Marcoh

(This is a story filled with language, blood, and other stuff that readers might feel discomfort while reading. Please take this as a warning.)

Little Marcoh was in a small farm, filled with many crops unlike what fits its size. Likewise, she wandered around, looking for a specific plant that her mother asked to get her to make tea. As she walked around, she noticed them across the other side.

There they are!

She thought, starting to walk across the somewhat tall plants, flowers, grass, and crops.

When she reached them, she rented down and started collecting the flower, the beautiful smell reaching the nose. But...

For some reason,

There was a strange edged silence for a moment, before a loud explosion sound was heard, an extended and lingering ringing in her ears, loud, stretched, and coming from a bit south.

Oh, no... no no no no no!

She thought, worry etched on her young face, eyes wide, teeth gritted. She shifted, getting up and looking at the direction where the sound came from, the ringing still lingering in her ears, and voices of yelling reaching her ears. Furthermore, she started Running. Running across the plants, the grass, the path. The soft breeze ruffling her hair, her black braid bouncing on her back and shoulders as she hurried. Her heart was thudding in her ears, her breathing shallow, ragged and shaky, as her mind was pounding with thoughts, at the same time, the world around her faint and her mind cleared all sounds and yelling and... screams of people.

What is going on? Is it... n-no, not again! Once again, she thought.

And then... She was woken up, she had woken up in her old bedroom. From when she was just nine years old. From when that war broke out.

The house was in ruins, clearly burned down. Half of the roof destroyed, walls broken apart like a catapult was thrown. The smell was almost suffocating, but not quite. The scene wasn't cleared out. Planks of wood scattered across the ground, dust filling the air, frames with pictures on a hallway wall, dusted up and faded. Her old bedroom wooden door was... Kind of broken.

She slowly sat up, groaning and rubbing the sleep from the eyes as her vision slowly wasn't blurred anymore, and came clear. "Ugh.... that nightmare again... seriously, it's been six years and I am still not over it yet..."

She exhales, leaning forward a bit, her boots on the floor, her elbows on her knees, steadying her head, as she just... thought. Looking around the once filled with laughter empty space. Her hair ruffling softly against the breeze of the open window that has remained like this since eighteen-ninety-nine, back when the civil war started. Her neck exposed, since her hair is short, cut.

A bandage wrapped around her wrist, coral and pink dusting the white bandage. She looked at it once and sighed again.

It was a large scrape of her skin, when last night, she tried lifting and moving a piece of wood, but scratched her arm. Thankfully, she had been prepared and had bandages with her.

"Why does my life have to be like this?"

She said aloud, wondered, she had already been through enough, she has been through hell, and seen plenty of it.

She slowly got up, and walked across the room. She covered her nose and mouth with her left, white, gloved hand metal clinking. She reached and dusted off her old desk, picking up a small book. The journal that she brought, that she just likes to write in it sometimes. She started across the other side to the door, carefully walking on some stairs. The wooden staircase creaking faintly with each step, her journal held next to her. Eventually, she reached yet another dusted room. Larger one this time. The living room and the kitchen, as it once was. She walked across, memories flooding back through her head as she stared at the dining table, memories of joy, but now her life is the opposite. She continued walking towards a closed door, grabbing the handle, swinging it and opening it. Inside, her father's studies.

She has begun searching for something all over the room. Bookshelves, shelves, stacks of books, larger stacks of books, in drawers, everywhere. trying to find the only book that maybe it will show her the truth. The truth to why the transmutation she once did, did not work.

Unfortunately, she didn't.

And that was a little bit frustrating, to say the least.

She grunted, and started off walking out of the room, closing the door behind her. She walked past another room that she purposely ignored and got out of the destroyed house, her expression casual, hands now put inside her trousers' pockets. Her eyes glinting in the morning sunlight

The sun has arisen.

And a new day has just began. Marcoh thought it would be the same day over and over again, called by Mustang, for something, maybe, she did not give a single shit about.

But to her best luck...? A soldier appeared put of nowhere.

Lieutenant Hawkeye? What is she doing here? What does Colonel want this time?

She questioned herself. The lieutenant approached Marcoh and simply explained that she was summoned..

"Summoned? Me? Again? Why?" She spoke up, raising and eyebrow as she stared up at her, her expression partically screaming "I-don't-want-this-thing-again" But Riza explained:

"Colonel Mustang wants you to give a tour of the headquarters to a new State Alchemist, newcomer from Creta."

Marcoh looked at her, dumbfounded. She was too exhausted and wasn't in the mood to tour anyone anywhere.

"Why me though?" She asked, pausing after looking at the expression Hawkeye was maintaining, then continuing to speak again "You know there are other people who can tour the guy, right?"

"She is a female." Hawkeye stated.

"Still! What about Edward? Alphonse? Colonel? Hughes? Lieutenant Maria? Major? I don't want to tour her..!" Marcoh protested, her other brow meeting with the other one, raised.

"It was not a question, nor a choice. It's an order." Hawkeye stated once again.

Marcoh grumbled under her breath and walked down the path of the hill, her hands curled into a ball in her pockets, As she started walking, metal clinking.

A new day has arisen, like before, once again.

And it might not be a day Marcoh will like..

--

Thank you thank you thank you so much for reading, I really hoped you guys liked it! If you'd like, check out my other works that I... paused working on for a bit... I have a really good excuse for that! Well... not quite... AHEM. ANYWAYS. Again, thank you so much for reading and I will probably write again. Sometime. I don't know when, don't ask, lol. See ya next chapter!

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