#fire like sunlight and morning mist || flameleads

[shiroi---kumo]

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ He's content to listen with one arm tucked up under his head as Eversti - Roy explains and he has no idea how much like Usva he sounds. Wise beyond his years all because of the command of one flickering flame but it's true what Eversti says. There's no way his flames are born in the same way as Isoveli's were because a human had no Soul's Breath to harness... and that alone is leading his friend into questions.

At least he accepted his apology this time instead of giving him the broken record sound of rejecting it.

He's also giving an apology of his own - letting him know that the stress of not knowing where his children are is what bubbled over and caused the explosion in the town. He can remember but he can't remember well. Everything is hazy honestly and he can only assume that's part of the side effects of losing another fragment of one's soul.

He's tired but he needs to stay awake for a little while longer just to make sure everything settles back to the way it should but in reality? He's really just scared that if he falls asleep, that he won't wake up again. Saying anything else is just a convenient excuse.

"Apology accepted." There is a faint smile on tired lips while he listens to the Amestrian's next questions.

What is Soul's Breath and what other elements there are. What other kinds of Mist existed? Has he explained any of this to Eversti yet? No, he doesn't suppose he has. He knows he explained it to Miss Riza though - for some reason he thought he had already. Oh well - no matter.

"You know what Soul's Breath is, but I suppose I might have not called it by that name to you yet." He sounds letting a small puff of white escape his lips and roll into the air. "It is another name for our Mist. Our Mist is born of our very souls so we often refer to it as our Soul's Breath. Does that make sense?"

A small smile is creeping onto his lips as exhaustion hangs on his features and he keeps his head propped up with his arm.

"As for elements, one could command fire, thunder, air or the wind, water and ice, defensive, support or healing spells, the ground, gravity and also spells of buffing your comrades."

Slowly he's dragging himself up off the ground again to half way set up as he lets his mind try to dig through what he has and has not told this man and that is when he realizes the last time they were discussing anything about Misterica he went as red as his father's hair and the rest of the conversation is missing from his mind. They had been talking about medical and then he can remember getting very tired. It's mostly blank after that.

Perhaps he should talk to Cid about these memory lapses?

"As a I said before, the element one could command was all based the color of one's Mist. You see we do not command outside elements to create or power our spells. They are completely contained by inward energy and powered by our Mist. Not every could do it but those that could we referred to as Mist Mythics.

We were all born as every color of the sateenkaari - " he pauses as he tries to remember whether or not he's said that word to his friend or not so instead he's raising his hands and wiggling his fingers as he lowers them as if to mimic what he's trying to explain.

"The spectrum of colors that show up in the sky sometimes after it rains? Forgive me, I can never remember the Wonderlandian word for such a thing. Regardless, my people were born in every hue and shade one could possibly imagine - every color except White and Black. I was the only Misterican to ever be born of this color. I was a bit special for a Misterican.

But my brother's mist was Red, as was my father's. Helakanpunainen Aurinko. You would have called father, Scarlet Sun. Mother was the most beautiful purple color. Ametisti Kuu, her name would translate to Amethyst Moon in your tongue. My teachers were every color in the sateenkaari except for green. However my personal bodyguard- Revon - was a Misterican of that color.

Much like my mist causes whoever inhales it to fall to slumber, every color had it's own effects. Red could paralyze a person and Purple could heal. Revon was assigned his position not just because of his great skill but because green Mist was toxic. He could have killed a man with his breath if I had fallen to too much danger.

Blue mist could slow down a person's internal systems and yellow could confuse. Silver charmed and orange could temporary silence the voice. Pink mist was capable of causing temporary blindness and brown mist could render the poor soul who inhaled it to stone. Same colors were unaffected by each other and I was unaffected by them all. This is why my sumunaamio - my mask is so common place to me."

He's pausing again, the events from before still hazy in his mind but the name Sumi standing out amidst the fog.

"That is why Cid calls my mask Sumi. He got it from the Misterican word 'Sumu', which can mean Mist or Fog depending on its placement in our tongue. Does this make sense? Sorry it seems I got a little carried away."

To get ahead in society, Roy learned to be just the right amount of himself depending on the situation. Madame Christmas taught him well. Among ordinary soldiers, he needed to be calm and reposed while also charismatic—the leader people gravitated toward. On dates, he could slip in hints of himself here and there, but he resembled more of a mirror than anything else. At work? It all depended on what reaction he needed to garner from certain parties. Being “too much” threw others off his scent when, in reality, he played a more cunning game. 

He always needed to think two or three steps ahead—at least in Amestris. Toning himself down, or just right, was part of his life. With White Cloud, he endeavored to be more of himself. Friends did that sort of thing with each other, right? He and Hughes did that anyway. They didn’t hold back when it was just the two of them. No games, no alternate agendas: just two men who could talk about their favorite quiche, Elicia, and what was bothering them all in the same day without judgment.

White Cloud likely didn’t trust him that much yet. They didn’t know each other for that long, after all, and their first encounter was less than ideal. However, Roy found his attention rapt as White Cloud spoke of his family, Punainen Usva in particular. His name translated to Red Mist like White Cloud’s did from… what? He never said, and, being the polite man that he was, Roy didn’t ask. It felt like an invasion of privacy to pry that much. Would asking now be different? He still needed to tread carefully, and White Cloud was exhausted. More emotional strain didn’t need to happen.

Maybe later… when the two of them weren’t in the middle of a goddamn forest. For now, he could focus on Usva. White Cloud spoke about him with such care and reverence that was difficult to miss. He loved his brother, and that feeling had to be mutual. Yet, why he reminded White Cloud of Usva became readily apparent: fire. Both of them tamed an element known for its wildness, keeping their loved ones far away from it as much as possible. Slowly, Roy nodded his head to show he listened.

Yes indeed, the two of them were much alike. 

“Usva and I have that in common,” he agreed, “In Amestris, I’m doing everything I can to ensure no one can ever control it. Fire is dangerous, destructive, and wild. I’ve wielded its power for a good portion of my life now.” Roy paused as he flexed the fingers of his right hand, the glove safely in his pocket. The scar from the Third Laboratory was faint on top of his hand, but he could still see traces of it. “Alchemists can wield the elements to a degree. It’s nowhere near the same as what Mistericans can do, but I imagine it takes the same amount of studying and practice. Even then, I’m the only one with the full knowledge of how to perform flame alchemy, and I intend to keep it that way.”

He let out a sigh. One of the only benefits of being in these goddamn woods was the fresh air. The Comodeen was stifling and a bit too reminiscent of a command center. It wasn’t like a city he could roam. Cities in Wonderland… did they exist? One person alone could generate only so much despair. Together, people could generate more. Huddled together in places like cities—perfect recipes for despair, hopelessness, and suffering. For kindling. 

Weren’t they the same?

“How long before he starts to see you like everyone else does, Mustang?” The voice in his mind stayed quiet for a while, but of course it chimed in when it saw the opportunity. “Or he starts to see you as no different than this Chaos? You’re both destroyers of homes.” 

At least one of them was more forthright about it, he supposed. Roy’s gaze stayed toward the ground, his tone heavy as he continued to speak. 

“I can’t speak for Usva, but what I can say is that when you’re called upon to fight, and you have to use fire, it changes you. When I first learned how to use flame alchemy, I’ll admit that I was full of myself—more than I am now. I thought I could do anything. The fact that I could hold fire in my hand was nothing short of incredible to me, never mind what else I could do with it. What started out as something beautiful turned into nightmare fuel.” Again, he found himself flexing his fingers. It was a nervous habit, he supposed. “I don’t know what Usva’s reasons were since I didn’t know him, but, as someone who knows fire like I do, maybe he didn’t want you to know its destructive side. If I had to guess, he just wanted to keep you safe.” 

Letting a heavy sigh leave his lips once more, Roy shrugged his shoulders. Who was he kidding? Misterican culture was incredibly different from his own. Usva undoubtedly had different reasons that related back to teachings Roy didn’t know but White Cloud did. Or, maybe he was just stubborn. If someone could learn all of the elements, wouldn’t that be a great opportunity to teach them? Wouldn’t that be nothing short of miraculous? He was considered special among his people, so why would Usva refuse to teach him except out of stubbornness? 

He didn’t know. At least with Edward and Alphonse, he had precedent for not teaching them. Edward knew firsthand as well. It saved their lives, but—

“Don’t think about it,” he cut himself off before the thought wandered too far, even shaking his head as if to cut the thought loose. He took a few deep breaths before he looked back to White Cloud. Was… was that why he apologized? Again? It was pointless to tell him not to, leading Roy to simply nod his head at his new friend. 

“It’s all right. If anything, I should be apologizing to you for not controlling my anger well too. I let myself get worked up when we were back in that village that I yelled at you, and that wasn’t appropriate of me. It’s not your fault that I don’t know where my boys are. I guess I was just looking for someone to lay into, and you were a convenient target. I’m sorry I let that happen.” He shook his head once again. “If you’re insisting on staying awake, I do have a couple of questions. Like what Soul’s Breath is and what the other elements were. And what other kinds of Mist existed. There’s a lot I don’t know… but I’d like to.”

[shiroi---kumo]

@Flameleads [ X ] || There is a discussion of the Kings

Eversti says - no Roy says he can trust him. Miss Riza is just the same. It's going to take some adjustment to stop calling him Eversti when he'd been so strict about it beforehand. He understands the idea behind it though. They can't be equals, if he's always addressing the man by proper rank and not by name, all the time. It's always been different with him because he's always had them address him by name - even if the name he gave them was really nothing more than a translation.

