Chapter Text
Pinako Rockbell – 1899-1900
It wasn’t that they weren’t expecting the baby. It was more that, like most members of the family, Elric babies thrived off disorder, and surprise.
Trisha and Hohenheim’s firstborn came on an unseasonably warm October morning an entire week before they were expected. One moment the Elric’s and the Rockbell’s were gathered to celebrate the harvest (a little later than usual, but they had had to wait for Sara’s little Winry to get over a late summer cold), and then the next, six daemons were scurrying out of the way of six people frantically setting down armfuls of food on any available surface and bustling Trisha over to the couch in the living room.
Pinako thought, as she observed the mad chaos, that this was a fitting way for the son of Van Hohenheim to be born.
Hohenheim, his hand crushed between Trisha’s fingers, thought differently, but no one was asking him.
Trisha’s labor lasted twelve hours (during which, Winry had been passed around, shushed, fed, and bounced by almost everyone; Theodore had second-guessed every name he’d considered for the baby’s daemon; Urey had assured both expecting parents that yes all of this is completely normal; and Pinako and Sara had traded the responsibility of making a pot of tea every hour on the hour). Then, in under three minutes, suddenly the baby was born kicking and screaming, just as Pinako had expected, his daemon clutched tightly to his little chest.
Trisha and Hohenheim named the baby Edward Elric.
Vinny and Theodore named his daemon Dinah.
And things were quiet for a while. Well, as quiet as Edward and Dinah allowed them to be, which, again, quite expectedly, was not much. Pinako had taken to accompanying her son on Urey’s trips to check up on the youngest Elric expressly because of what a hellion little Dinah was turning out to be. Before Edward could even think of walking, his little daemon had taken to getting caught underfoot in a way that Pinako could only assume was on purpose. For one thing, newborn daemons were never as ambulatory as Dinah – who, at a few months was already able to get three feet away from Edward – and for another, her favored spotted skunk form was hardly large enough to take up more space in a doorway than a snow leopard could.
Privately, Pinako thought Dinah enjoyed watching people swerve so dramatically to avoid her. And in her daemon Isolde’s opinion it was the most entertaining show in Risembool. Neither of them could wait to see what kind of child matched such a daemon.
Frankly, it was because Dinah’s hobby was so entertaining that Isolde noticed at all.
It wasn’t unheard of for a baby daemon to wait a few months before they truly began to experiment with forms (Winry’s Timur hadn’t tried to shift until Winry started crawling) so, in the beginning, it was not concerning that Dinah stayed a skunk. Pinako had never been “that kind of doctor”, but her family’s tenure as Risembool’s only physicians had made them…if not qualified, then at least knowledgeable about abnormalities in the development of daemons. Thus far the souls of the few babies that she and her Isolde had attended had all been fragile little things that changed shape like liquids.
“It’s possible she’s just shy about it.” Isolde suggested one afternoon while they were cooking. She swung from atop the cabinets to the kitchen counter next to Pinako. “I was, remember?”
Pinako did. It was hard not too, because it was one of the many things they had been teased for when they were younger, and her tongue was less sharp. Though she distinctly remembered the children only continued to needle them because Isolde, overwhelmed and embarrassed, would transform into big unwieldy forms that always felt wrong just so that they would stop.
She did not think she’d seen Dinah shift form once.
“It’s not only that,” she said, considering more of the little oddities she’d observed. “They’re only six months old, and Dinah already moves and talks as though she’s at least a year.”
Isolde shrugged with both her shoulders and tail. “They’re going to be advanced for their age, it happens.”
“Hm, sounds unsubstantiated at best. Timur hasn’t even begun to move away from Winry like Dinah has.”
Isolde chuckled, “Pinako, they are only six months old; give it some time.”
However, by the time Edward’s first birthday was approaching, and the young boy had taken to walking with as much enthusiasm as he had taken to everything else, it became clear that Dinah had no intention of shifting at all.
It was bad form for a person to speak to a daemon that was not their own, particularly without some kind of permission beforehand even if said person was a child (actually, especially if), so Pinako asked Isolde to do the work for her. Isolde’s interest in the young Elric’s daemon had only grown since their initial conversations about her, and apparently, amongst the daemons of Risembool it had become quite the little bit of gossip.
“Theodore talked to Hohenheim about it,” Isolde reported, when Pinako asked. “So, he knows, but he and Trisha don’t seem too concerned.”
“Suddenly the expert on daemons as well as alchemy, eh?” she hummed. With a deft hand she began filling her pipe with tobacco, sensing this conversation wasn’t going in a direction she’d like.
Isolde snorted, “Theodore mentioned something cryptic about old souls that sounded like complete bullshit. But Hohenheim isn’t a bad father – Dinah and Edward have been completely healthy apart from this.”
