When the announcement finally comes over the radio that the crisis is over and the Fuhrer is dead, Winry cries and cries and cries until Pinako is forced to sit her at the table with a glass of water for rehydration. Every minute between regaining consciousness and this radio announcement had felt like a torturous eternity, the two of them clenching each others hands so hard that they were lucky to still have sufficient circulation in their fingers. Every second that ticked by, Winry had felt the air leaving her lungs, replaced with something as heavy and leaden as her first automail constructs. Her grandmother - so strong, stoic, and unflappable - looked as fragile and old as the night her parents' deaths were reported.
Really, even without nearly having suffered through their souls being ripped away, it was a wonder the Rockbell women had managed to survive the whole ordeal.
She almost feels ashamed, but isn't this a natural reaction? Isn't it okay to cry because you're so relieved that the worst is over, that your friends have succeeded in beating their always impossible odds? Ten minutes, she tells herself, You have ten more minutes to indulge in all this crying and then you're getting back to work, Winry Rockbell. After all, knowing Ed, her precious automail was probably in pieces by now and she'd be working overtime to craft something that masterful again.
Her grandmother is already busying herself with preparing a meal while Den bounces around her, waiting to hoover even the tiniest morsel that she might drop. "Well that's that. Crises may come and go but life marches on, and maybe those boys can finally get on with theirs too," she says as she pauses to wipe her glasses on her greasy apron, "It's about time."
They both make a point of not looking at the phone, waiting for the phonecall that will never come.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2012-05-19 03:00 am (UTC)Really, even without nearly having suffered through their souls being ripped away, it was a wonder the Rockbell women had managed to survive the whole ordeal.
She almost feels ashamed, but isn't this a natural reaction? Isn't it okay to cry because you're so relieved that the worst is over, that your friends have succeeded in beating their always impossible odds? Ten minutes, she tells herself, You have ten more minutes to indulge in all this crying and then you're getting back to work, Winry Rockbell. After all, knowing Ed, her precious automail was probably in pieces by now and she'd be working overtime to craft something that masterful again.
Her grandmother is already busying herself with preparing a meal while Den bounces around her, waiting to hoover even the tiniest morsel that she might drop. "Well that's that. Crises may come and go but life marches on, and maybe those boys can finally get on with theirs too," she says as she pauses to wipe her glasses on her greasy apron, "It's about time."
They both make a point of not looking at the phone, waiting for the phonecall that will never come.