It counts though right? Maybe they'll get to the point one day that he gives them in his name in his native tongue but for now he doesn't think it necessary for them to have to deal with the mouthful that was Valkoinen Pilvi.

But this moves them into new territory because Ever - Roy says he's willing to help in any way possible, even if that means explaining Amestrian Alchemy or doing whatever he can. He just - refuses how to control the hellfire that Miss Riza's father created and honestly the Misterican Prince finds himself without a desire to learn such a thing anyway. It would have been more up Usva's alley and Brother already knew how to control his own hellfire.

If he were going to learn how to control the flames then he would much rather spend the time to attempt to master them through his Mist even if that meant he would have to deal with the recoils of when he inevitably messed it up due the mismatched nature of the required Mist's colors. This could have been avoided if Brother had not been so stubborn and just taught him himself but No, the elder Misterican had refused to teach his little brother anything of the sort while he was still alive.

He supposes that means both he and Evest - Roy have things to learn then, because if the man before him can control in his Mist in any facet he still wants to know how and why. He still needs to understand how this human managed to bring about his death even if he had been injured at the time and even if it was completely accidental.

So his hands are gripping at the mug within his grip for the moment, only to pause his thoughts for the time being and trade them out with the soothing sensation of a warm liquid coating his throat. He's had just about enough of breakdowns and panic attacks today. Both sides of the situation has had their emotions stirred around like a bubbling pot and the contents were just as rancid as Black Wind's cooking.

He knows the man says he'll do whatever it takes and he's willing to teach whatever he's able but what is he willing to learn? Being ready to learn about Wonderland is not being ready to learn about Mist and bluntly put he still doesn't know if this man can even channel such a thing being a being of soil at his core. Wouldn't that be a miracle? A being of Soil commanding Mist itself? He supposes he shouldn't be too surprised, he's already done it once. It could have been a fluke though, and he needs to know more.

What he needs is Cid to restore his mask to him, so he can get on with these lessons because not one person in the entirety of the Comodeen will let him go through with the little scheme that twisting around in that head of his without it. Cid might not let him do it at all and well what Black Wind doesn't know won't hurt him because he highly doubts his Other will be pleased if he tells him that he has full intention to recreate the scenario of his death in order to try to figure out how this Amestrian Soldier managed to activate his Mist.

It should have been impossible, unless there was something else at play. Could it have been with the way that Ev - Roy can manipulate the oxygen levels in the air? Even if it he can't actually control his Mist but he can do that - well that could prove to be quite problematic in battle if he can't keep track of how much of an explosive charge is behind the Mist he's allowed to seep into the air. It could create charges he has no control over or ones that he isn't prepared for and as Revon used to tell him while he was growing up -

'A Knight who cannot control their magic should never take the initiative to cast. An out of control spell can be twice as devasting as one cast by a Master of their craft but that is only because its wielder cannot bring its destruction to a halt.'

He might have trained in the ways of a knight when he was growing up but they practiced safety before all else. Mistericans still believed in Life over All after all, so that meant theirs too. There was no space for out of control spells or unruly behavior.

"Ever - Roy - Forgive me, this is going to take some adjustment. Regardless, there is a matter I wish to discuss with you but I fear you are not going to give me a favorable response. I need to know how you commanded my Mist. It should have been impossible for one such as yourself to do so, and by that I do not mean human, but instead a being of Soil.

I think it's important that you understand the basic building blocks of the universe, and by that being Soil and Mist. Black Wind is what is known by both his people and mine as a Soil Mage. I am what is known as a Mist Mythic, meaning we both can command these elements to cast spells and summon beasts to our aid.

Black Wind's arsenal far exceeds my own, but that is merely due to the nature of Soil as a whole. Where as Mist is my breath, and it is born of me - Soil is the crystalized souls of the dead. The vast army Black Wind commands is created through the temporary resurrection of previous Windarians and other species alike.

All beings are made of one of these two elements at their core. All beings except for Chaos. I think you see why I would like you to understand these building blocks at this point. Fighting Chaos is not a 'fight fire with fire' situation. The only thing this will serve to accomplish is more fire and the destruction of everything around it, therefore only further feeding Chaos. "

He sighs and shifts taking a moment to take a long sip from the mug in his hands before he returns it to the table before him. His shoulders raise and drop as he readjusts his posture and sighs again.

"I owe you both, a proper explanation. I only mentioned such a thing in passing to Miss Riza, not thinking about what was coming out of my mouth and in doing so I caused her much distress. I apologize. To you Ever- Roy I never not explained such a thing at all, and I owe it to you to explain just what the beast you're agreeing to do battle with is.

Chaos feeds on the negative emotions of living beings, but in my time observing it, I have come to learn that even attempting to suppress said emotions does little to prevent Chaos from getting what it wants. We are living beings and suppressing our emotions is impossible. I have come to learn that it is Chaos who should be punished and not the beings who are merely expressing themselves in the only way they know how.

While it is true that Chaos feeds on negative emotions, and it uses the power it creates from them to destroy - there's nothing we can do to prevent this cycle. The only thing I have found to do to strike back at Chaos in this function is to simply process my emotions and work through them so I don't continue to stew in my misery. I promise this when I say this, but there is nothing Chaos hates more than how strongly my heart loves.

So please don't try to shut your hearts down, simply due to the nature of our enemy. We just try to mend and repair strife wherever possible.

As for what I was speaking of before. One's soul is either comprised of Soil or Mist. There is no such thing as both as they are opposing energies. Soil is toxic to me, as I'm sure Mist can be quite damaging to Black Wind in ways we have yet to find out. Soil however, devours my mist and it burns my skin. So we have to be careful when we enter combat.

This is what I meant when I said Black Wind and I were inverted twin souls. A Commander of Soil and a Master of Mist. Aren't we quite a pair? Regardless, as a being of Soil, you should not have been able to have any agency over the command of my Mist. Mist is born of the being it comes from and only they can command it. So upon the return of my mask to me, I wish to recreate the conditions of my death.

I need to see exactly what you did in order to activate, and worry not - I will remain masked the entire time and with my hearing intact I will be able to contain the blast that should come from such an action with ease. You however have every right to refuse me. Still, if you can command my Mist at all, then I wish to teach you how to command it properly to avoid further incidents in the future. "

[shiroi---kumo]

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ There's a sigh as his shoulders shift, dropping for a moment and then then raising again. The Engineer pulls out a chair across from the elder man and motions him for to set back down.

"I'd like to talk to you in private before we go to see them, if that's alright. They're both a wreck and I don't want to upset them further than they already are."

Chair legs slide out as the blond takes a seat before folding his hands in front of himself, elbows resting on the table's surface. There is a look of both pain and confusion in indigo eyes as if he's looking for the words to start this conversation. As if this conversation is going to be as painful to say as it will be for Mr. Mustang to process.

"I know this is upsetting news, but Kain was injured again. He was attacked by something. So from the looks of him, he left the compound. I don't know why or when. All I know is Kumo brought him back practically screaming bloody murder. Both of them are a bloody mess. I won't beat around the bush on that subject for you. Kain's injuries are severe. His leg was completely dislocated and I had to forcibly put it back in socket. It's broken on top of it all.

There were what looked like claw marks dug into his shoulder and his neck. He's busted up really bad. He's lucky Kumo got to him before whatever attacked him could do anymore damage. But that's the problem. I asked Kumo about it, what attacked Kain I mean - and he said he couldn't remember."

He's shifting as he sighs, fingers lacing together while he lets the situation roll around in his mind again before continuing.

"It's not like Kumo to forget details like that. Not over something so recent and more over something he killed. We got Kain stabilized and I gave him some pain killers so he should be sleeping right now, but Kumo stayed with him regardless. I couldn't get him to leave right now, even if I wanted to. He's practically glued to his side. So don't worry, he's not alone. It's just that Kain - he asked for Hawkeye before I left so I came to find her. I figured I should get you both in all honesty. "

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ Kain won't just sleep for him like he asked, even though he can see the man's eyes practically drooping as the lays there looking his direction. He wants to know why he's sad, and eyes indicate that his friend thought he was somehow responsible.

It's not all that important really and this one precious little human should be worrying about finding rest so he may recover instead of worrying about him. Kain is injured again and he doesn't know how or why. He would have had to leave the compound and he thought he had already made it clear to him that while he appreciated the offer of assistance to find Roy's lost children earlier, he needed his friend to focus on himself before anything else.

Kain had still be on his cane after all, and the last thing the Misterican wanted was for his friend to fall into any more danger in the wilds of a place like Wonderland. It wasn't that he didn't believe in Kain's ability to do so - he was a soldier after all, so he was positive that Kain had plenty of experience by way of the concept of survival. It was that even with all the skill in the universe, if one was injured - they were injured and they needed worry about healing themself first.

Half moon eyes look over to the man laying before him and he smiles the best he can with snow colored brows remaining upturned.

"Shhh Kain, it's okay. I'm not sad. Just worried. You mean the world to me, dear friend, so I am just worried for you. So I need you to sleep now, okay? I will be here when you wake and all the time there after. "

One hand squeezes the other in his grip with a soft but tight strength for a moment, while his other - that is resting upon Kain's face rubs soothing circles with his thumb.

"Hush now, I need you to sleep, Kain." He sounds again as lips part and the smallest cloud of white rolls off them and sinks towards the floor. He's breathing out again, softly to allow more of his mist to fill the room. "You must sleep, so your body can repair. When you wake, I shall still be right here. I promise you, my friend."

Another soft exhale for a little bit more white to leave his lips and sink to the floor as a small cloud of white starts to form over it's surface.

