's...there's no way. Everyone from that bar was dead and gone; he had the blood of Greed himself on his own hands for Christ's sake. But it was far too similar for Ed to ignore...and besides, he was going to need employment at some point anyway. Better to go someplace that was apparently friendly to the newcomers.] Would you take me there?
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[He'd go on the mention the fourth god, maybe, only - that little catch of breath? He noticed that, suspicious as he already was. The shade's eyes narrow, looking less eyes than thin lines. The last time someone was this interested in the Nest... and this is a newcomer. If it weren't for the gasp, Stocke might've assumed Ed just wanted a place to stay, but...]
[It hardly hurts to ask. And Stocke's confident enough he'd be able to spot a lie, when the newcomer's already had one tell. Instead of an answer - ] ...do you know someone by the name of Greed?
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I...y-yeah, I did. He's here? Alive?
[Homunculii shouldn't be able to be brought back in any form. They were already on the borderline between the living and dead, not quite one or the other. It didn't make any sense, but what reason would this man have to lie?]
[Don't worry, Ed will have plenty to say about that 'fog god' business later. He's just a little distracted at the moment.]
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[Stocke's tendrils flick tensely as he evaluates; but whatever else may be said, monsters have an advantage over the as-yet untransformed, and most of the Nestlings are fighters. However Ed knows Greed, it shouldn't be a problem. (At least he's being honest.)]
[A quick decision.] I can lead you there. No promises he'll be around - might have to wait if you want to see him. [The shade turns, the mass of tendrils on his back suddenly obvious, and glances over his shoulder before moving off, slipping through shadows - you coming?]
[If Ed's got any more questions, he can always ask on the way.]
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[Ed nods and follows behind him--not too close, if only because those tendrils still creep him the hell out, but he's not about to lose his new companion around a corner or anything.] That's fine. I'm...honestly not sure if he'd want to see me again at this point.
[But that's treading a little too close to sensitive subjects now, and there's still other things to address.] So this 'fog god', is it just doing all this to fuck around with us? Or is it trying to use the people it's transformed for something?
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[The shade casts a sharp look behind him, about to ask further, but that can wait a few seconds.] ...it's competing. There's more than one claimant to the title of god here, and one of the others is fighting over the peninsula with it. They can't interfere with each other directly. ['So it's trying to use us instead.']
[Now. With that vague summary, and the implication that he's not going to go into any more detail until Ed responds in turn -] Care to explain what you meant?
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It's just the last time I saw him we were fighting. It...got pretty bad. I don't hold anything against him now, but I have no idea how he feels about me.
[He glances back up at Stocke with a wry sort of smirk.] And I'm sure that doesn't sound suspicious in the least, but I promise I'm not looking to start trouble.
hey psst would you be interested in Ryslig's Greed joining in on this thread?
[(It'll be up to Greed to decide whether to be interested or angry.)]
[They're obviously getting closer; this part of town doesn't look quite as neat and cleaned up as that of the hospital, even if neither seemed especially wealthy. There's marks of scuffles and scorched walls that no one's put in effort to repair - leftovers of the Rotan mobs, a few weeks before. More interestingly, there's rings of salt or as-of-yet unlit candles around some doors or lines across windows. Stocke skirts around them, respecting borders, though he doesn't seem to have a problem crossing one broken circle of a house obviously recently abandoned - the entrance ripped apart and inside charred, already looted.]
absolutely!! so much glee rn
[He casts Stocke a grateful look before they continue on, paying attention to their surroundings and path as they wind further into the less savory districts. He's not too surprised by the disrepair, but the scorch marks attract looks of confusion and some concern. When they pass the rings of salt he snorts in distain--as if those sorts of old superstitions would ever protect anyone!]
[As they get closer, though, Ed can feel a lump of worry and nerves settling in his chest. What was he thinking, asking to be taken to the guy he'd murdered and called a monster, accused of crimes he'd never committed? Greed may have walked into that fight knowing he was going to die, but he surely must still hate Ed for treating him the way he did. And what changes had this place wrought on the man, already twisted by alchemy and man's hubris as he was? He was regretting this more and more with every moment, but he couldn't turn away now.]
o7 i'm linking this so greed tag should be incoming in a bit!
[The shade pulls open the door, sidles inside - it glows softly red within, something that's obviously going to be far more striking once night falls solid. There's a short pause before he calls out a,] Boss. I've got a newcomer who says he knows you, [- though not especially loud, still at speaking volume. Apparently a certain someone is around.]