Pinako struck a match. “Yes, well, if they know something I’m not letting this go until I get a straight answer. New parents are hardly ever the best judges.”
“Urey did think Winry had managed to sever herself the first time Timur turned into a fly,” Isolde conceded.
Pinako finally got her answer the next time she followed Urey for one of Edward’s checkups. Trisha’s daemon, Vinny, sat beside them while Urey and Toulouse checked the little boy over. “Dinah’s already settled,” he said.
Isolde’s fur stood on end, fluffing the spider monkey up to twice her usual size. “They’re barely a year old!” she hissed.
“She was born settled.” Vinny curled his tail around his front paws. He eyed both her and her daemon critically. “It’s rare, yes, but Theo and Van said they’ve known a handful of daemons like Dinah,” he paused, “and me.”
Pinako looked down at him. The tip of his tail, and his whiskers twitched as though he were suppressing the nonexistent urge to groom himself. “Then you know why she’s settled?”
“She just…already decided who she was.”
Pinako didn’t understand why that explanation would be any clearer than none at all, which, if his lashing tail was any indicator, Vinny seemed to notice. The brown-and-white daemon sighed. “There’s more to Edward and Dinah than, well, than Edward and Dinah.” He hissed. “There’s more of them out there, like how Theodore and Hohenheim and Trisha are more of me. It’s that part of him that’s been settled.”
Isolde attempted to press a franker explanation form Vinny, but she could tell that the cat had nothing more to say on the matter. Nothing he was willing to share anyway. But, Pinako was content to light her pipe, lean back, and let Isolde keep trying anyway.
From her position at the kitchen table, she could see into the Elric’s main living space, and watched, thoughtfully, as Theodore darted forward to scoop Dinah up in his jaws before Urey could trip over her.
Pinako had another year to consider the idea of pre-settled daemons.
On the topic of souls, people spoke very little openly. Even most physicians were under the impression that, so long as a daemon showed no outward signs of distress, there was no need to consider them in patient care. Of course, everyone knew that daemons had no need for food, or rest, or any real grooming. And that, though they might mimic the behavior of whatever animal form they took, that was all it was. Mimicry. Daemons were physical manifestations of, as far as anyone could tell, a very metaphysical concept, and most people decided to leave it at that. After all, for one excuse or another, it was rude to discuss souls with others. It was personal, private.
Even Pinako had to admit that she also rarely considered a patients daemon in most matters. Everything about them, apart from shape, appeared so uniform it frankly irked her to think that this was by coincidence. Dinah (and Vinny too apparently) pointed to something larger – the idea that daemons and their development could be affected by forces outside of their humans was… Well, she couldn’t quite decide if it was more interesting or disturbing. Either way, as one of Edward’s primary doctors, she felt a duty to put in the effort, to at least see if this was something that would affect the ways he’d need to be treated, and this she knew Hohenheim and Theodore had no way of knowing.
Alchemists and doctors, while of similar stock, were not the same after all.
Eventually, she decided to consult some actual literature on the subject, even while Isolde kept her campaign of badgering Theodore and Vinny for more details. There was a chance, however slim, that it was common enough that at least one publication on early child development had to have been written on it. There were doctors who specialized in abnormal daemon care, and in general scientists were a relatively shameless bunch – it wasn’t beyond reason to hope that someone somewhere had decided to break social taboo for the sake of discovery. However…
If she had one complaint about the state of the medical community it was that not enough people were generalists nowadays. Herself included. Unfortunately.
“Daemons don’t need surgery.”
Isolde looked up from her consideration of the small pile of letters and manuscripts that their colleagues had thoughtfully provided – not that a single one of them had bothered to organize their contributions sensibly. It had taken a while to amass even this much, since many of her acquaintances from her apprenticeship had found themselves scattered around the continent. “We knew that,” her daemon said.
Pinako huffed and scooped up the letter closest to her. “‘I don’t know what it is you’re researching Pinako,’” she read, “‘but I’ve performed near thirty automail surgeries and I can tell you daemons aren’t affected at all by automail surgery regardless of the age of the recipient.’ As if that were even the question I’d asked! Every one, same thing! It’s infuriating!”
Isolde hummed. “Well…they’re not wrong?”
“And look at this one,” Pinako continued, brandishing another letter – this one from a cousin she’d trained alongside when he was first starting his apprenticeship, “’…though you are no doubt already aware of this, the only portion of surgery that affects daemons is the anesthesia that is occasionally required during the amputation process…’ I taught this man everything he knows!”
Isolde did nothing but hum again and gently pry the sheaf of papers from Pinako’s hand before they were damaged too irreparably. “It’s not that bad,” she said.
“It might as well be.”
“Well, it’s not like many people would even think to ask something so rude anyway. And you didn’t tell them what you were getting at.”