"If you would like, if I can have my hands back for a moment, I can play you a tune if you like. Would you like some soothing music to sleep to?"

|| shiroi---kumo -> @justaradioguy -> flameleads

There's a hand pressed to his face and reassurance he'll be okay, and that Kumo won't leave him, that he hadn't left in the first place.

He doesn't want to even think about the possibility of him floating off someplace, but maybe Kumo isn't lying to him. Maybe he'll stay.

"Why're you sad?" he slurs, the frown on his face deepening as he tries to piece that together. Did Kain make him sad?

He hopes he didn't.

He's fighting the exhaustion and fog in his brain to focus on Kumo, though his muscles seem to stay relaxed against his will even as he wants to fix it.

It's difficult to even keep his eyes open, all of his remaining brainpower going towards that task alone.

He'll sleep for Kumo as soon as he figures out what's upsetting him so much. He'll be a perfect soldier again, following every order he's given with no complaint. He cannot make anyone else sad that way, surely, if he just does what everyone says.

|| shiroi---kumo -> justaradioguy -> @flameleads

[shiroi---kumo]

To Me You Are... || Accepting

@flameleads asked: " What am I?" [ from Roy ]

"Someone I trust."

[shiroi---kumo]

tag redrop 

[shiroi---kumo]

@flameleads​ is trying:  

"Y'know, I don't think Wonderland needs Halloween. It's got enough to scare people." Roy rolled his eyes before he folded his arms over his chest. "That's basically the point of the holiday for us humans, particularly the kids: scaring each other and collecting candy."

“Oooh Eversti, I see.” He sounds with a curious look on his face as brows raise and his mouth forms a small “o” . It seemed like such a strange holiday. He really doesn’t understand the point of scaring one another but the idea of candy is something that has his attention. If the humans have done one thing correctly, it’s been sweet things.  So his lips stretch out into a grin and he asks.

“What kind of candy if I can ask, Eversti? You mean other people just give it to you without question or fee? Can anyone partake in such a ritual?” 

He would like to try more of what the humans consider candy.  

[shiroi---kumo]

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ A hand in his hair and on his shoulder. Words about moving on if Black Wind can't love him - as if doing so was a simple task. The fates have cursed him to be bound to such a man. Why does he love him so desperately when he's doomed to set in the pit of the unrequited. It wasn't as if he was asking the man to be his lover. He just wanted the man to see him in the same light that he saw him in. To be ...the best of friends through all creation. They were siblings, were they not?

Why did his siblings always hate him so?

He was Tiamat reborn, as Black Wind was that of Lord Bahamut. They were soul bound siblings cast in inverted molds built from the same star. So why then -

Miss Aurora is leaving and she's saying something but he can't seem to understand what it was through all his incessant crying. Pilvi fix your face, you're making a scene. He can't stop though. He's pulling heavy sniffling breaths through his nose and only to heavy out a thick cloud of mist as he sobs. It's all caught within his arms, with the swordsman remaining face down towards the table, arms pressed against his forehead.

There's a new voice only moments later and it's mixed into the loudness of the mess hall, that he can't say he cares for. His head hurts and his face feels like it's burning. The tingling in his cheeks is no longer fun, and he wants to both sob on Black Wind and hit him in that moment - but the voice calling out to him is not that of his Other but instead his friend. It's Ever- Roy. It's Roy.

Jade eyes are looking up at onyx, wet with tears and red with irritation from all his crying as their gazes meet. There is a hard pull of air through his nose as the prince sniffles and raises sleeves too long up to his face to start trying to wipe the tears away from his face.

Really Pilvi, do you know how unbecoming you look right now? What would Father and Mother say?

"O-oh - Ev- Roy. I - I am - fine. Sorry fer -" There is a break in his words as he hiccups in almost a squeak and his eyes drop away instantly as his face only burns brighter in embarrassment. "- Anteeski."

|| shiroi---kumo -> @galeleads -> flameleads

All feelings of annoyance and self-deprecation are shoved to the wayside as soon as the tears start to fall from jade hues, "Hey, hey White Cloud..." She rises to lean across the table once more, placing a hand on his shoulder, another into his hair (Boundaries. BOUNDARIES!) The handkerchief goes unnoted as she lowers her voice to soothe him, "We're friends now. I have yer back. If there's one thing I am, it's stupidly loyal."

If anyone is staring at them, she won't pay them any mind. (Hopefully they can see the bottle on the table and rightfully ignore the rest.) "Y'saved my life, I can't ever forget that."

"And fuck that Black Wind; if he can't love ya, y'gotta move forward. Even if he's yer...soul bond... soul... bound...match!"

But reassurance can only go so far when you're battling the beast of drunken thoughts. (He's certainly not fairing too well.) After a moment or two, she lifts her hand to grab White Cloud's now empty cup, "I think we're good for tonight, lemme just..." and she instantly drops it to the ground with a clunk. "Whoopsie." Eyes dart back from the cup to the Mistercian, "Let me go getcha water. Stay put, okay? I'll be back in a minute."

Where's Mar? She should be drinking some. No, better not disturb her. She doesn't have to see Aurora acting so foolishly. (As if her wobbling back and forth wasn't bringing enough attention.) So, instead, she grabs the attention of a man sitting a few tables away, "Hey there, where are yer water rations 'round here? I need'em for my friend-" Though the shoulder she taps wasn't one she was expecting, if at all.

Emeralds lack their lustrous hue as they stare right back into onyx. There's a brief moment where her eyes and her brain have yet to catch up with one another. And once it does, her breath hitches, letting out a small, "Oh, you've GOT to be kidding me, y'motherfucker."

She staggers back, attempting with what little attention span she had left to decide what she wanted to do. Was it worth screaming and crying, falling apart at the seams now that she knew Roy'd allow it? Or what if she yelled, demanding he'd tell her exactly where he's been?

Neither was an option because she had a mission. In the greatest act of selflessness (that she can conjure up at the present moment), Aurora raises her arms forward in front of her, "WAIT! Pause. Delay. I know yer type. Y'useless with water." There's a smirk on her lips as if the joke was original and so so funny (and it's enough to distract her from buried emotions.) "I'll find someone else. I'll be back fer you-" she lightly taps his nose with her finger, "-later!"

And like the switch of a light, she swivels on her heels, bellowing. "Does someone have water??"

`@flameleads -> @shiroi---kumo

[shiroi---kumo]

Character Tag Drop:    At Your Side Forever I will Be || Kazeofthemagun

She held my hand as we walked || Hawksights 

As long as this heart beats you won’t be alone || Angcrmanagcmcnt 

Fire that burns like sunlight and Morning Mist || Flameleads

**please remember Character tags come from Kumo’s POV and they are his words and his thoughts. If your muse is not on here he probably needs more time to get to know them or he hasn’t found the right words yet 

[shiroi---kumo]

Time for Hugs

You find Roy Mustang like this. What do you do?

[shiroi---kumo]

Miss Riza can at least read enough cues to back off but not enough to stop. He doesn't blame her. He doesn't blame for the push to know more concerning the children's safety and he doesn't blame for the push for information. To inquire was only natural and he would have been doing it too if he was in the position of any of the Amestrians.

But his shoulders stay rigid and his arms remain crossed over his chest and the discomfort he is feeling continues to stick to his skin like glue.

"I can't say for sure." He sounds with tension in his voice. "Any who still worship His Excellency are hardly what I would consider in their right mind. It all depends on how Eversti's children interact with them should they run into any from Gaudium. That beast has little tolerance for any who would bark against him and he - "

There is a hand coming down on the swordsman's shoulder and a strange look crossing the face of the engineer. He smiles at the Misterican and lets out a small embarrassed sounding chuckle.

"Kumo, I - I haven't had the time to eat anything all day. Would it be too much trouble if you went and fetched something for me? Anything at all. I'm not picky."

Snow colored brows are raising in confusion as jade eyes look the man over and a look of half annoyance crosses his face before he can say much more than the mechanic's name.

"Cid - "

"Please." comes a near whined addition. "You don't worry about us, okay? It would be really helpful if you could do this for me. I'm drowning work, so this would just be wonderful if you could."

He's tilting his head and sighing.

"I suppose. I'll be back, Cid. Pardon me, Miss Riza."

And the Misterican letting out a sigh again before he shifts himself around to slip out of the room and down the hall.

"Thank you!" The blond is calling out after him, waiting a few moments to make sure the Misterican has had enough time to float himself away before he refocuses his attention on the Amestrian in question. All traces of the light hearted look he was previously wearing having been wiped from his features.

"I'm going to have to ask you to be a little more cautious about bringing up Gaudium in Kumo's presence. He has a complicated history with those people and The Earl and as his doctor, I would rather he not think about it too hard as it could trigger another episode. "

He sighs as he crosses his arms over his chest while a few sounds of hmmm hmm escape him. It's obvious the blond is thinking about something but instead trying find the words he's looking for to properly convey it.

"The Earl once ruled Wonderland from Gaudium's airspace and no one could get near him. Kumo worked for the Earl for a long time. A really long time and from what I've gathered in the time I've had to get to know him, I doubt it was really anything to be called working. So I would ask you and the rest of your companions to exercise some caution when speaking of Gaudium around Kumo. The last thing I want is for him to relapse on me.

As for Gaudium, it and it's followers are full of aggressive and devoted beings to Chaos. I can't say for sure what their true goal is but I would assume it is for Gaudium to once again assume power over Wonderland as it once did. If Mr. Mustang's kids run into them they could do anything from ignoring them completely or giving them serious trouble for anything they deem as upsetting the order within Wonderland. So Kumo is right to feel as pressured as he does about finding them.