[Then the door's pushed open the rest of the way, Stocke leaning against it, leaving the way inside gaping open. He watches Ed, one tendril beckoning lightly towards the former alchemist.]
[Come on in.]
and the incoming disaster
[Inside, it's still quiet. But it's also business as usual. A few lingering cast a look up at Stocke when the door slides open, the glance quick at first. As if they're waiting for something else, as if history has taught them that an open door is something more to fear. However, that fear subsides - a relief washes in. Stocke's a familiar face around here and that's more than enough to put some an ease.]
[For a moment or two, there's no answer. Only the soft tolling of glasses, the lazy rush of a tap. A smokey film drifts dreamily at the ceiling; as old tobacco and new find themselves interlaced in an intricate pattern of silvery-blue.]
[Then the boiler belches, a fire ignites, and a rolling baritone hisses from above. The staircase out back protests and shakes. Each step hitting sounding off like a gunshot.] Oh-? [Greed's voice hums through, his words tuning in a trill. As he coils and clips down the spiral staircase, the signature swoop of his boots showing before he has a chance to.]
[There are a few that know him - from Dublith, from after. He takes his time, waiting out the seconds in a slow-moving trawl that's entirely him. An easy kind of demeanor that's slippery at best. Both hands are shoved into his pockets once he hits the bottom floor and a wash of wicked color follows him; like a candle burning in the dark, the light spews out across the floor in a sooty haze. Greed lifts his head, showing off his wide-toothed grin.] Word has it there's a few new ones in town - it's not impossible.
[The two sets of horns protruding from his skull have somewhat healed in the aftermath following Rota. The one set on the left side of his forehead is a little smaller than the rest, the new links and chunks fresh - it isn't as blackened as the other three. Greed doesn't pay it much mind, though. Everything aside, they lucked out a bit better than most.]
[He pauses near the side entrance to the bar, his heel snapping back against the wood. In his movement, those shades of his glimmer. The muted-red glow from beneath peels at the frames - causing the color to race across silver and chrome.] So - what do you have for me, hmn?
let me know if I messed up any details!
[He hides a grimace at the gesturing tendril (he knows it's hardly Stocke's fault, but cripes), and steps into the bar cautiously. He only ever saw the original Devil's Nest once, but this place is similar enough to ring with familiarity in his mind. The clientele certainly brings a shock (is that a spider-person over there?!), but his attention is drawn quickly to those ringing steps, the too-familiar boots that lead the descend of the homunculus into view.]
[Edward's eyes go wide as he takes in the changes, both physical and less-than-so. Good fucking god, is the man on fire? And the horns, wings and tail; it's almost too surreal, seeing Greed so very different and yet...still oddly himself. He doesn't miss the healing damage, another piece of that puzzle of recent events, but for now he sets that fact aside. Catching up on just what went down here still might well not even happen, once Greed realizes who it is that's come calling.]
You really are here!
[He strides several steps further into the bar before he stops short, his expression a mix of guilt and relief. What should he even say right now? 'I'm sorry I killed you?' 'It sucks you're some demonic-type freak, but at least you're alive again?' Is there anything he could say, after what happened?]
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Stocke is totally doing it on purpose and you know itor rather, the shade's used enough his monstrous appearance, to this peninsula, that he takes it for granted. Being around Greed's hardly helped in that regard; if there were ever a person to encourage others to embrace their transformations, it was the demon.][As soon as Edward's far enough inside, the shade pulls away from the door (practically glides), letting it slide shut behind them. It closes with a final-sounding click, as if it's far too late to leave now; Stocke himself doesn't move far, choosing to lean against the wall beside it. His arms cross, one leg bending over the other braced on the floor; the sheath of the blade at his side taps against the wall softly, once.]
[There's something in the shade's demeanor - subtle, with no particular single change that can be pointed out, but he's far more relaxed inside the 'Nest than he was without. It only gets more pronounced as the demon trails down the stairs. Whatever the reason, he trusts Greed.]
[And when the demon asks his question - 'What do you have for me?' - Stocke's quick enough to answer. He tilts his head in Ed's direction.] Pulled a native off him. He wanted to see the Nest once he heard the name.
[By this time Ed's already spilling out his exclamation; the shade's eyes flicker white in not-quite surprise, and he settles into silence to listen and watch. If there is trouble, it's obvious he'll be taking Greed's side; but he's not interested in blocking the door unless the demon gives him a signal.]
you're good no sweat!
