ღ✎Authoress's Noteღ✎: My one and only disclaimer, the story is rated PG-13 at least and will include, cursing, violence, gore, suggestive situations, potentially triggering topics, and spoilers for the main series. Content warnings won't be issued on a chapter by chapter basis since I think that ruins the mood.

Usually, I don't like having a reader-character where the appearance is decided for you. In this case, because she's specifically Xingese and that is plot relevant, she looks like the Xingese characters we've encountered in the FMAB world—with dark hair and eyes. She's also implied to be on the shorter side, sorry to all my taller readers-!

Dedication to Mythrite for enduring all my rambling about this story and enduring my OCD questioning as she beta read for me. She's also just a great friend that's been with me for a long time, and a writer I really admire, so be sure to check her out!~

Thank you, and let's get onto the story~

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 "Why is big brother taking so long?" The spherical figure pouts, rocking back and forth as he sucks on his thumb. Calling him an overgrown man-child is too accurate, especially considering the whine that accompanies his words. "Lust, I'm hungry..."

"Bear with it, Gluttony." Sometimes Lust can even relate to how human mothers feel. "Though, I can't say I like being kept waiting." Lust scowls as she raps her fingernails against her upper arm. "There's nothing more unattractive than a man who shows up late to a date."

"As if I would ever go on a date with a woman like you." The only thing familiar about the low, dulcet voice is the metallic undertone—like the ring of a blade being unsheathed. "Especially not in this kind of filthy hovel." A black dress shoe nudges the door open, revealing a tall figure wearing an irritated expression.

"Big brother, you grew!"

"Pride. What a surprise." She raises a brow as she does a top to bottom scan of the male in front of her. He looks at least seventeen, with all the youthful arrogance that a teenage brat like that would possess. Cheerful, childish features have given way to cruel beauty; to sharp angles and lips that curve into smirks rather than smiles—or in this instance, scowls. "You've actually gotten rather handsome. Why the sudden change; I thought you liked being a tiny pipsqueak."

The dark-haired male flicks a stray bang away from his violet eyes—another change that doesn't go unnoticed by the other homunculi. [1] "Nothing that concerns you."

"That foul attitude of yours is the same as ever." Infuriating brat.

"So, why are you here, big brother? Did you bring me any food?" Gluttony interjects before the argument can escalate—sometimes even his oafishness has its place. Then again, she'd rather be with a happy-go-lucky oaf than an insufferable know-it-all.

"I was doing some sight-seeing and I thought I would stop by to check on your progress." Pride strides around the room like a wolf on the prowl, shadows flickering around him with each step.

"Sight-seeing." A scoff of disbelief. "Have you hit your head, Pride? Have you forgotten that Father needs you in Central?"

The quiet clicks of his shoes comes to a halt and Gluttony's whining dies with them. Silence, complete and utter silence seizes the room. "Are you trying to tell me where I should and shouldn't be, Lust?" Her name, the casual tilt of his head—they're both warnings—she's on a tightrope, treading the thin line of Pride's barely existent patience. But he's got another thing coming if he thinks he can get her on her knees. She's not the one in the wrong, even if his cold, contemptuous stare makes her feel like she is.

"Ah..." Gluttony's head turns towards her. "Ah...!" Then Pride. Then back at her. And back at him. "Agh! Please stop it!" He thrashes his head left and right, balling his hands into fists and slamming them against his head. "Please don't fight. Please-!" Crocodile tears spring from his eyes as his cries ring out in the large room.

Fine. She'll give in. For Gluttony's sake. Her eyebrows lower as she exhales, slouching slightly as she deflates. "No. Please forgive me." It takes all she has to mutter that forced apology, the words taste worse than sewage.

But she's not letting this go. This isn't just a simple check in, no, Pride is nothing if not a selfish creature. He is the personification of hubris after all. Sight-seeing, a change in appearance for the first time in centuries, there has to be some ulterior motive behind it, but what?