They aren't safe. On top of Gaudium - Wonderland is full of monsters. We really should be trying to find any more survivors of your Amestris as soon as possible."

|| shiroi---kumo -> @flameleads -> justaradioguy

Fuery's hands were shaking. It wasn't due to cold or anxiety, but, as Roy quickly learned, anger. At him.

He can't say he blamed Fuery. Were he in his position, he would be angry too. Hell, he was angry at himself, but that wasn't a fact anyone needed to know. Thus, he moved to sit up as straight as he could, his hands knitted together on his lap, and his eyes not leaving his subordinate. Clearly, he had a few things to say, and his Commanding Officer could at least listen.

Even if he wanted to interrupt. Like hell he didn't care. But, Fuery didn't believe he did. Why? What caused him to believe that?

Would he do this to Lieutenant Hawkeye? To his sons? The nerve of bringing them up---Roy had half a mind to stop Fuery there, his posture stiffening in his seat as his gaze narrowed. He stopped himself, stilling his tongue as he glanced at his lap. Fuery had no idea what hell he put the Lieutenant through in Ishval, the sheer betrayal and hurt he caused her. What he did to her... it was unforgivable. The fact that she trusted him again continued to amaze him.

As for his boys... Fuery had no idea what happened recently, did he. How he almost lost Edward, and how it was his fault. All while in the south. It was all because of him.

The frown on his face deepened, and he kept his gaze down. He couldn't be upset that Fuery brought up his sons in this moment of anger when he didn't know. Southern Command was probably too busy to tell him about what happened. No, Fuery had every right to be upset with him for bringing up a war he sent him to---even if the Fuhrer technically gave the orders, he was still at fault. It was him poking the lion that led to Fuery fighting in a war zone.

He didn't want to fight anymore. Permanently? For now? Didn't matter. Roy couldn't make him, not after what he went through. How could he? He wasn't heartless.

"Then I won't make you." Quiet, his voice barely came out above a whisper as he brought his gaze back up to Fuery. He didn't have to sit up. That had to be exhausting. "You've done more than enough for me. I won't make you fight more of my battles. But, if you need me to, I'll fight any of yours with you. Especially against anyone who made you believe that you're not worth caring about."

Like him, Colonel Bastard---as Edward so affectionately called him.

"You have every right to be angry with me. I haven't been a good Commanding Officer to you. If there's more you want to lay into me about, I'm fine with that. But, before you do, when was the last time you ate or had something to drink? Would you like something? And if you're cold, I could find a blanket or two..."

The tension became palpable as soon as she finished speaking. Had she erred? Been too blunt? It was obvious that White Cloud wasn't comfortable with that question by the way he tensed up. She could have chosen the wrong words to say. Surely the Colonel could have phrased it better, more delicately to try and ease all parties into the situation. Unfortunately, Cid and White Cloud were stuck with her.

Her and her simple thinking. Chaos was still there, but the Earl was dead. The Earl was once Chaos. If White Cloud was at all aligned with Chaos in the past, then that was a problem that needed to be discussed. It wouldn't be a long discussion since he likely had his reasons---he seemed like the type to think things through most of the time. She only wanted to understand.

He started to explain, and some of the pieces began to fall into place. No, he didn't align himself with the Earl---who he once again called His Excellency---but he was stuck with him. The Earl's followers didn't see him as aligned with him either. He was a threat to them before just as he was now. But... Riza still felt like she missed something. White Cloud left pieces out of the puzzle. There were blank spots.

It would have to be good enough. She wasn't going to pry.

"You can count on me and the Colonel to help with that." She gave him a nod. "That's all I needed to know in that regard. I suppose my next question is will they try anything against the boys if they find them first?"

|| shiroi---kumo -> flameleads -> @justaradioguy

[shiroi---kumo]

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ He's slow to receive the bottle and unscrew the silver lid. There is a short moment while the prince takes his time to let the cool liquid inside rush down his throat. It's soothing to feel the water coating from the inside after using so much energy previously in the last confrontation, but still he finds himself exhausted - beyond exhausted and he doesn't know what else he's supposed to feel when he just held a piece of his soul so delicately in his hand. Eve- Roy says he wants to know more about his family. He says if he's up for it, he would love to learn more about him and it takes the prince a moment to process this to decide if he really does want to talk about Misterica or not. 

Roy says he doesn't have to tone it down for him. Roy says that it's okay for him to just be himself, but he doesn't know how to do anything else other than tone it down. He's had to tone himself down for other people ever since he was a child. It was long before Gaudium that he would have been toning himself down for those around him. Piipsa Sumu did not care to deal with him at his truest self and his Arkkipiipsas were the same. None of them cared much for the idea of suffering a child; even if that child was the Child of White; even if that child was Lady Tiamat's Holy Vessel himself. 

Chaos was no different. The one that Wonderland knew as one - Earl Tyrant-  would not suffer him either. He had few in his life that were ever kind enough to deal with his antics. But they are gone now. Those that gathered around him and told him they loved him were long since dead. So it's strange to have someone express such care for him when he has not felt such a thing for nearly two decades now. Roy was kind and earnest in his words. This Amestrian honestly meant him no harm, or did he? There is a voice in the back of his head warning him to mind his words and to keep personal information to himself. 

 “ Do not trust him, Pilvi.“ The voice warns “I don’t care what he’s telling you now, he previously just called you his prey only a few hours ago we cannot trust him.”

But he wants to talk. He wants to think about something - anything other than the scars and the jagged lines creeping up his skin and growing ever closer to his heart by the day. No one has seen. Not since Cid saved him after the fall of Gaudium over a year ago and even then the engineer hardly knew what they meant. They were hardly the size that they are now. And most certainly not Black Wind.

The man of dark gales could never see the truth of what lay just beneath white fabric. He could never see the truth of what was running over alabaster skin. If he saw then - if he saw what he was hiding then what would he do? Would his Other finally understand the words that live only in his eyes that his lips dare not speak to him aloud? Would he finally hear him then?

There has to be something else to think about.

So he's allowing himself another moment to take a longer drink from the bottle in his hands before his lips part to speak.

"Usva was four years older than me. My family was just Usva, myself and our parents. I didn't have any other siblings, just him. He was practically my best friend. Usva was all I knew of friendship so that is why I say it is still a rather new concept to me." He stops to neatly fold his hands in his lap after he sets the bottle down to his side.

"Punainen Usva was his name. You would have called him Red Mist in the same way you call me White Cloud. He was disciplined yet wild. Both at the same time. Usva was the greatest swordsman I have ever seen. He dedicated his whole life to it. He mastered everything there was for him to master. He was both a Mist Mythic and a Summoner...and he refused utterly to teach his craft. No matter how much I begged him or tried to barter with hm. Isoveli simply would not teach me.

"You'll get hurt." He said. "I don't want you around such powerful magic." and he refused to teach me. I guess in a way he was right. A Mist Mythic is one who can command the elements with their Mist, you see. Except a Mythic cannot command them all, just the ones compatible with the color of their Mist. "

"Isoveli was a deep red in color so that means he could not command Wind based spells due to their connection to green mist. Any colors that were opposed the wielder cannot command. All except for me. White is the absence of them all so that means I was a blank canvas and had the ability to command any element I was taught.

That's why I hounded him like so, but still Usva never cracked. Even to this day I can only command three of the nine existing types, all because Usva saw the explosive nature of my Mist and refused to teach me fire. He was a master of it. To think something so wild could be born of his Soul's Breath and yet he would have the ability to tame it.

It was fitting. It was just like him."

There's a sigh that leaves him as he allows himself to lay back down on the ground, still safe enough away from the flickering flames of the campfire to be able to not redraw his mask but at the same time to gain no benefit from it's heat.

"I am sorry about all of this Evers - Roy. Being stuck out here in the woods with me. I will work on getting better control over my anger so such issues do not arise again. If you have questions, I can answer to the best of my ability. I do not mind. I just am feeling a bit lightheaded so I need to lay down, yet I need to stay awake considering my condition. Truly, I apologize for the trouble."

Blue and white bottle. He could do that. In an instant, Roy rose to find White Cloud’s bag to grab said bottle and bring it to him. For now, he kept the bag closer to the both of them in case either of them became hungry in the near future. With nerves settling a bit, he hoped White Cloud could eat some. After expending such an exorbitant amount of energy, he needed the calories. 

“Here you go.” Roy found himself smiling as he returned to White Cloud’s side, bottle in hand. To be told he reminded his friend of someone he held dear was quite an honor. Usva was his name. Would it be imprudent to ask more about what Usva, and the rest of his family, was like? He knew so little about his friend’s culture and background, only just beginning to scratch the surface of his language. To know White Cloud was to know where he came from, who and what he loved, and where his passions lied—and Roy wanted to know. 

The Flame was a sun who thrived when he could keep others warm and help them shine. Now, the question became whether or not White Cloud wanted that from him.

“I’m honored.” His own cheeks turned a bit pink at such a compliment. “Truly. If you’re ever up for it, I’d love to know more about them—your family, I mean. I never had a brother.” He didn’t want to force that conversation, especially when White Cloud had to be exhausted. Family was a difficult subject anyhow with him being the last Misterican. How he flew with all of that grief weighing him down… Roy couldn’t imagine. Ishval prepared him a tad in that regard, but to be the last of one’s people was a few degrees above when it came to grief.