[But the calm doesn't last very long and a familiar voice shoots out from the dark. One of the women out back lifts her head, the various eyes embedded in her forehead opening at once. Like black pearls, they glean with the Sin's constant heat. She blinks them once, running her fingers along the side of her hair. It isn't a threat, least not at the moment. So she ignores it.]
Ah-?
[Greed perks up, his stance similar to a disturbed vulture. A comical kind of frown drags on his face and his eyebrows slide up from his sunglasses. Rippling his forehead until the thin, rectangular notches of scales stops them completely. He hasn't seen Edward Elric since that last day - since he pulled his final card, leaving the rest to finish off what he started. Of course then, he had been wearing a different face: a borrowed one. The Sin slides out one foot after the other, slicing over the tips of his boots in a slow-moving saunter.]
[He looks different than the former homunculus remembers. Missing something - that red of his that's such a part of him, Greed could hardly forget. A smile cracks up one half of his jaw, those teeth of his glinting in a serrated motion.] Oh-? It's been a while. [The baritone of his voice purrs thick in his throat; as Greed coils and twists, the proverbial predator on the prowl. At his backside, the long length of his tail drags and weaves. Making the decorated arrangements skip along side the uneven floor.]
Good work, bringing him here. [The Sin waves absently at Stocke, a gesture to signal that any further action isn't necessary. Least not here, not yet.] And you could say we know each other. Though it was a bit different the last time.
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I'd call that the understatement of the damn century.
[Something about Greed's reactions twig something in the back of Ed's mind, little discrepancies that mean something but he can't place to what. He hadn't known Greed for terribly long--the man had a force of personality, but he could still count on one hand the amount of times they'd ever spoken. It was possible that Ed had misjudged Greed's capacity to hold a grudge (or give a shit in general), but for the moment his guilt from the past and nerves about his current situation keep him from thinking too hard on the subject.]
[Ed glances back to Stocke for a moment, checking his reaction to all this, before making his way through the bar over to Greed. He steps over tails and wing-tips, dodges around the patrons with horns and protrusions with faint apologies. A small part of him wonders if this really in inevitable for him as well, what sorts of changes will be inflicted on him. But now he's close enough to Greed he can lower his voice to a more reasonable level, and the sin can see some of the more subtle changes from the Edward he knew. Older, obviously, but in more than just physical age. There's something very tired about Ed underneath his exterior of bravado, a flicker to the flames that burned so brightly behind his eyes before.]
How long have you been here? How are you even alive now?
[Right into the questions, of course, now that Greed hasn't bit his face off or sent him packing right out the door. There's too many mysteries unanswered hanging in the air for Edward to not latch onto a few of them, try and work out just what kind of situation he's landed into. He doesn't much appreciate being shunted into another world all over again; at least last time it had been because of something he chose himself. He's going to find answers, discover a way out of this.]
[And maybe find out what dangers are lying in wait as well. Ed casts a pointed glance at Greed's horn, raising an eyebrow.] Still getting into trouble, too, I see. [Not an accusation, but a sideways expression of worry. What happened, are you alright?]
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[He shouldn't look like that if it all played out right. But he'll get to that later.] Been that long, huh? [Greed says, almost aloft. This close up, some of the fingerprints of his struggle a week before become more noticeable. There's angry rings around his wrist, thick and bulging in scabbed-over scales. Another set peers out from the cuff-neck of his collar, the obvious sign of something hard and metal rubbing against his exposed flesh. It gives the depiction of a choke vice; something to keep him pinned down and out of the way.]
[Greed doesn't mention anything, however.] I've been here a few months now. [September, October. He's never had a need to count the days and he certainly isn't about to start now. The Sin's spine slouches, sending him half-sagging over the pointed jut of his hips.] And that's a good question, but like I've always said -
[His voice simmers in his throat, a new coaxing fire shooting fingers of burnt-orange through the thick, black coating under his chin. They breath with life; with a too-hot heat radiating from deep, deep down. His own proverbial pit.] - there's no such thing as no such thing. Being here is proof of that.
[Still, he watches the Alchemist with a cool expression. Edward Elric has never been a subtle character. Bull-headed and running just as red as his signature color. But now, there's something new. Something different. Something wrong. Greed takes it as a sign and he waves to Stocke, cocking his wrist off with a two finger salute.] Gotta take care of this. Man the bar, hmn? [Whether or not Stocke acknowledges, the Sin has no doubts that the order will be taken care of. The Shade's been nothing short of a right-hand man, an asset worth any trouble.]
