Chapter 3: God's lost Child, becomes a normal lost child
شارلٹ woke up in a dusty room, with dim lighting. She got her bearings slowly, and pulled the covers off her body. She walked along a narrow hallway, until she came completely into the main body of the hidden network. There were two long میز, جدول s near the entrance, which were plastered with older documents and books. She spotted a small bent figure in a chair stunted against the window sill. She ambled over to it, and recognized the boy from last night. She shook his shoulder gently, and he grumbled a barely audible curse. She smacked the back of his head, and he sat up instantly. He scanned the room with large and alarmed eyes, and when they rested on her, he lost all excitement. She surveyed his مزید notable features, like his height, and hair. But the most eerie thing, was his eyes. They looked familiar, but she couldn't place them. He suddenly stood from his perch, and climbed down from his inch high step. He strode over to the large tables, and found a small cloth bag. He untied the old string, and emptied the contents onto the table. 700 cens were in that bag. شارلٹ gasped, and the boy turned, and strangely smiled at her.
"Well, what to do with these, huh?" He stuffed them all back into the bag, and grabbed his cloak. His undergarments were familiar too. So was the cloak, with the Flamel پار, صلیب on the back... He suddenly clasped the handle of the door, and pulled, being careful not to let the boxes fall on سب, سب سے اوپر of himself. He pushed them out of the way, and surveyed the alley, before signaling to شارلٹ to follow him. She crawled carefully over the boxes, and landed loudly on the hard flagstones. The sound echoed and broke through the early morning silence of the plaza. The boy led the way over to an abandoned building, and opened the door silently. He let شارلٹ go first, and quickly followed. She marveled at the amount of steps, and was brought back, سے طرف کی the sound of shuffling. She turned her head to see the blond boy taking off his cloak. She felt her face grow red as she watched him undress until his شرٹ, قمیض was off. She quickly turned around. Her current thought were interrupted سے طرف کی a sudden impact to the back of her head. She felt something slide onto the floor, and bent down o see what it was. It was the چادر, فرغل that the boy had just been wearing. He was now dressed in a form-fitting turquoise flannel with rolled up sleeves, and black skinny jeans. He had changed his گزشتہ shoe, to a مزید casual one, with no laces. Either that, یا he head tucked the flaps under the end of his pants. She gasped as she saw the watch hanging from his brown belt. A state Alchemist?! She began to back away, but her turned and grabbed her سے طرف کی the hand, leading her out the door. The sun wasn't even above the rooftops, and it was cold. She kept wondering how he could even handle those sleeves, but noticed that he was shivering just as much as she was. He led her down another alleyway until they were at a conjunction to a seemingly bust street. He turned سب, سب سے اوپر her, and eyed her. He looked again, and without warning, used his right hand to shove her into a pile of garbage bags. He bent over her face, and didn't move, until the footsteps were gone. He sighed with relief, and pulled her up. He promptly apologized for that, and pulled out the bag of coins.
"We should get آپ some new clothes. You'll be recognized in those." He ambled out into the street, and شارلٹ followed. She reached out to grab his hand, and felt insane cold. She withdrew her hand, and looked at his. It was automail. Instead, she pulled the کوٹ tighter around herself, and followed in silence as he led her down the cold and lonely streets of Central plaza.
شارلٹ woke up in a dusty room, with dim lighting. She got her bearings slowly, and pulled the covers off her body. She walked along a narrow hallway, until she came completely into the main body of the hidden network. There were two long میز, جدول s near the entrance, which were plastered with older documents and books. She spotted a small bent figure in a chair stunted against the window sill. She ambled over to it, and recognized the boy from last night. She shook his shoulder gently, and he grumbled a barely audible curse. She smacked the back of his head, and he sat up instantly. He scanned the room with large and alarmed eyes, and when they rested on her, he lost all excitement. She surveyed his مزید notable features, like his height, and hair. But the most eerie thing, was his eyes. They looked familiar, but she couldn't place them. He suddenly stood from his perch, and climbed down from his inch high step. He strode over to the large tables, and found a small cloth bag. He untied the old string, and emptied the contents onto the table. 700 cens were in that bag. شارلٹ gasped, and the boy turned, and strangely smiled at her.
"Well, what to do with these, huh?" He stuffed them all back into the bag, and grabbed his cloak. His undergarments were familiar too. So was the cloak, with the Flamel پار, صلیب on the back... He suddenly clasped the handle of the door, and pulled, being careful not to let the boxes fall on سب, سب سے اوپر of himself. He pushed them out of the way, and surveyed the alley, before signaling to شارلٹ to follow him. She crawled carefully over the boxes, and landed loudly on the hard flagstones. The sound echoed and broke through the early morning silence of the plaza. The boy led the way over to an abandoned building, and opened the door silently. He let شارلٹ go first, and quickly followed. She marveled at the amount of steps, and was brought back, سے طرف کی the sound of shuffling. She turned her head to see the blond boy taking off his cloak. She felt her face grow red as she watched him undress until his شرٹ, قمیض was off. She quickly turned around. Her current thought were interrupted سے طرف کی a sudden impact to the back of her head. She felt something slide onto the floor, and bent down o see what it was. It was the چادر, فرغل that the boy had just been wearing. He was now dressed in a form-fitting turquoise flannel with rolled up sleeves, and black skinny jeans. He had changed his گزشتہ shoe, to a مزید casual one, with no laces. Either that, یا he head tucked the flaps under the end of his pants. She gasped as she saw the watch hanging from his brown belt. A state Alchemist?! She began to back away, but her turned and grabbed her سے طرف کی the hand, leading her out the door. The sun wasn't even above the rooftops, and it was cold. She kept wondering how he could even handle those sleeves, but noticed that he was shivering just as much as she was. He led her down another alleyway until they were at a conjunction to a seemingly bust street. He turned سب, سب سے اوپر her, and eyed her. He looked again, and without warning, used his right hand to shove her into a pile of garbage bags. He bent over her face, and didn't move, until the footsteps were gone. He sighed with relief, and pulled her up. He promptly apologized for that, and pulled out the bag of coins.
"We should get آپ some new clothes. You'll be recognized in those." He ambled out into the street, and شارلٹ followed. She reached out to grab his hand, and felt insane cold. She withdrew her hand, and looked at his. It was automail. Instead, she pulled the کوٹ tighter around herself, and followed in silence as he led her down the cold and lonely streets of Central plaza.
which caused so much sacrifice and misery unknown.
Deceptively though, the stone did appeal
and made foolish men think its happiness real.
O wise philosopher آپ must grieve no more
if آپ wish to revive the mirth of before.
آپ must face your past, for آپ cannot atone
for the damage آپ wrought with the wretched red stone.
Where is the land? That land from the past,
which many before آپ sought and amassed?
Take heed of their folly, and don't be deceived
سے طرف کی the trap which left many despaired and bereaved.
Though for happiness, power and ease they did strive,
instead they found death and now none are alive.
Consider these perished; this warning adhere.
Will آپ continue to seek out this stone you held dear?
آپ who beheld it’s baneful hue red
when the blood of your own arm and own leg was shed?
Stone of philosophers, ruby red stone.
When will آپ cease and leave mankind alone?