Best not to dwell on despair. Instead, he turned his gaze back onto White Cloud and what he had to say. It was an explanation of more of the Misterican he spoke: always, my friend. Well, as long as he was in Wonderland. One of Roy’s eyebrows perked up. Did he… did White Cloud expect their friendship to end once he returned to Amestris? Granted, Roy couldn’t say he fully understood how pillars between worlds worked, or if they would be able to traverse between Amestris and Wonderland, but he did know one thing. He knew that any friendship he made could not be considered temporary. Even if he never saw White Cloud again, he would still consider the Misterican his friend.

Was that foolish of him? Probably. The Lieutenant did occasionally describe him as such. But, as he continued to listen to White Cloud, the desire to preserve this friendship, no matter what, only strengthened. Living as royalty led him to be isolated. No friends outside of his brother, which had to be lonely. Roy couldn’t say he knew that sort of life. Surrounded by his sisters and extended adopted family, and gifted with the charm to befriend almost anyone he met when he wasn’t being a smartass or too much, he knew almost everyone within Central City alone. He could befriend anyone.

But, the people he considered his friends, the ones allowed to see more than the surface, were far fewer. White Cloud was now one of them. 

“You don’t have to tone yourself down for me.” He shook his head. “Friends are allowed to fumble the wind with each other—am I using that phrase right? What I mean to say is that I’m not expecting perfection. I only expect that from myself because I’m a dumbass. When you meet my sons, they’ll gladly tell you.” Edward especially. With this comment, Roy rolled his eyes before he shifted his gaze to the ground.

“Here’s the thing about me, White Cloud: I’ve toned myself down a lot for others for a variety of reasons. But, when it comes down to my friends and family, they don’t treat me like I’m too much. So, I do the same for them, which means I’ll do the same for you. You can be you around me, whatever that looks like.”

[shiroi---kumo]

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ "The blue and white bottle in my bag. If you would be so kind as to bring it to me. I might ask for something to snack on later, but right now my stomach is a little upset."

He's soft in his explanation, deciding for a moment if he's far enough from the fire to keep his mask off or if doing so would pose even more danger to his form. For now, there's little wind blowing so he deems it safe enough.

Evers-Roy wants to know what else he was saying when his mind blanked out in his sudden flood of emotion, and he found himself only able to speak his mother tongue in that moment. His face flushes out at the question as his head drops.

"I was saying how you reminded me of my family." He explains as his cheeks burn a little brighter. "You remind me a lot of my older brother is all. There are a lot of things about both of you that are really similar. I think Usva would have liked you."

And he's shifting around again to make himself a little more comfortable while he waits for the bottle to be brought him. He'd like to get some water in his system before he decides to lay down. He's tired. He's beyond tired and bridging into sheer exhaustion but he doesn't know what else to expect when he just slid a fragment of his soul into his belt.

"You asked me ...if I would have you....as my friend I mean. Obviously, I said yes as I explained what ystävä means but I also said 'aina' without much thought as to what I was saying. So let me repeat. 'Joo. Aina ystäväni.' That means 'Yes. Always my friend.' So I mean.... As long as you're here in Wonderland that is."

His gaze falls away and to the ground in front of him as nervous hands start picking and playing with the grass he sets on. His face is red. Embarrassment over something one should never really feel embarrassed for. Still his face flashes as he admits of the fondness for the Amestrian that's grown in his chest.

"I - I am aware this friendship is temporary, as you will only be in Wonderland for a short time hopefully with any luck we'll be able to find your pillar and get you all home soon. However, now knowing the state of my life, I wish you to be aware of the fondness I feel.

I - was not exaggerating when I addressed myself as royal. Such pedigree runs in his veins and as such one would think I was surrounded with friends and loved ones as a child but instead I was actually --- quite isolated. Usva, my brother, was my only friend close to my age...and beyond that I had my teachers and my personal guard.

I did not have anyone else, friendship is quite a new concept to me so please be patient with me if I fumble the wind from time to time. I think because of this I latch onto others quite strongly at excessively quick rates, so I apologize if this seems misplaced to you. Please accept my sincerest of apologies. If you desire me to do so I will attempt tone it down, but I might struggle with doing so at first."

Ystäväni. My friend. It came from the word ystävä in Misterican. Part of Roy’s mind went to work piecing together how this beautiful language worked—where my and friend attached to form one word—while another sat still. To be called such a word, or two words in their shared tongue, was nothing short of… he couldn’t place what to call the feeling. He could only describe it. Hearing someone label him as their friend was akin to walking in through the front doors of home again: warm, inviting, and a strong sense of belonging.

White Cloud said he belonged at his side and not out of obligation. He uttered ystäväni of his own volition, knowing full well who he said it to. The father who told him story after story about his children. The monster who burned down forests with a mere two fingers. The guilt-ridden man who sat with him day after day in the medical ward. They all encompassed the one White Cloud willingly called ystäväni.

For perhaps the first time since he received the call from that phone booth in Central City, Roy’s heart felt just a touch lighter. Standing on solid ground instead of adrift in an ocean, drowning from grief, he managed to breathe. 

Honestly, though, if he could stop crying while in the middle of a forest, he’d appreciate it. As White Cloud made himself as comfortable as possible, which could not have been easy in his current condition, Roy wiped his eyes. These were good tears, but he had a job to do. His focus needed to be White Cloud’s health and their surroundings. Gaudium would surely love to pounce on him while he was in this state, so the Flame Alchemist needed to be prepared. More fighting wasn’t ideal, but he could manage as much if needed. 

There were gaps in White Cloud’s memory. He couldn’t remember what happened, which meant… yes, that Makenshi took over. That caused memory loss? Well, he supposed that made sense since he was separate from the Misterican he spoke to now. Regardless, if his eyes glowed, which they did, that meant he accessed his soul for power—and Roy tilted his head to the side in pure confusion. What did he mean by that? How was that possible? Was it like… wait a minute. If a Philosopher’s Stone was made up of hundreds of souls, a person using that was essentially tapping into hundreds of souls. However, an individual person was composed of one soul. So, soul tapping for White Cloud was like that… maybe? 

Even if that was the case, it was still dangerous, especially with what White Cloud told him about him, Lady Tiamat, and the Maken. No wonder he was exhausted. 

“I’ll look out for both of us, ystäväni.” He tried to mimic White Cloud’s pronunciation as best as he could. Hopefully, he was close. “I’ve got some experience doing just that. Do you need any food or water, though? I can get it for you if you need it. I did bring some food with me too just in case we were out longer than expected. Kinda learned my lesson on that.” A hand ruffled the hair on the back of his head. It was just some trail mix, but it was enough for him. That sojourn into the woods taught him far too much for his tastes.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what else were you saying in Misterican? Now I know what ystäväni means, but I’d like to know more. Someday, probably in a couple years if I’m guessing, I’d like to be able to have a full conversation with you in Misterican. If you’re up for that.”

[shiroi---kumo]

Eversti wants him to call him Roy. Wait no. Roy wants him to use his name. Yes. Yes that's better. Ev- Roy, his friend, wants him to use his name and honestly, this was going to be an adjustment. It's what his friends call him. He was his friend and there is still a high of euphoria cruising through his brain at the moment.

He finds himself wanting to rise but he can't. Everything is hitting like a ton of bricks. He finds himself wanting to rise as Everst - Roy did but his body feels like a rock and the Misterican is glued to the ground itself. He needs to trust Eve- Roy in this moment in the same way that he asked this man to do the same of him the day they met.

He told him to stay hidden in the forest. He told him to keep his head down and that he would handle the incoming combatants. He told him to trust him and now, now he needed to trust Ever - Roy. Now he needed to trust his friend.

He's so tired. He's so tired and he's almost positive that the other man understands just what is happening to him without the prince having to explain it in full. He's given him the basics of the Maken. He's given him the basics of what the Maken contains and now that he's released the human from his hold, shaky hands are working the best they are able to gather that blade back up into his arms so it can rest flush to his chest.

It's the only way he's going to get over this loss quickly. The Maken needs to remain in contact with him at all times from now until they get back to the Comodeen. How is he ever going to explain this to Cid? How is he ever going to explain this to Cid at all because he hasn't even taken the time to explain to the man what the scars on his belly and back actually are.

So jade eyes downcast with a sad smile on his face as he holds his blade close. Coughing his wracking his form again while his lungs tense for a moment and the prince can only set there and pant out labored breaths once the attack passes. Is this what he's been avoiding by sleeping through these moments? By being dead through these moments?

He can't say he much cares for it and he hates to tell Ev- Roy that they need to cut the search for his sons short but they can't keep going like this. They can't keep going when he feels like his body is corroding all around him.

"Yes, you're correct." He sighs as another puff of white rolls into the air. Shoulders drop in defeat as lips tug down towards the ground with an invisible weight.

"Forgive me, I was overwhelmed. Ystäväni means my friend. It is a form of the word ystävä. I will work on using your proper name ....Roy. It might take me some time to adjust however, but I will do my best for you... but as my friend I need to ask - I need to be honest with you. I - I am exhausted, Roy. I do not know if I can stand. Not currently. So I need you to look out for us for the moment. I cannot remember what happened but if my eyes were truly glowing white then that means I accessed my soul for power. I am going to need some time to rest. Please forgive me."

He's slowly letting himself lay back down on the ground as he keeps the Maken close to his chest. Deep purple lines under his eyes and the prince sighs again.

"We need to return to the Comodeen when we're able to, in the mean time there is food in my bag along with water and other supplies. Please feel free to help yourself to them. I - I am just so tired but I need to stay awake, at least for a little while. I'm sorry you got pulled into my mess."