“Yes, why would an automail surgeon need to know anything unless it pertains to automail surgery? I know.” Pinako felt a headache beginning in her temples. “Half of them told me I needed to get on better terms with some military dogs if I expected to get anywhere.” And didn’t that just rub her entirely the wrong way. “As though condoning the actions of the state in any way just to get access to material that should already be freely accessible is somehow…” She tossed her hands into the air with a growl of frustration. “What’s the point of a restricted library?”
“There isn’t one,” Isolde said, though it sounded more like she was placating her at this point, which Pinako did not appreciate. “But you’re more pissed because none of them had anything other than surgical journals to reference.”
She was right, but she was her soul. And Pinako wasn’t trying to hide anything. Especially not from herself.
Instead of responding, she took out her pipe.
“We’re worried.” Isolde stated when she turned her attention more to her smoking than her correspondence. “We’re trying.”
“What did settling feel like to you?”
Isolde froze. Pinako continued to pack more tobacco than was strictly necessary into her pipe.
It had never really occurred to her to ask Isolde what settling had felt like. Not really. It was just far enough in the past now that it was difficult for her to remember what she had felt about it much less Isolde. She knew she hadn’t asked though.
Maybe that had been a mistake. Inconsiderate. Isolde had certainly never accused her of being that before, but it never occurred to Pinako that they might ever not be on the same page about something either.
Isolde’s tail twitched, and Pinako knew then that she was thinking frozen rather than truly startled. Channeling all her concentration to giving a thorough response that she stopped moving.
“I wasn’t happy about it,” she said eventually. “I wasn’t mad about it either. It just felt like something that had needed to happen. Like when you stretch first thing in the morning because you don’t in your sleep and your back pops. It wasn’t right, because I wasn’t wrong before that, but it needed to happen. And it felt more comfortable than shifting into some of the forms I’d taken. Relieving.”
“So, you don’t think not shifting is distressing for Dinah?”
“Well…it’s not like she can settle twice.”
The Elric’s second son arrived with much less fanfare than his brother, though the pregnancy itself had been a surprise.
The Rockbell house was shaken awake early by Theodore heaving his entire bulk against their front door and yelling for “Urey, Sara, anyone!” loud enough to alert the whole town. Certainly, it was loud enough to wake Winry, who quickly got to throwing what sounded like quite a spectacular tantrum from another room.
Naturally, Pinako was the one who tumbled out of bed first. She scraped herself together as fast as could be expected for a woman of her age, only bothering to throw on her coat and glasses, before shambling to the front door.
“Alright, alright!” she yelled, heaving the door open as hard as she was able. It banged against wall hard enough to dent it, but it was worth seeing Theodore back up. “Yowling isn’t going to make it come any faster!”
Theodore was alone. Despite knowing them for almost thirty years it was still disconcerting to see just how far the daemon could wander from Hohenheim. Even knowing perfectly well he was nowhere, she still looked for the hulking blonde man instinctively as Theodore paced the length of their porch, tail lashing.
“If Trisha just went into labor then I highly doubt she’s going to pop in five minutes Theodore,” Isolde grunted, swiping boldly at the other daemon’s flank. “It won’t kill you to calm down.”
“It might,” he huffed. But he stopped wearing a groove in the wood.
Sara appeared first, blue eyes still bleary with sleep. Her daughter-in-law had clearly rushed straight downstairs, as she’d managed to put a sweater on backwards over her nightgown. “When did her contractions start?” she asked, stuffing a stray stethoscope into a bag at her hip. “How far apart are they?”
“About an hour ago,” he said, with the air of a soldier delivering a field report, “but they were already six minutes apart by the time I left.”
Pinako hummed. “Faster than Edward was; not unexpected.”
“Yes, yes, ‘every birth is different’ you’ve said,” Theodore hissed. “Regardless, I would feel much better if Hohenheim wasn’t in danger of delivering a baby by himself.”
Pinako rather thought that if push came to shove (no pun intended) Trisha would handle the whole thing rather admirably herself. Still, now that Sara was there they wasted little more time and started at a brisk pace down the chilly country road.
It was so early a dense mist still hugged the ground, obscuring the dirt path between the two homesteads. Theodore was just tall enough for the gray dawn light to reflect off his white pelt and make him visible through the fog. Handy, considering he kept pacing far ahead of them despite the brisk jog they were keeping.
The mist had fully sunk into Pinako’s bones by the time they arrived, and the sun still hadn’t risen. It was frankly a relief to step into the Elric’s living room where a fire had been warming the house through for quite some time.
A relief despite Edward making high little distressed baby noises, Dinah’s similarly nervous squeaks, and Trisha swearing up a storm from her position on the couch.
A relief for Hohenheim too it seemed. She’d never seen him look so grateful as when she offered to take Edward so he could let Trisha crush his hand in a white-knuckled grip. She’d also never seen a baby look so grateful to be held by someone else, but her shushing still didn’t quite stop his nervous noises.