'Hmph. Maybe the high and mighty Pride has a human he cares about; why else would he want an older version of his vessel?' The notion is so ridiculous that she writes it off immediately. If anything, Father probably just wanted an update on the situation since they've been away from Central for so long with a large number of Philosopher's Stones and Pride must have been the only one available.

There was no way that Pride would ever take interest in anything outside of himself, let alone a human.

~~**~~*~~**~~

'What was that place Selim got off at again...? Liore?' Glancing back at the train tracks from where you came, you shake your head slightly. 'Hopefully it's not this run down. I could imagine some bandits trying to jump him since he looks like a stuck-up rich kid with no common sense.' Full-length dress pants, a red button up, and a black vest. Yes, the outfit came together nicely, he looked smart and put together as always, but who dressed like that in the desert??

In truth, you were less worried about Selim and more worried about any bandits or muggers that would try to jump him. Merciful wasn't exactly the first word that came to mind when you thought about the Führer's pride and joy—another sigh—hopefully this trip would end without too much bloodshed. You knew it wasn't your fault, and he knew it wasn't your fault, but everyone else didn't. Have some mysterious, inexplicable deaths where the bodies are nowhere to be found and the government doesn't blink an eye? It's definitely the Führer's pet dragon doing his dirty-work. (That's only true part of the time.)

You're starting to feel like the grim reaper or something.

Speaking of harbingers of death, this place looked like a fine dining establishment made for buzzards and other scavengers. Occasionally they provide some much needed shade by blocking out the sun during their constant laps overhead, just waiting for someone to give into the effects of heat exhaustion and dehydration. There are a few people around you that fit this criteria—skeletal, hidden under thin cloaks, hugging their knees and seeking shelter in the shade of the buildings.

Most people are inside right now, it's the middle of the afternoon and not even a single cloud can be seen in the sky. Each breath tastes like sand and your throat and lungs are slowly succumbing to an itch that makes you long to reach for the precious liquid stored in your canteen. Who's brilliant idea was it to send a water alchemist into the desert where the only water was the blood flowing through her veins?

'Oh wait, I was the one who wanted to come...' You can't even blame this misguided mission on Führer Bradley's strange sense of humor. 'I should get out of this heat for a bit and try to get some information.'

Looking around at the different buildings, you spot a small place down the street that should be able to help. A faded sign reading, "restaurant," sways in the wind just overtop of the doorway. It's a small brick building, the once white paint is chipping off in large chunks, revealing red bricks dusted with a gracious smattering of sand overtop. You push the door open, making a small bell ring overhead. Inside, the restaurant is empty, there are four tables of four and two booths—one of the tables still has plates on top of it, but no cups.

"Not everyday we get a new face around here," the deep voice came from a muscular man standing behind the clay counter. Bright hazel eyes bore into you, focused, curious; you wouldn't be surprised if this is the first time that they've seen someone from Xing around here.

"Hello." You acknowledge him with a polite nod of your head. You maneuver towards him, through the askew chairs, courtesy of the uncleaned table. "You're not closed already, are you?"

He shakes his head. "Been through all my regulars, figured I had time before those guys came back for dinner. Feel free to take a seat at the counter, or wherever you want. As you can see, things aren't too lively around these parts."

You take his suggestion and slide into one of the open barstools at the counter. "I'm guessing water comes at a high price around here?"

His brow sets in a firm line at your lighthearted tone. "A glass is at least five times the price of the lunch special." The "Lunch-A Special," according to a nearby menu, is really just a piece of toast topped with a single slice of fried deli-meat.

"I'll take the water, please."

"Sorry to be a hardass, but payment is up front when it comes to water. It's more valuable than gold 'round these parts."

You fetch the coins from the small pouch wrapped around your thigh. When you place them into the man's hand, he nods appreciatively and tucks them into his apron's pocket. From under the counter he pulls out a thick bucket and he undoes the padlock before opening the four latches on the perimeter of the lid. Each one makes a noisy creak as its opened—the entire process takes nearly a minute.