[He turns around in a shallow swoop, the angle of his wings following in tow. They open just a tick, shedding plumes of ash that frame in a dreary halo.] Gunna guess you want to do this privately - that right? [Though, the Sin doesn't wait for an answer. Instead, he slithers back into the dark recesses. Moving toward the very same iron-clad staircase from whence he came.]
[It's up to the Alchemist whether or not he cares to follow. But Greed doesn't have many doubts about that either.]
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[Ed lets out a small snort of laughter at Greed's response, shaking his head. It certainly has been a while, hasn't it?] It's been two years since that night for me. A lot has happened since then. [His whole life turned upside down because of one selfish woman that feared death too much, but it's not like he's bitter or anything.]
[Somehow he isn't surprised at Greed's relaxed attitude toward his fate, but...well, he can hardly blame him. Being turned into some kind of monster would hardly be a change of pace for a homunculus, and being given an extra chance at life while he's at it? Probably seems like a dream from that perspective.] And proof I've got a hell of a lot of digging to do if I want to figure this all out.
[He nods at the suggestion, and as Greed retreats back up the stairs Ed follows suit, pausing only to shoot a glance and grateful wave to Stocke before the pair vanish up the stairs. They both have questions that need answers, that much is obvious, and Ed's starting to get an inkling that some of those are ones that neither of them are anticipating. Better to work out just what they're missing where they don't have to worry about eavesdroppers. Even if this isn't home, Ed doesn't exactly feel comfortable chatting about his past where anyone could hear.]
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[No, what Ed has to say points in a different direction. One he's had the misfortune of meeting before: something else, a story not quite right. It doesn't show on his face, not at first - that stead-fast smile gleaming with a sulfur expression. Yellows and reds hum against the backside of his teeth, giving his wicked set a sheen.]
[When he reaches the second floor, it's obvious they still aren't alone. Doors line the corridor and while most of them are shut from intrusion, some are open still. Spilling slivers of milky light out in jagged, sharp cuts. Some occupants flick a glance as they pass, an obvious ease taking their shoulders when they see the demon in question.] Not really much different than before - some things really don't change.
[It's the end of the hallway where Greed stops. The door there is singed, the framed blackened despite some obviously-new handy work. There's more locks bolted across the wood this time around, their fresh copper glowing against Greed's radiating heat. He flips a few with his knuckle rather casually, only pausing when he finally reaches the doorknob. The Sin's slick-black hand disappears into a pocket and something jingles heavily inside. A moment later produces a ring of keys and they hang loosely from a curve of a claw.] No, I'm sure you've got a lot on your mind. But first thing's first -
[One key slides into the lock and Greed twists his wrist. Angry flakes of skin peel away in the haphazard jerk, causing old scabs to open just a tad. The Sin ignores them, however. His attentions far more concerned with present company.]
[And how much he knows, how much is different.]
[The room in question doesn't leave much to the imagination and it's all too clear that he's had company recently. Who or what has been there, that's harder to tell. Fresh claw marks hover over the head of the bed, the wallpaper peeled back and flapping. The furnace lodged into a corner huffs upon is arrival; causing the fire inside to plume and spit against the barred-mouth grate. Greed slips in, leaving the door open for the Alchemist to follow.]
[A fresh tumbler of scotch rests open on a nightstand, its glass stopper resting horizontally beside. Half the contents are gone by now and Greed's fingers wrap around the neck of it. Making the tips of his talons shiver across the surface, tuning it to a hum. He's not about to waste time - he's never been the sort.]
What do you remember, exactly? [And it's straight to business.]
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[Another concerned frown is cast at that flaking wound, but there's no vocal comment. Instead he simply nods and steps inside on Greed's invitation before taking a glance around the room. The claw marks above the bed bring a brief, pink tinge to Edward's cheeks before he averts his eyes, bringing his focus back onto Greed. His eyes spark with a hint of interest when he spies the scotch, but there's more important things to address first. The question, and especially the phrasing just confirm what he's started to suspect. There's a disconnect between their histories, though one much more subtle than has happened before.]
What I remember? [Ed leans against the wall, sighing as he does. How much detail would he need to give? Where did the change in history lie between them? For now he starts with what was most recent; as they exchanged more, the full story could be told.] Well, last I saw you was when you'd gone back to Dante's mansion, and I found you there and her old body nearly cut in half. I assumed what seemed obvious, got pissed, and we fought. I didn't know she had started to seal you before I'd showed up, and you explained how to do it after I landed the killing blow. [His guilt and grief resurface for a moment before he shoves it back again, too stubborn and scared to really address it.] ...I hadn't expected you to fucking die like that.