Despite the tension, Alphonse and Pryderi came wailing into the world less than an hour later in, as far as childbirth was concerned, a very well-organized and no-nonsense fashion.
It certainly set the tone for Alphonse. As far as newborns went, he was less fussy than either Edward or Winry had been, much quieter too. Not that that stopped Pryderi from being the loudest thing any of them had ever heard when his other half was hungry, but overall both he and Alphonse were shaping up to be quite the even-tempered pair.
Pinako and Isolde watched Pryderi far closer than was considered polite.
Social niceties be damned Pinako was determined to catalogue Pryderi’s development in a way she never got to do with Dinah before it was too late. Was it obsessive? Perhaps. That said, they were convinced there was something to be discovered here, something very few (if any) people were concerned with, and even if she didn’t have the connections Pinako could damn well start making some sources of her own.
That first night Pryderi didn’t shift. Pinako cursed not having a wider data pool to make the significance of this easier to grasp, but it was what it was. Pryderi didn’t shift the first night, but he also didn’t look completely solid on the first night either. The newborn daemon shimmered a bit around the edges, as though the little fruit bat he’d been born as wasn’t quite finished.
“Do you remember the night Timur was born?”
Toulouse blinked. “Pardon?”
Pinako saw Urey pause in the middle of changing Winry’s diaper. The four of them had spent most of the day entertaining Winry in different spots around the living room, mostly encouraging the little girl to try her hand at toddling around. She had taken Winry’s bathroom break as an excuse to make herself a cup of coffee; Isolde, apparently, as an excuse to do research. Her son met her eye, a question brewing in his gaze. Pinako ignored him, in favor of the cup of coffee – if he was curious he could eavesdrop.
Isolde puffed up a little, aware of Urey’s scrutiny but continued. “The night they were born? Do you remember what Timur looked like?” Casually, her daemon reached forward to groom imaginary imperfections from Toulouse’s coat.
Toulouse and Urey had a short range by most standards. With Isolde grooming him and Urey in the middle of something considerably less pleasant, Toulouse couldn’t move without putting more strain on their bond than was probably comfortable. Isolde continued her ministrations, unrepentant.
“What’s this about, mom?”
Pinako regarded Urey over the lip of her mug. He looked tired, like all doctors, yet knowing, like all parents. It struck her how proud of him she was, though she doubted she’d ever get in the habit of saying so.
“Research,” she said, finally. “If you don’t remember just say so.”
He sighed. “This is about Edward and Dinah.”
Since he obviously knew the answer already, she said nothing.
Toulouse relaxed a bit with the transparency. “He was a bullfrog, great pair of lungs on him,” he said.
“Yes, but what did he look like?” Isolde backed off a bit, swinging up onto Pinako’s shoulder instead to regard both human and daemon. “Was he solid?”
“Was he solid?”
“He shimmered a bit,” Urey cut in. He hefted a freshly cleaned Winry into his arms, the daemon in question (definitely solid) clinging to her back in the shape of a possum. “Like he does when he’s shifting. I assume it’s because he couldn’t settle but also couldn’t quite shift yet either.”
Interesting. Like Pryderi then.
“Did Dinah do the same thing?”
Urey shrugged. “I assume so. I know she doesn’t shift much in the first place, but…” He bounced Winry as he thought. “Edward was also more colicky than either Winry or Al have been. I think it’s about varying degrees of normal.”
It wasn’t her place to mention what Vinny had told her regarding Dinah already being settled, so she didn’t.
That Urey thought there could be varying degrees of normalcy involving daemons was telling, she supposed. Her son was a good doctor, a good surgeon (she raised him well) so she didn’t think that he’d come to this conclusion because he didn’t think daemons mattered in treatment. But the fact that he hadn’t noticed that Dinah was settled already said something about how much he was paying attention.
He could be right. He probably was in a way. Varying degrees of normal was a good way to go about patients. But…
She was born settled.
Something told Pinako that Dinah hadn’t shimmered a day in her life.
It took three months for Pinako to witness Pryderi change forms. She’d been left to watch the children so their parents could round up a whole coop of escaped chickens before a storm rolled in. As amusing as it was to see a housecat attempt to herd a distressed rooster twice his size, both Winry and Edward had finally managed walking and she recognized that keeping the two from hitting their heads on a table should take priority.
Reluctantly, she tore herself away from the scene just in time to witness Edward grip the edge of a couch and haul himself clumsily along its length, Dinah hopping at his heels. And Pryderi, from his vantage in one of the many cribs in the Elric house, shimmered from fruit bat to spotted skunk in the blink of an eye.
“So,” Isolde said, “is it enough to rule out genetic predisposition then?”
Pinako sighed, then hurried into action before Edward could hurt himself.