Growing up, making friends was a difficult task. He was the short orphan boy with second-hand clothes and a mother who worked in a business only ever discussed in hushed whispers. Adults warned their children to steer clear of him—he would only tarnish family reputations. That, combined with him embracing his femininity thanks to his sisters and aunts, led to bullying, which led to fights, bruises, bloody noses, and several angry phone calls to Chris. It wasn’t pretty, and it didn’t earn him many friends who wanted to stick around.

A young girl named Riza was his first true friend. Out in the middle of nowhere, she did not make fun of his clothes nor his upbringing. No, she couldn’t stand his know-nothing city-slicker ass for a while until he proved he was willing to learn more than just alchemy from her father. He sucked at much of the manual labor in the house that didn’t involve cleaning, but he tried, and he refused to give up. That, and he made her laugh, giving her a reason to smile while he made himself the buffer between her and the man he later learned was a monster. They learned to trust each other, learn from one another, and they became friends. 

Then, there was Hughes. A sworn enemy at first—as much as one could be while still a teenager at the military academy—Roy didn’t like the quiche thief. They were competitors trying to outsmart and outclass the other, soon learning that they had just a few things in common. Neither of them liked bullies, for one, and there were several at the academy who didn’t like Heathcliff, an Ishvalan who became their friend. The three of them bonded, studying together to become the top of their class while tensions between Amestris and Ishval only grew. When war eventually broke out, Roy met both of them on the battlefield again. One tried to kill him, and the other saved his life.

If only he could say the same. If only he could have saved Maes.

Friends like them were rare. He had his team too, yes, and he considered them his friends as well. But, there was the barrier of professionalism with them, one necessary in order to do their jobs. Here in Wonderland, he could talk to Fuery and Breda like a regular person, but it wasn’t easy. Making friends was a challenge by itself. Sure, he knew how to read people, and he had enough empathy to understand where different folks came from, but that didn’t make him a desirable person to be around. Before the war? Maybe. Afterward? No, there was a monster now.

And White Cloud saw that monster. He caught a glimpse of it, black eyes of an abyss staring down the soldier who held him captive as the hellhound gnashed its teeth. Roy held it back, but only just. Next time, since Gaudium would be back, would he be able to do so again? Would Makenshi advise White Cloud to stay back for his own safety? Or, perhaps take him on himself? 

No, because he wouldn’t turn his fire on his friend. He made a promise, and he was a man of his word.

White Cloud sobbed more, and Roy stayed still. He said yes, right? Joo was yes, and Ei was no, and he reinforced those lessons with practice. That was the only way he learned new languages. If he said the right word, then was there something wrong with that choice? Because of his previous actions? Because friends didn’t play mind games on each other? Because friends didn’t kill one another? Both statements were true. Perhaps that was the conclusion White Cloud came to, and he cried because how dare this Amestrian say such a thing, especially in his mother tongue.

But, he didn’t leave. In fact, he only pulled away to smile at him before putting his hands on either side of his friend’s face. Roy froze before he realized what White Cloud was doing. Foreheads touching—this was an act of affection. Of appreciation. In some cultures, it was a show of love. His horns rested atop black hair, and Roy couldn’t say he minded. No, this was fine. For the first time all day, he offered a smile in return. This was a good thing.

What was he saying? Black eyes darted back and forth as he tried to read White Cloud’s eyes for the word—as if a translation would be there. It meant something positive, but what? More Misterican followed, and Roy sat perplexed. His lessons needed to increase in frequency if he was going to understand what his friend was saying. None of these words were any of the basics he learned thus far. He needed another journal so he could fill it with Misterican in order to remember it. His memory only went so far. Cid might have one. When they got back—

“Eep!”

And up he went. Squeezed like… like he did with Edward. Now it made a bit of sense. Another act of love, of happiness. This tight embrace was a loving one. White Cloud gave that to him because he loved. That was why he asked if they were friends, and the response he got allowed him to freely give that love. Receiving that love was… he wanted to cry. What it felt like to be loved, even with the monster—it was nothing short of incredible. He wanted to say he didn’t deserve it, but two boys already argued that point to him. White Cloud didn’t need to make that argument again. 

“I…” Now that he stood on his own again, his smile still in place, he looked to White Cloud with one hand behind his head. “You’re gonna need to teach me more Misterican so I can understand the rest of what you said. I’d like to know if that’s okay. But… thank you. Kiitos.” Did he have that right? That was thank you, if he remembered correctly. “I didn’t know I needed that. I think… I think you can start calling me Roy now. That’s what my friends call me, and I’d like it if you did too.”

Maybe now he could have some positive associations with a friend who knew his name.

[shiroi---kumo]

It's refreshing in a way to not be asked to explain himself. No interrogation coming to question his every move. No rough hands or sharp words. No I know what is best for you's or The Blade does not weep's. No lectures. No guilt trips. No poking and prodding accusations to question his sanity.

He simply is and Eversti is taking everything he's said at face value without pulling out a shovel and trying to dig underneath for everything else he could have implied. No, there is only question to what he can do to help and if there is a way he can get into contact with Cid. There is nothing else.

To a dying man, this can only be considered the utmost curtesy. What else can he ask for than to be cared for in this moment? Simply by telling Eversti that The Maken is his life, he can already see the gears turn and the pieces click inside the Amestrian's mind. He can already see the puzzle pieces snapping into place for what that really means for him and the outlook of his future days.

It's in this moment that he can tell that Eversti finally understands.

'I am Unlimited not immortal.'

The human may not understand his curse to it's truest extent but obsidian eyes can at the very least understand that their friend is dying. They are friends right? He hopes they are. He certainly hopes that Eversti thinks of him with the same fondness that he does.

So the prince lingers in silence for a moment. He - he tried to get a hold of Cid when he was running. He remembers that much. He can remember running in a panic trying to get away from the men from Gaudium but everything after that is fuzzy. Eversti says he played mind games and Makenshi called him a liar. What exactly did he say? Should he ask?

No, he'll leave it alone for now. Maybe it's something better left unsaid. So instead he's drawing his mask with a thought so he can attempt to get in contact with the engineer and for the first time in his life his mask feels all sorts of wrong. Suffocating almost with the way his lungs hang heavy in his ribs and the Mist within them seeks only to get out. He'll just have to deal with it.

So his left hand his raising, thumb extended to press against the button at the bottom of his ear.

"Cid?" He sounds only to pause and wait for a reply. There isn't even static on the other side. It is simply soundless.

"Cid?" He speaks again with a little more force in his voice, near praying to just hear the mechanic's voice pipe up on the other side.

"Cid." What he wouldn't give to get lectured by that man right now. To just hear his voice pop in and ask him where he is and what he's doing. To just come in and ask him how things are going and -

"Cid please just answer me."

His voice near breaks at the words as depression creeps into his tone but it is to no avail. So his head drops, with his right arm still looped around the Maken - a veil of snow dropping to cover his eyes.

"What's the point of this if you don't answer me, Cid?"

His shoulders are dropping in defeat as his mask slides back and a puff of white falls into the air in his submission to the fates themselves. He's - Eversti will be fine but - he's going to die out here, isn't he? The scars are growing bigger. They are stretching higher and soon they will reach his heart. Then what?

It's hard to not allow his mind catastrophize the situation. Eversti will be fine. He will live and make it back to the Comodeen but if the scars stretch too high and reach his heart then what? The ship won't be able to rebuild itself then. It won't matter what the ship is made of it if has received irreparable damage.

He doesn't want to be out here. He doesn't want to be alone. He doesn't want to die by himself. He doesn't want to be stuck out here with an injury like this. He knows this is not the first time this has happened but it is the first time he's felt this miserable. Normally this kind of thing happens when he's dead, so he doesn't have to feel the effects like this.

He can't possibly do this many more times without paying the ultimate price for it.

He doesn't want to be out here. He doesn't -

All he can think do in that moment is slowly lay himself back down on the ground. He feels like a child. He feels like a spoiled child that isn't getting his way and that he shouldn't be upset as he is.

Eversti wants to know what he can do and he can't think of much of anything. He can't think of anything because everything he wants is that of a selfish child.

A Foolish Boy. A Reckless Brat.

Why can't he ever have anything good to say about him?

He wants his hand held. He wants his hair stroked. He wants to be comforted. He wants to be loved.

"Cid is not answering and I - I want to cry." He sounds in a quaking voice. "I want to lay here and cry but I cannot. The blade does not weep."

Had he possessed his usual strength, he would have offered to carry White Cloud. Staying in one spot was not ideal when Gaudium would likely send more forces to hunt them down, and he carried the equivalent of White Cloud’s weight before. He didn’t map out how many miles he carried Edward for, but it wasn’t a small amount. Adrenaline helped then too, and the fact he knew Amestris’s layout. Unfortunately, he had little grasp of Wonderland’s terrain, and he just had to get himself shot a couple of months ago. Anymore physical activity involving his legs today would result in serious pain and possible risk of worsening his injury.

And he didn’t want his doctor or his sons getting on his case for that. Or the Lieutenant. Thankfully, no one else knew about his injury. 

White Cloud held his sword close to him almost like a child would with their favorite toy. Why would he… oh. Foggy memories of his acquaintance’s last death littered his mind. In one of them, Black Wind… he carried White Cloud with his sword directly over him. There had to be a reason he did that then, and it likely coincided with why White Cloud held the sword close to him now. They were connected. They needed to be close for reasons he couldn’t begin to comprehend.

This whole world… much of it was beyond him. Math and science couldn’t explain everything there was to Wonderland. Magic existed, and, as much as he wanted to accept that fact at face value… his mind resisted. He saw White Cloud fly. He saw his Mist at work. How he got here was nothing short of magic in and of itself. But, that didn’t stop his brain from screaming that, “No, there has to be an explanation for this! Science behind it! Something! Anything!”

