TheFifthDollanganger

I am her, lusting after men, riches, vengeance over those who hated or thought me worthless, searching for perfection in that one thing, never giving up on the dance, no matter the blood, sweat, and tears I am him, eternally searching, yearning for that feeling of love and togetherness, falling to pieces as it slips away once again, but willing to wait forever for that one I am her, fearing to be left alone, screaming when I am, always be ridiculed for things beyond my control, and envying others with what I want, praying to wake up with what I lack I am him, forever lost in music and fake, everything fake, from company to flowers, bonded

Riza Hawkeye sighed, exhausted and hot as she and her comrades marched and rode on their horses in the seemingly endless wasteland of the Ishvallan desert. They had to go to one more camp before they could go home. One more fight, but hundreds of bodies. Millions more drops of more often than not innocent blood shed onto the golden grains of sand. As they arrived in their new encampments, the sniper lowered the hood of her creamy cloak before removing it completely, wiping the sweat from her brow. She laid downed in her tent and decided to get some shut eye, surrendering to sleep for a while before she had to go back to the horrors of war.

Tuesday morning. The two teens walked to the barn. Roy being a gentleman (or so he thought) and a playboy, he helped Riza groom and tack up. "Who the hell invented this?! It's stupid!" Riza exclaimed, frustrated as she threw down the cinch straps. "Why don't you just have a girth and billets like an English saddle?! It's so much easier!" Roy chuckled. "Because we cowboys," Riza glared, arms crossed. "And cowgirls know how to actually do work." Riza growled, resisting the urge to slap this idiot. Roy ignored it. "Do you trust me?" "Why do you ask?" Riza questioned, eyebrow raised. Roy just smiled and stepped behind the confused girl, taking

Monday rolled around and Berthold Hawkeye left for his business trip, not forgetting to remind Roy to keep practicing and for Riza to stay away from him. The second he was in his truck and out of sight both teens raced out to the barn, running to the pasture. "Who goes first to teach?" Roy asked, panting slightly. Riza thought for a second, quickly getting an idea. She went over to a garbage can and pulled out six empty beer cans. "Stay here." She ran to the house, coming back minutes later with two handguns and a stopwatch. "We shoot. Whoever gets their cans in the quickest time goes first." Roy nodded, but quickly saw a flaw in this plan