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moonsheenTitle: A Pleasure, Sir.
Author: Moonsheen
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Rating: G
Summary: Ryla quits.
Disclaimer: Er. Nope. Not mine.
Challenge: Obscure Characters
He spots her at the bottom of the stairs with the suitcase, the notice she left on his desk clutched in his hand and the desk already being carried out by the workmen with a sheet over it.
"This is ridiculous!" He cries and nearly flings himself off the railing.
She’d be inclined to agree, if she didn’t have a train to catch in an hour and wasn’t already running late.
"It’s been a pleasure working for you, sir." She says and it’s the truth to a point. It doesn’t do much to calm him though--he ends up on his knees anyway, blubbering like a baby and grabbing at the hem of the dress she’d chosen for travel with a long, desperate wail.
"But you….you can’t /do/ this!"
She can, actually. Most of the furniture’s gone already, along with the paintings, and the good silverware, and the other maids smartly packed their things and strutted out the night before, heading for other ventures, other offers—jobs that actually /pay/, under employers that haven’t recently been demoted because they let themselves grow fat and foolish and easily suckered by the likes of twelve year old boys.
She stayed on a little longer than them, though. She’d been under a different contract, and she was catching a different train.
"Goodbye, sir," she says, he won’t give her back her hem for a second, hanging on stubbornly.
"How much do you want?" He babbles. "I can pay it. How much, I’ll give you /extra/, just name your price--"
"Enough for a human soul," she answers, not expecting him to understand -- and he doesn’t, but in the confusion that sets in on his face she breaks away and makes for the door, walking out alongside one of the dragon footed antique armchairs.
"A-ah! Ryla!" she hears him call after her. "Ryla! How much is that--?! RYLA!"
Outside the air of Youswell is thick with the scent of coal and men at work. It disgusts her and she walks quickly in direction she knows the station lies, eager to leave it all behind. Past the fancy gates and gone, hearing figures of a nonexistent wealth shouted at her back. Two million. Three million. More than enough to get her necklace fixed. Not enough to change her mind. She has nothing to gain in staying. It’s a bad trade. She would’ve explained it to him, if she’d had the time--but she didn’t. The train to Central left at nine a.m exactly.
And it wasn’t the only thing she was hoping to catch.
"I’ll find you again," she promises, under brim of the hat she keeps low over her eyes at the platform. A burly man helps her with the suitcase, just as eager to watch her go. "Don’t underestimate me, Edward Elric. I’ll find you." Someday. The whistle blows, the ticket’s in her hand, and Ryla steps aboard.
Author: Moonsheen
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Rating: G
Summary: Ryla quits.
Disclaimer: Er. Nope. Not mine.
Challenge: Obscure Characters
He spots her at the bottom of the stairs with the suitcase, the notice she left on his desk clutched in his hand and the desk already being carried out by the workmen with a sheet over it.
"This is ridiculous!" He cries and nearly flings himself off the railing.
She’d be inclined to agree, if she didn’t have a train to catch in an hour and wasn’t already running late.
"It’s been a pleasure working for you, sir." She says and it’s the truth to a point. It doesn’t do much to calm him though--he ends up on his knees anyway, blubbering like a baby and grabbing at the hem of the dress she’d chosen for travel with a long, desperate wail.
"But you….you can’t /do/ this!"
She can, actually. Most of the furniture’s gone already, along with the paintings, and the good silverware, and the other maids smartly packed their things and strutted out the night before, heading for other ventures, other offers—jobs that actually /pay/, under employers that haven’t recently been demoted because they let themselves grow fat and foolish and easily suckered by the likes of twelve year old boys.
She stayed on a little longer than them, though. She’d been under a different contract, and she was catching a different train.
"Goodbye, sir," she says, he won’t give her back her hem for a second, hanging on stubbornly.
"How much do you want?" He babbles. "I can pay it. How much, I’ll give you /extra/, just name your price--"
"Enough for a human soul," she answers, not expecting him to understand -- and he doesn’t, but in the confusion that sets in on his face she breaks away and makes for the door, walking out alongside one of the dragon footed antique armchairs.
"A-ah! Ryla!" she hears him call after her. "Ryla! How much is that--?! RYLA!"
Outside the air of Youswell is thick with the scent of coal and men at work. It disgusts her and she walks quickly in direction she knows the station lies, eager to leave it all behind. Past the fancy gates and gone, hearing figures of a nonexistent wealth shouted at her back. Two million. Three million. More than enough to get her necklace fixed. Not enough to change her mind. She has nothing to gain in staying. It’s a bad trade. She would’ve explained it to him, if she’d had the time--but she didn’t. The train to Central left at nine a.m exactly.
And it wasn’t the only thing she was hoping to catch.
"I’ll find you again," she promises, under brim of the hat she keeps low over her eyes at the platform. A burly man helps her with the suitcase, just as eager to watch her go. "Don’t underestimate me, Edward Elric. I’ll find you." Someday. The whistle blows, the ticket’s in her hand, and Ryla steps aboard.
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Date: 2004-01-31 11:12 pm (UTC)I'm really impressed with how much this story says about Ryla and her future in just a few short words. Thanks for writing this!
-Mari