His eyes traveled to the ground. How arrogant he was to think he could bend this world to his whims. Master Hawkeye warned him of the hubris that beget many alchemists, and he thought it never applied to him. Yet, here he was, trying to fit this world into his understanding of the universe. This wasn’t Amestris. This wasn’t Earth.

The sound of hacking forced him to look up to White Cloud. That… it sounded painful. It sounded like Edward. Roy reached out a hand, but held himself back. His Mist began to cloud the air, and he needed to be careful. Too much of it was dangerous. He needed to stay alert and focused. Slowly, he put his hand back to his lap, and he watched White Cloud. It was all he could do. Would White Cloud want him to touch him, rub his back to try and soothe the spasms? Would that even help? Doubtful, but he could offer… maybe? 

His voice lacked its usual clarity, weak as darkness found itself around jade eyes. 

“I’m here.” Just a brief acknowledgement that he indeed heard him. Was he about to try and argue? Was he… no, he needed to ignore that pit sitting in his stomach. This wasn’t like when he sat in the Fenmonts’ guest room with Edward. White Cloud wasn’t about to tell him he was dying. It wasn’t that… it wasn’t that dire. No need to panic. If his heart could slow down and listen to his brain, that would be great. White Cloud was probably going to tell him what he needed to look out for when it came to Gaudium forces. Yes, that was it.

No it wasn’t. He, Colonel Mustang, was a fool. What White Cloud wanted to tell him was of utmost importance, something he needed to keep to himself. How many secrets he kept—Amestris would never know. The secrets he knew wouldn’t get past his lips. White Cloud’s would be included.

“I swear to you what you tell me will stay between you and me.” Direct eye contact to ensure White Cloud could both see and hear his conviction. Makenshi could call him a liar all he wanted, and he would be right, but White Cloud was the one talking to him. White Cloud needed to see that he meant what he said. No one else would know, not even the Lieutenant. No one.

To start, White Cloud answered his question: no, he and Lady Tiamat were not all right. Everyday got a bit harder. From the way he spoke… Roy glanced down. Those were the words of a dying man. Someone who was terminally ill. Did… did anyone else know? Probably not. This wasn’t something he would want to share, and Roy could understand that to a degree. Were he in White Cloud’s shoes, he wouldn’t want to burden other people with that grief. There was only so much one could do in the face of death. White Cloud even told him that he wasn’t immortal. This… this must be his Curse for being Unlimited. 

For reasons that didn’t even make sense to him, White Cloud needed Black Wind. They were intertwined or something, right? He briefly mentioned that somewhere along the line. Maybe it had something to do with that. Either that, or it could just be as simple as wanting someone he considered a friend there for comfort, for solace. He understood that line of thought well enough. When facing impossible situations, what he wouldn’t give to have his best friend at his side—even if it was just for a sarcastic remark before everything went to hell. It would be something.

The Maken was his life. So, that fragment coming off the sword… that was a bit of his life breaking away. How? Roy wasn’t about to ask. That wasn’t important right now. What was important was that if White Cloud and the Maken were separated, there would be dire consequences. They needed to be kept together at all costs. His soul was bound to that blade, which logically shouldn’t even be possible. None of this should be possible. How was his soul bound to a—

“I’m sorry. Please forgive us.”

Those were the first words Alphonse Elric, a boy whose soul was bound to a suit of armor, ever said to him. 

He was so young then. He was still young.

The only version of Alphonse Elric Roy knew was the boy who was bound to armor, not the blond who, to his brother’s chagrin, might stand taller than him one day. And he… he was very real. 

And he was alive and in Wonderland somewhere, or so help—

If Edward Elric, genius alchemist, could bind his brother to a suit of armor when he was just a kid, why was it so impossible for him to believe that White Cloud’s soul could be bound to the Maken? As his acquaintance finished speaking, Roy nodded his head. No, not a single soul would learn of this knowledge: that White Cloud was dying or that his soul was bound to the Maken. He refused to endanger White Cloud’s life more than he already had. 

“I will protect what you just told me with my life, White Cloud, and I will do everything in my power to ensure you and the Maken are not separated. Right now, though… are you able to communicate back with Cid? Maybe he can send Black Wind to our location or transport to come get us.” He didn’t have to like Black Wind or get along with him. If White Cloud said he needed him, then that overrode his feelings on the subject. “Otherwise, what can I do to make you more comfortable for now? I'll do anything you ask.”

[shiroi---kumo]

Eversti is dragging him up and off the ground to pull him into his arms and the only thing the prince can bring himself to do is lay there limply. There's no fight in his body and no tension in his muscles. If anything, some days he wishes this entire mess would just hurry up so he doesn't have to live with the anxiety of wondering if today is going to be the day or not. It's exhausting.  

It's all so exhausting and he's beginning to feel his energy levels deplete with the way his abilities as an Unlimited need to stay in constant effect just to stay alive. Even the Unlimited have their stopping points and his healing abilities were never meant to be active every moment of the day nonstop for years. That's just not how they were supposed to work. Even they needed to have a chance to rest. Even Lady Tiamat needed time to recharge herself and her abilities. 

He just wasn't built to function like this.

Even when he slept his abilities never stopped. Even when he closed his eyes, his abilities as an Unlimited continued to function because should they ever cease he would fall apart from the inside out and if that happened - who knows if it would really require any further damage to the Maken to strip his life away at that point. Somehow he doesn't think it would matter. Somehow he's positive that there is only so much more damage his body can sustain before the concept of the Maken being the source of his undying life becomes a moot point. 

Eversti says a wise Misterican once told him that it was okay to break down and it was okay to cry and that if he wanted to, he simply could. Yet somehow he finds the mere idea of such a thing ever leaving his mouth laughable because wouldn't that just be it though? He was always such a hypocrite. Eversti must have been talking to Kumo because he certainly wouldn't have been caught dead saying such a thing.  Kumo however - his friend was much softer than he would ever be. 

Kumo was much wiser than he was too. Not him. Not the foolish, reckless, worthless boy that can't ever seem to get his Other to so much as even glance in his direction. He will probably get scolded for this too. In fact, he knows he will. If Black Wind didn't berate him for this, he'll be more than just surprised.

How would he feel knowing he was laying in the arms of a stranger? How would he feel knowing he was laying in the arms of the man who once killed him? Somehow, he can't bring himself to care. His time in his plane is limited and he can't seem to get the man to understand that or at the very least show respect towards it. Concern maybe? He'll take anything at this point.

Anything at all.

He can hear his voice in his head. He can hear every nasty thing that would be said about this and the same glaring blue eyes that were capable of stripping him down to his bones with just a narrowing scowl. Yet some where amongst the insults and scolding there was a voice. A softer voice paired with softer eyes. A sad frown and a soft hand on his shoulder. Somewhere amongst it all, he still lived - tucked deep away inside his memories.

"Seejvariil." The voices would start. "The blade does not weep." and the voice would pause again. "But some times... I think it is allowed to."

And the dam holding back years of emotion broke in that moment. Permission to weep from a memory long since dead. A man no longer amongst the living plane. He would know - he killed him himself.

The tears are rushing as his teeth grit together. The tears are rushing as slender hands dig into the fabric of the Amestrian's shirt. Tears are rushing as memories flood and heartache festers. In this moment the Misterican can only cling. Hide his face into a strong shoulder as he lets it all flood forward. He doesn't know how he's supposed to keep going on like this. He needs to get this out now, because he needs to fix his face and put the mask back on before they return to the Comodeen.

No one could see him like this. Black Wind couldn't see him like this. Not again. Not ever again.

That man knows no comfort in his bones.

So he needs to get the sobs that wrack his form out now so he can put his face back on later. It takes several moments of weeping before the prince manages to finally pull himself away. Not releasing his hold but enough to pick his head back up so he is no longer hiding his face.

"Eversti?" The word escapes in a whimpered hiccup.

"Eversti - are we friends?"

He can't say I love you first again. Never again. He can't take that dagger to the chest again because chest wounds for Mistericans are always fatal.

This grief was different.

He recognized the feeling, the way his shoulders sagged at invisible weight, the chill in the air, and the anger that came from the inability to do anything. Grief was familiar by now, an acquaintance he knew since Ishval when he watched his classmates die one by one. Even before that with Master Hawkeye, really, but the war magnified it. The heat intensified everything it touched, and Grief was no exception.

This grief wasn't like that. During the war, he had no time to grieve those he lost. He had to keep moving and follow orders. He just let Grief exist as an open wound until the cold nights numbed it. After that, with Hughes, the death was sudden, and he had no preparation for Grief making itself at home in the chambers of his heart. It nestled there still, growing like a vine until it coiled around the outside. With Edward, Grief had a chance to come in before Death, and he was at least a little prepared. Only a little.

Lies. He wasn't prepared much at all. Nothing prepared him for the gut-wrenching loss of his son right before his eyes.

With White Cloud, it didn't feel like any of those. Yes, he could consider this preparation for an eventual loss, and Grief certainly came and sat next to him now. But, Death wasn't hovering as close as it was to Edward. He had days left when Grief came into the picture. For White Cloud, he didn't know how long. It could be days. Weeks. Months. Years. He didn't know the timeline, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. His curiosity could sit this one out.

