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said_scarlett) wrote2006-07-10 07:25 pm
said_scarlett) wrote2006-07-10 07:25 pm
Every Winter Evening - Pinako - PG-13
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zinjadu's prompt: Unbent, Unbowed, Unbroken.
Title: Every Winter Evening
Author:theladyfeylene
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Character: Pinako Rockbell
Prompt: 072, Winter
Pairing: N/A
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Full series
Summary: Time had a way of creeping up on a person, dragging all its changes behind it. But that was alright, because Rockbell women could handle anything time felt like throwing at them.
It was an unremarkable box. It wasn’t even made out of metal. It was small and wooden and unadorned, and it sat amongst wrenches and gears and sockets looking quite out of place. But it belonged there.
Pinako Rockbell sat in a rickety wooden chair and looked at the box. It was old. But, then again, so was she. She was thinking about that more and more often these days, as her knees creaked just a little bit more each morning and bedtime seemed to be coming earlier and earlier. But that was alright. It was bound to happen one of these days.
It bothered Winry. Pinako could see it in the girl’s eyes every time it took her a few extra minutes to stand up. Soppy girl, Pinako thought. What would she do when Pinako finally succumbed to mortality? Because that was bound to happen, to, though not for a good long while yet. Rockbell women were hardy.
But time had a way of creeping up on one. Pinako puffed on her pipe and with a steady hand, she opened the box. It was full of photographs. There was her husband, buried thirty years ago. Or maybe thirty one. The funny thing about time was how easy it was to lose track of it, the more there was. He’d been a good man. Pinako missed him sometimes, especially now with the snow piled high and the leaves off the trees and the bed damn cold at night. But she had a bed warmer and Winry was good with a shovel and spring always came eventually.
There were the photos from Rush Valley. Pinako wrinkled her nose at one. She’d been tall and lean then, and she supposed she’d been a beautiful woman. Enough men had told her so. Hard to believe it now, when she was small and wrinkled and what hair she had left was grey as steel. Sometimes she missed being young, especially when the cold got into her bones and her breath came shorter than it used to. But her hands were steady and her eyesight was good and she could still make automail as good as she had when she was a girl.
There was a photo of Winry as a babe, with her parents. Pinako’d buried them as well, long before their time. It was a sad state when a mother buried her own child, that wasn’t the way the world was supposed to work. But it was a funny old world, and death didn’t take a vacation for any man. Everyone was equal in the eyes of the grim reaper, and age and family and years left to live didn’t make a difference. But they’d had good lives, and Winry was a good girl and she hadn’t suffered any lasting trauma from losing her folks so young.
There were the photos of the Elrics. The old ones, when Trisha’d married that damn alchemist. What an affair that had been! Sarah’d been the maid of honor. Half the town had turned up just to see it, as no one had believed it would really happen. But it had, and Hohenheim had made her happy for as long as he’d stayed around. Which was far longer than Pinako had thought he would. He’d been a man with a lot of secrets. But Trisha’d known that, and Pinako suspected that Trisha’d known what some of those secrets were, and she’d let it be. And after they were both gone, the boys had bee damn fools but that was how boys were. They’d turned out all right, in the end. Thing usually did.
Oh, Winry’d cried a bit when Edward went missing, Pinako had heard her at night up in her room. But she was a strong girl - Rockbell women were - and she’d been alright after a while. That boy was never going to love her back anyway, and it was best Winry realized that and moved on with her life. There was no use in wasting your life over something that wasn’t going to happen, and Pinako knew if Ed was around, Winry‘d wait for him. Maybe not on purpose, and maybe she wouldn’t have even thought of it, but she’d have waited. And she’d have gone to her grave waiting. There were other young men out there, and Winry was a good looking girl and Rockbell Automail was a good business with a lot of respect. If a young man could get past her temper, she’d do alright.
Pinako put the photographs back in the box and ambled out onto the porch, her pipe clasped firmly between her teeth. It was cold, and her knees were starting to pain her and it was probably passed bedtime, but she wasn’t ready to turn in just yet. She still had tobacco in her pipe, and there was a flask underneath one of the porch chairs, strapped there in case of emergencies. A quick nip would warm the old bones right up.
The road was empty and the yard and fields were covered with snow. Pinako watched it for a long while, and she could remember when there’d been an oak tree just off the steps. Things had changed. She’d changed. She’d birthed a lot of babies and she’d buried a lot of loved ones and she’d fixed a lot of folks who’d gotten careless with their ploughs or their scythes and she’d changed all the while. And they had, too. But that was time for you, always changing things. Some of it changing for the worse, some of it changing for the better, but most of it just changing.
Pinako sighed and tipped the ash out of her pipe before heading back into the house. Spring would be coming before too much longer, and there’d be work to do and bills to pay and maybe another old friend to lay in the ground. Winter wasn’t very kind to the old. But she’d be alright.
