"WHY ARE YOU IN MY BATHROOM?"
"More important than an ice cream sandwich?" How.
He laughed, “How about we stick close to the wall the first little bit until you get the hang of it then? Won’t fall down so much anyways that way.” it worked for him anyways until he’d gotten the hang of it.
"Well we haven’t gone in a while but I’m pretty sure Al still remembers. We were pretty little when we last went but maybe it’s kinda like getting on a bike again? Just have to get the hang of it and then it’s not so bad."
She laughed at the thought of them tripping and scrambling on the ice, a real pile of fools. Rubbing her eyes with a silly grin on her face, she nodded. “I hope you’re right. But I’m not going to lie, falling and sliding all over the place is part of the fun.”
Winry was smiling at him. It wasn’t strange, she smiled lots of times, she always seemed so happy. At least to him she did. This time though it was…he wasn’t sure how to describe it even to himself other than brighter than usual. It was just a brighter smile, and he liked getting a chance to see her that happy. It seemed a bit odd that he might have done that just from being happy himself. He didn’t do anything though, did he?
She was always nice to him, and willing to be patient with him while he tried to piece things together or get comfortable with her. Winry was the only human he really interacted with past just watching her live her life when she walked past wherever he was seated watching the city move around him. And Pride was happy with that.
He just watched her a moment longer before nodding. If Winry was happy then he was glad. She was nice, she should be happy.
His silence was a comfortable one as she didn’t mind leaving him to it. With a nod, the blonde wandered to the workbench and started to gather tools in neat little piles.
”Listen, I have a few joint orders to finish for tomorrow’s shipment. You’re welcome to hang out if you want, but my feelings won’t be hurt if you’d rather go do something else. I don’t want to bore you.” There was a smile to her tone as she lifted a box of clanking and clamoring metallic bits down from an upper shelf and set it with a thud onto the table.
The Ether was located at the edge of Hell, in the First Circle: Limbo. They didn’t really want to put it any deeper in—to have done that would have made it unpleasant for any visitors wishing to make a pickup when the Ether was still active. After all, the sound of screaming gets higher-pitched as one descends, and even in the Second Circle, the pained moaning can be annoying.
To Kimbley, Limbo was rather uninteresting. It was made up of a stretch of nothingness littered with the whining, despondent souls of the not-so-damned. In the beginning, it had been the jumping point for the construction of the rest of Hell, which was why it was rather less impressive than what Hell really had to offer. No boiling oil or frigid ice here. Just fields and gateways. Add a few sheep, and it would look like the Midwestern U.S.
Minos—the guardian of Limbo and judge of the incoming dead—stood at the far end of his domain, tending to his work. Like all other residents of Hell, when Kimbley ascended and approached him, Minos gave off a certain… hostile aura in his general direction. It was very much common knowledge that—being one of the Fallen—Kimbley was to be respected, but with with his backstory (and even if that did not exist, his personality would suffice), it was also very easy to despise him.
Just as well.
"Mammon," Minos acknowledged the other sternly.
"It’s Kimbley now.”
Minos wasn’t one for humor—especially when it came to the demon he was now conversing with. If he had a physical face, Kimbley imagined it would have a perpetual frown and crease marks from all that scowling.
"Very well. What is the meaning of your visitation?"
"A newborn has apparently arisen from the Ether, and I’ve come to claim it."
A pause, then, “I was not aware.”
Though Kimbley knew he could very easily scold Minos for his oversight, he was also aware of how very large Limbo was, how many nooks and crannies it had, and—of course—Minos was such a busy little bee, being the one to sentence each damned soul to their proper Circle.
And that was a full-time career.
"If that’s how it is, I suppose I’ll just have to begin a search," Kimbley sighed. "Keep up the good work, I suppose."
And so—leaving Minos behind—Kimbley began his trek across Limbo.
It began as a peaceful awakening; but no sooner did she arrived than the place became rather irritating to the lesser demon, for she was not alone. What she assumed to be a chance at personal salvation, and reprieve from the eons of dark, soon revealed itself to be little more than a brooding ground for the pitiful and the desperate.
Through the fog did they emerge, clinging to her as she passed. Crying and chanting of their innocence, begging for another chance at what, she didn’t know. They clawed and clamored and were all together oppressing on her. Though she had never uttered a sound, words to connect the ages began to flow from her as she shook off the disgusting little things.
”Your guilt is not of my concern, you wretches. Take your folly and truths and move elsewhere, I cannot free you.”
One by one, they began to melt into the distance until she felt no aura but her own.
She continued on, but was no longer at peace. Passing groups of whispering dead who peered at her with eyes not seen. Writhing collections of ones ungraced by God and taken too soon littered her path and pressured her with a sense of urgency. This was not where she was meant to be and it seemed like she was going on circles.
Then, from the far beyond, she felt a strong presence that was unmatched by any she had encountered yet. It was above her moving leisurely as it went.
Without so much as a thought behind her, Kimeotrae changed course and headed for it. Something told her it would be her salvation.
a guide on: roleplaying
today’s choice: regaining muse
Alphonse found himself just staring, lips slightly parted in surprise. It’s a rare sight, Winry dressed up in such elegant attire. He was used to seeing her in her usual mechanic outfits and casual wear, and though he found her beautiful then, this — this was a rare sight. Al found his eyes wandering over her form, taking in the way the elegant dress hugged the curves of her body, the way the delicate fabric contrasted with her strong mechanic’s body.
He realized that he’d been staring for too long only when Winry turned away, and his eyes widened. “What? N-No, don’t—-” He stumbled over his own words, realizing how absurdly adamant he sounded. Blushing, he quickly looked away, trying his best to disguise his embarrassment.
“It’s… You looks really good.”
She felt her own face begin to burn with the familiar, embarrassing hue of pink as he complimented her. It was a bit unexpected. Of course, Alphonse was always nice to her, but this somehow felt a little more genuine.
She turned back towards him, desperately praying that her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. Standing in the doorway, she swayed back and forth like a nervous child, a small smile breaking up the worry in her features. Fingers hooking together in front of her, she bit her lip slightly, not wanting to seem quite so affected by his words. “Really? It’s not too much?”
Her heart was playing on it’s own tune as she took a few calculated steps to where he sat, the fabric sashaying with the subtle swerve of her hips.
"Oh, well isn’t that a shame," he grinned lightly. "I’ll have to… improve my timing next time. Though, you do look quite fetching in that state Ms. Rockbell."
She scoffed audibly, her previous carefree attitude taking a back seat as she attempted to drape an arm across her bare chest. The more she could hide from his hungry eyes, the better she would sleep tonight.
”I don’t need approval from the likes of you. And I certainly don’t need you staring at me like we’re at an auction…” She let the last sentence fall flat as she mumbled under her breath.
"I’m afraid you’re a bit late… pervert.”
Every (¬‿¬) I get my muse will remove a piece of clothing
”Shit.” She very slowly, very hesitantly slips out of her underwear, using her hands to half-heartedly shield herself. Why bother, it’s just a body, right?
Every (¬‿¬) I get my muse will remove a piece of clothing.
A heavy glare is thrown in his direction. She mumbles half-hearted threats as she unbuttons her shirt and slips in over her arms. Kicking her jeans off, she reddens as she think of her options. With a sigh, she unhooks her bra and lets it fall to the ground.
Every (¬‿¬) I get my muse will remove a piece of clothing.
Cue the most dramatic sigh in the universe. “You’re gonna get it later, Kitty.” Off come the gloves and her jacket.