Not very fond of, but I was again on a writer's block, so this is all I could produce. Please review!

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Spiraling waves fighting for authority against the shorelines, foam seething and teasing the pebbles, competing in an age old war, the coral sunset projecting against the teal water portraying an endless stream of glistening soul in the aqua tidal.

And it was a soul of knowledge vaster then a human's, yet had the courage and optimism to look past it and flounder in the morning's gleam, juvenile outlook matching a kid's, despite reminiscences of another day, situation and morn.

My senses had told me to come to here, this spot where the sun danced in small, circular spotlights, the water gulping and lapping at my bare feet dangling from the dappled crag, the trees that framed the area sighing with gossip.

And yet here he was, alone, watching the birds cry to the heavens and glide down to the tides for their breakfast. His flaxen hair glinted slightly with the warm wind tussling the loose strands, eyes silent and clouded over in thought, foot licking the water which in return jumped at the opportunity of meeting a new player for their games.

And we sat beside each other with nothing but a 'oh, good morning, Winry' said from him, content with the muteness, day quiet other then the gurgles from the ocean. In this situation I could not help but wonder what he was thinking, his eyes unblinking, drops of salty water clinging to his eyelashes and speckling his pants.

It could be alchemy, perhaps? Of course; his promise, his position in the Military, his agenda, his search for the Philosopher's stone and for his limbs and Alphonse's body. And yet this glaze over his golden orbs was different than what I had observed when he would rant about the Colonel and false trails they had followed.

We caught eyes, and in that instant I realized the answer would be lost in the vastness of the world in front of us, the world where we were just two people, and suddenly it was inevitable how my eyes fixated on the water's show and my mind relax and wonder.

On this day we both learned something about ourselves, but never spoke of it for there was nothing to be spoken of out loud, as it would mangle with other's opinions, and we knew exactly what to do with the thought without them speaking.

And he proved this fact to me when he latched his hand around my own, strong and worn fingertips brushing over mine.

The only audience to this movement, however, was the spiraling waves, molding history before us.