A heavy rain fell over the Capital as Alphonse stared out of his window. The room in which he had once lived felt foreign and uncomfortable. It told a story of a child, of a naïve prince, who once saw the world in vivid colors. He remembered picking out the colors and decorating it with the things merchants would bring to the castle.
He was a completely different person then. One who did not know what spirits were or how it felt to snuff out a man's life with the weight of a blade. That boy's features were softer and full of life. His melancholy wasn't because he had taken the man's life, but that the innocence he once knew was lost. The safety once held within the confines of his room was no more.