'A security measure like that just for some water. He wasn't joking about that more valuable than gold line.'

He picks up a single glass—the outside is covered in a thin coating of dust—and fills it up three fourths of the way before setting the water in front of you.

"The drought is that bad, hmm?" You pick up the glass by the rim, swirling it, watching small specks circle in the slightly clouded water. It's probably filtered rainwater or something similar.

"'Fraid so." He crosses his arms over his chest. "Ever since a year ago, we haven't seen a single drop of water." His eyes aren't fixed on you, but rather on the glass you're idly swirling. "All the vegetables, livestock, and domesticated animals have died off already. To make matters worse, the military bastard in charge of this place is a real greedy scumbag."

You stop swirling the water. "Oh?"

"Major Arzen. He's been overtaxing us and he monopolizes all the supplies coming in. We can't fight back, or he'd just arrest us all and leave us to the buzzards. If things stay like this, we're all going to become buzzard food anyways." His brows are set into a hard, unyielding line and his fingers curl into claws around his forearm. He draws his stare away from the water and points with his chin, at something behind you. "Those regulars of mine, they all used to be the richest men in town. That's the only reason they have any money left. But even they're about to go flat broke."—a weary, wistful sigh—"Krowatol used to be called the Oasis of the Desert, but at this rate it's going to be wiped off the map." His voice breaks on the last part, maybe emotion, maybe just the dryness of his throat.

"Here." You set the glass down and slide it across the counter. "You seem like you need this more than me." He doesn't look like the type that sneaks water from his own reserves.

He licks his already chapped lips. "No, it's..."

"Consider it a thanks for the information," you urge in a soft tone.

That reaffirmation is the last nudge that he needs. The owner finally gives into his thirst and takes the glass, lifting it to his lips with trembling hands. He drinks the water in slow sips, savoring it like a wine-enthusiast with a vintage spirit. When a drop escapes the corner of his lips, he instantly lowers the glass and chases it with his tongue.

The way he slowly works through the cup—you feel like an intruder that accidentally stumbled upon a private moment between a man and his god. Frowning slightly, you avert your eyes. 'No one should ever have to be this thirsty.'

It reminds you of the time you crossed the Great Desert, when five members of the twenty person caravan succumbed to heat exhaustion and dehydration. Even with your knowledge of Alkahestry, there was nothing you could do for them in that state. You had to watch the desert sands swallow them.

Not this time—you hand grips the silver pocket-watch tucked away in your bag—this time, you weren't going to stand by helplessly.

"Thank you." The word drags you out of your thoughts and draws your attention back to the man. His voice is a little less raspy, and he spoke in a much gentler tone with you. His hazel eyes are lighter than ever, crinkled at the corners from his fatherly smile—it makes you think of your dad waiting impatiently back at Central. "Let me get you a lunch special, on the house." He's already reaching towards the frying pan.

"Nah, don't worry about it." You dismiss his fussing with a kind smile and a wave of your hand; you're on your feet before he can force his hospitality on you. "I've got somewhere I need to be. Save the food for yourself and your regulars, 'kay?" The door's bell rings again and you're instantly slapped by a wave of heat.

"Wait!"

You stop for a second, glancing over your shoulder. "Hmm?"

"Who are you anyways, traveler?"

A small chuckle. "Just a water enthusiast." You could tell him, but he'd treat you differently if he learned about your title; you wanted to keep the impression he had of you intact—the impression which earned you that smile. "Please take care. Maybe the town will turn around soon~" 

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ღ✎El's Behind the Scenes ღ✎:

Footnotes:

     [1] Pride's violet eyes: The FMAB anime has an instance where Pride's eyes change color from black to violet, it represents when he consumes something and then assimilates a certain ability of theirs, which is exactly what he's done. While he can age his vessel, the most change seen is within a range of five years, but he's still a young child. In order to grow past that, I figured he would just consume some teenager going through puberty. (RIP, that kid.)