Rockbell women always were.
zinjadu's prompt: Unbent, Unbowed, Unbroken.Title: Every Winter Evening
Author:
theladyfeyleneFandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Character: Pinako Rockbell
Prompt: 072, Winter
Pairing: N/A
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Full series
Summary: Time had a way of creeping up on a person, dragging all its changes behind it. But that was alright, because Rockbell women could handle anything time felt like throwing at them.
It was an unremarkable box. It wasn’t even made out of metal. It was small and wooden and unadorned, and it sat amongst wrenches and gears and sockets looking quite out of place. But it belonged there.
Pinako Rockbell sat in a rickety wooden chair and looked at the box. It was old. But, then again, so was she. She was thinking about that more and more often these days, as her knees creaked just a little bit more each morning and bedtime seemed to be coming earlier and earlier. But that was alright. It was bound to happen one of these days.
It bothered Winry. Pinako could see it in the girl’s eyes every time it took her a few extra minutes to stand up. Soppy girl, Pinako thought. What would she do when Pinako finally succumbed to mortality? Because that was bound to happen, to, though not for a good long while yet. Rockbell women were hardy.
But time had a way of creeping up on one. Pinako puffed on her pipe and with a steady hand, she opened the box. It was full of photographs. There was her husband, buried thirty years ago. Or maybe thirty one. The funny thing about time was how easy it was to lose track of it, the more there was. He’d been a good man. Pinako missed him sometimes, especially now with the snow piled high and the leaves off the trees and the bed damn cold at night. But she had a bed warmer and Winry was good with a shovel and spring always came eventually.
There were the photos from Rush Valley. Pinako wrinkled her nose at one. She’d been tall and lean then, and she supposed she’d been a beautiful woman. Enough men had told her so. Hard to believe it now, when she was small and wrinkled and what hair she had left was grey as steel. Sometimes she missed being young, especially when the cold got into her bones and her breath came shorter than it used to. But her hands were steady and her eyesight was good and she could still make automail as good as she had when she was a girl.
There was a photo of Winry as a babe, with her parents. Pinako’d buried them as well, long before their time. It was a sad state when a mother buried her own child, that wasn’t the way the world was supposed to work. But it was a funny old world, and death didn’t take a vacation for any man. Everyone was equal in the eyes of the grim reaper, and age and family and years left to live didn’t make a difference. But they’d had good lives, and Winry was a good girl and she hadn’t suffered any lasting trauma from losing her folks so young.
There were the photos of the Elrics. The old ones, when Trisha’d married that damn alchemist. What an affair that had been! Sarah’d been the maid of honor. Half the town had turned up just to see it, as no one had believed it would really happen. But it had, and Hohenheim had made her happy for as long as he’d stayed around. Which was far longer than Pinako had thought he would. He’d been a man with a lot of secrets. But Trisha’d known that, and Pinako suspected that Trisha’d known what some of those secrets were, and she’d let it be. And after they were both gone, the boys had bee damn fools but that was how boys were. They’d turned out all right, in the end. Thing usually did.
Oh, Winry’d cried a bit when Edward went missing, Pinako had heard her at night up in her room. But she was a strong girl - Rockbell women were - and she’d been alright after a while. That boy was never going to love her back anyway, and it was best Winry realized that and moved on with her life. There was no use in wasting your life over something that wasn’t going to happen, and Pinako knew if Ed was around, Winry‘d wait for him. Maybe not on purpose, and maybe she wouldn’t have even thought of it, but she’d have waited. And she’d have gone to her grave waiting. There were other young men out there, and Winry was a good looking girl and Rockbell Automail was a good business with a lot of respect. If a young man could get past her temper, she’d do alright.
Pinako put the photographs back in the box and ambled out onto the porch, her pipe clasped firmly between her teeth. It was cold, and her knees were starting to pain her and it was probably passed bedtime, but she wasn’t ready to turn in just yet. She still had tobacco in her pipe, and there was a flask underneath one of the porch chairs, strapped there in case of emergencies. A quick nip would warm the old bones right up.
The road was empty and the yard and fields were covered with snow. Pinako watched it for a long while, and she could remember when there’d been an oak tree just off the steps. Things had changed. She’d changed. She’d birthed a lot of babies and she’d buried a lot of loved ones and she’d fixed a lot of folks who’d gotten careless with their ploughs or their scythes and she’d changed all the while. And they had, too. But that was time for you, always changing things. Some of it changing for the worse, some of it changing for the better, but most of it just changing.
Pinako sighed and tipped the ash out of her pipe before heading back into the house. Spring would be coming before too much longer, and there’d be work to do and bills to pay and maybe another old friend to lay in the ground. Winter wasn’t very kind to the old. But she’d be alright.
Rockbell women always were.