[A deep breath before Edward cocks his head slightly, raising an eyebrow to Greed.] But I'm guessing that's not what happened for you, right? Something's different here.
[A familiar problem, one he's been living with quite intimately for the past two years. Even before he'd found Alfons studying with Oberth, he would too often catch sight of a familiar face that didn't really belong to his memories. People he'd met in passing, those he'd lost...seeing Hughes again had nearly stopped his heart where he stood. But then it had only been faces that had remained the same--they hadn't remembered him, or known anything of Amestris or his long string of adventures.]
sorry about the delay!
[But as soon as the Alchemist begins his story, everything seems to slam on the brakes.]
[Greed suddenly stills, the claw inside catching in a high-pitched trill. His shoulders stiffen, his tail jerks to a stop. As if suddenly, all the cogs weren't working - all the gears had locked up tight. It lasts for a while and the foggy noise from the bar below meets the quiet's call; drifting muted conversation through the slit floorboards.]
[Then his head snaps back, his bones crunch. And an erupting laughter cracks through the lull.]
[It lasts for a while, that boom. Enough to rattle the canter in hand and fresh fire churns in his throat. Sending a cough of blackened smoke to meet the ceiling in a filthy, sooty overhang. When he finally tappers off, a few fresh-caught embers spark off his tongue.] Ha - ! No, you've got it all wrong. You never killed me. [The Sin finds his footing again, cutting an uneven line across the room. The canter finds a home on a table closer to the bed and he relieves himself of it with haphazard abandon.] And I don't know anyone named Dante.
[The tip of his tail slithers across the floor between their conversation, the barbed edge easing behind the handle. A jerk of his hip sends the door wide open and the fire inside is angry, yet warm. Far too hot, yet oddly inviting. Greed tilts his head to the side and his sunglasses boil with the afterglow. In an orange-pitch that's a little closer to gold than anything else.]
[But what Ed has to say leads to one thing for both parties: a suspicion confirmed. Their stories don't match, their histories are different. It isn't the first time he's experienced the discrepancies, but those had been mild. Small little details lost for whatever reason. This? Oh, this is just so much more.]
[And for avarice incarnate, well.] I'm going to guess the name Ling doesn't ring a bell either, does it? [With his back Ed, Greed traces the side of his drink. While it might not be seen, it's far easier to hear: that slick grin, poised tooth for tooth in a deadly set. He raps his knuckle once again the side of the glass, humming.] No, it's not. Good ol'Daddy sir - and you're not the first I've run across with a different story. Seems to me you and I have a lot to talk about, don't we?
[He doesn't even ask, nor does he imply that he'll have it any other way. A force to be reckoned with, though Greed doesn't have any ill intentions. Instead, two glasses appear from a drawer. Slipped up and clipped together by the brims. He sloshes a healthy serving in one, topping off the next with a little less. Then the canter's gone and he finally turns to face the other.] First thing's first -
[He holds out one glass for the other, his grin wide. Whether or not the gesture is sincere, it's hard to tell.]
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[But Greed bursts out in fiery laughter and he sighs in relief with a faint chuckle. Maybe an odd thing to take comfort in, given the sin's (disturbingly appropriate) demonic appearance; someone else might have been intimidated by a display like this, but Ed has seen far worse demons that wore a kinder face. No, Greed isn't someone he needs to fear. Not right now, at least.]
[The explanations of the differences--those bring a faint frown, though one born of confusion rather than upset. If Dante wasn't still around, did that mean the homunculii were truly acting on their own devices? Or had someone else stepped in to fill those shoes?]
[He shrugs the heavy overcoat off as the boiler spills even more heat into the room. Obviously this must be comfortable for Greed, but a mere human is likely to sweat through his shirt if he keeps that warm layer on in here.] I can't say I've ever met a Ling before. Who are they? [They must be a friend for Greed to have brought them up. Someone that worked with and helped them both, maybe? And that second part, about 'Good ol'Daddy'...that's rather worrying.] Wait, you're not talking about Hohenheim, are you?
[Ed doesn't protest the unspoken insistence of information; he's just as eager to know where the differences lie, what that might mean. He steps away from the wall and over to Greed, accepting the glass with a grin and nod.] Who's the other person you met, though? Someone I might know?
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