They just started to get to know each other. The Lieutenant attached herself to White Cloud so quickly, and they became fast friends as he taught her his language and culture. Roy couldn't help but smile since he hadn't seen her that excited in years. And Fuery---he and White Cloud became thick as thieves in the little time they got to spend together. They were already close friends too. If either of them knew what he knew, they'd... it'd break their hearts. Like it broke his heart.

All he wanted to do right now was hug White Cloud. It wouldn't fix anything for either of them, but it could at least help both their hearts ache a little less. Maybe? No, he wouldn't speak for White Cloud, who tried to reach Cid just now with no luck. That... that wasn't promising. It meant they were on their own out here. In the forest. With Gaudium hunting them.

He wanted to cry. Or scream. Perhaps both. Lady Tiamat was a goddess who existed, but she wasn't the one who put them in this foul position. Whichever god did this, he wanted a word with them. He had enough of being stuck in goddamn forests while being hunted, and he was goddamn sick of his friends dying.

White Cloud lied back down, clearly defeated. Roy couldn't blame him. He could feel that wave of depression coming, that gnawing feeling to go completely numb. That would be easier than crying, he supposed. But, White Cloud spoke, and... his words.

Who told him that?

Those words didn't belong to him.

Those words didn't belong to the kind Misterican who encouraged him to break down after telling him about Chaos. Makenshi? No, these words came from someone outside of White Cloud or Makenshi---or Lady Tiamat, for that matter. These words... they came from someone who saw him as just his sword, only a weapon.

Chaos, then? Maybe. Didn't matter.

With only about two seconds to think about his actions, Roy pushed himself to stand. Quickly, he sat next to White Cloud, and he pulled him into a gentle embrace. The sword needed to stay close, so he kept his hold light. Plus, he didn't want White Cloud to feel forced into sudden contact. That was his personal rule when it came to giving hugs: if he wasn't sure the other person wanted it, then he gave them an out.

"I'll let go if you want me to," he assured, letting his own tears stream down his cheeks, "Listening to you say that... I don't know who told you that, but a wise Misterican told me it was okay to break down. Holding it all together when you feel like falling apart---you don't have to do that, White Cloud. If you want to cry, go ahead. I think the same Misterican who told me it was okay would say the same to you. You can cry on me if you want. I won't go anywhere."

Now that he thought about it, the way White Cloud spoke at that point---when he swore on his crown to him and the Lieutenant---was different than how he spoke now. His word choice differed, and Makenshi... no, that didn't match either. Was that another Misterican present then? The King? He probably had a different name than White Cloud and Makenshi that wasn't the King---that was too simple. If he ever appeared again, Roy would have to ask what he preferred to be called.

Little by little, he started to understand his friend. That was what they were, right?

[shiroi---kumo]

He wants to lay back down. Close his eyes and pretend none of this ever happened but when did that ever work in the first place? He couldn't just close his eyes and go back in time to a place where that little monster hadn't tore the very Mist from his lungs. He couldn't just close his eyes and go back to a time where the force of Black Wind's strike hadn't blown a hole straight through him and that beast all while taking fragments of his soul in the process.

Was this their fate?

To destroy each other all in the name of the greater good? Did the end justify the means? Did it though, when the end meant they were forced to kill their other?

He wants to lay back down if only so the world will stop spinning. If so the world isn't quite so warm and the nearby fire and Eversti's coat weren't helping matters. If he was going to curled up next to something warm, he would prefer the heat of that of his Sun because that was the only heat in the whole of the universe that didn't seem to burn him or leave him sweating and feeling overly warm.

Eversti's fire couldn't be trusted.

But the answers to his questions come and soon he's informed. Yes his eyes were glowing and Eversti says that he killed those men. He did but yet that somehow doesn't sound quite right. Perhaps the man is confused. He must be. It sounds much more like Makenshi was here than anything else... and he wouldn't be surprised. For as much as the White Knight and the Demon Swordsman quarreled he would never say that he never cared for him.

Makenshi would have been the one to save him at the last second. Makenshi is the one who wouldn't have suffered any of Gaudium's nonsense and they were going to take him back to - back to - He hears Eversti's guess at the concept and his lips part before he has a chance to stop them.

"Anarchy." He interjects. "They were going to take me to Anarchy."

Part of him doesn't know if he should have told Eversti that and to give him more to worry about but it's too late for that now and it's at least a valid distraction to get the discussion away from that of his soul. He says there were two of him and he says they were arguing with each other and that one of them said the other was rude - and again he's speaking without thought because wasn't the answer so obvious?

"Makenshi is rude." He sounds without a hint of hesitation in his voice. "The man has no tact but he's a skilled fighter. I'll give him that. Obviously. You saw what he's capable of. But you're right in your conclusion. My Mist is explosive so an explosion is exactly what you saw."

He's moving the coat from his lap as hands take the time to fold up neatly before he sets it off to the side. They don't have time for this. If there were forces in the area that were set on dragging him back to Anarchy then they needed to move. He couldn't handle what would happen to Eversti if that beast caught him in the presence of anyone he dared to call the word friend.

'What have I told you about making friends, Little Cloud? You know how I feel about you spending time with anyone other than me.'

Eversti can't be near that creature. Even if he ever was - it wouldn't be for long and he can't run that risk. They need to get moving, so he's lifting himself from the ground as he once again ignores the question about his well being. It's not a relevant question. It's not pertinent to the situation. His well being had no weight to bare in the matters at hand. The only thing that matters is that Eversti stays safe and they find his sons.

One step, two.

"We really shouldn't linger here for too long. Gaudium won't give up that easily. They - they will be back and I don't want you or anyone else anywhere near them. So we should think about going back to the Comodeen and then I will attend to this matter with Black Wind. I understand they are your sons, Eversti but - "

His hand is raising as his body wobbles. Left hand up in the air, he's reaching for the nearest tree to catch himself as the entire world shifts and spins and it's the rough bark against his palm that is the only thing that keeps him standing. The Maken's gem glows as it shakes for a short moment only to make it's way into the air and float over to it's chosen. The Misterican's hands move as he grips the hilt so he can use the Holy Blade as a glorified crutch.

How humiliating.

"I am fine." He assures with vision downcast. "I am just a bit dizzy."

It's the truth but only part of it. There is nary an injury on him to be seen but yet the man is paler than the snow he embodies. He's more than that though. He's more than just dizzy. His body is in overdrive trying to replace the lost fragment. His body is trying to adjust to the loss of yet another broken piece of his soul lost to the void that rests at the very center of his spirit. Lost to the sorrow. Lost to the despair and it makes him wonder if Chaos is the beast to ultimately feast upon every lost fragment that chips and shatters away from him.

His grip on the Maken only tightens as he lowers himself back down to the ground. Winded. He's winded and it's showing in the way his mouth hangs agape while he struggles to get enough air into his lungs. Fatigue hangs heavy on his form and he finds himself wondering if he'd even be able to fly in such a state. He's exhausted and he just woke so he doesn't know how to lie his way out of this one.

It gets worse every time. Every time a piece falls away, the repercussions get worse and worse. Recovery gets longer and complete restoration something he can no longer ever achieve. His healing abilities are in overdrive and in constant function. They're long overdue for a chance to relax and he fears he may be reaching the maximum output to his abilities as an Unlimited.

It gets worse every time. His limbs feel so heavy he doesn't know if he can lift himself back up at the moment, so the only thing he can do is set in this pathetic heap of himself as he keeps trying to get air back in his lungs. He feels like he's flown a marathon. He feels like he's just ran in a Windarian summer with the way his chest tightens and he feels his lungs hang heavy in his ribs.

He can't ask why this time. He knows. He knows why he's so exhausted and he doesn't know how to begin to explain this to Eversti. He just has to think of a good lie to get him out of it.

"I just - I am just - a bit - dizzy." He can't even speak without heaving. So how is he supposed to make it through the night like this? How long will it take for his body to adjust to the loss? How long will it take for his abilities to reroute and allot for the loss of energy?

There's only so much left of him and he's running out of time...

Roy knew he didn’t ask an easy question. He sat back with his hands knitted together in his lap after White Cloud took the fragment. A thousand and one questions raced through his mind like they always did—what the fragment meant, how it happened, if it happened before—but he kept them at bay. None of them mattered nearly as much as his acquaintance’s well-being. Him and Lady Tiamat since he housed a goddess, which still baffled him and prompted even more questions. Somehow, though, he doubted he would get an answer for the latter. 

Hesitant wasn’t the right word for how White Cloud broached the conversation. The words weren’t coming out, stopped at the same dam likely responsible for holding back any and all emotion. A veritable master of compartmentalizing his emotions when he needed to, Roy knew the tactic well. How White Cloud’s gaze didn’t once shift from that fragment was also telling. Whatever this meant, it wasn’t good. 

“I really hate to tell you this but he doesn’t have long.”

That. That was what this moment felt like. The sudden ocean of grief prepared to tug him under and drown him with just one sentence. He stood on the shore just waiting for the waves to hit him. 

But… no. That was ridiculous. It was just his mind playing a cruel game on him because he was stuck in the past in the forest with Edward. None of that had to do with White Cloud’s situation… right? He was an Unlimited who could revive from death. He couldn’t be dying… right?

Black eyes wandered to their surroundings as an excuse to check for anything out of the ordinary. Nothing. They could go back to looking at White Cloud. They needed to. His focus needed to stay in the present, not the past. He just asked an important question that he thankfully repeated. Did his eyes glow white at any point? That had to mean something. An overexertion of power, maybe? White Cloud didn’t exactly detail how being an Unlimited was a curse when he told him that detail. Perhaps that was part of it? 

He didn’t remember using that sheer power, it seemed. Killing all of those people… part of the curse? Or, maybe it was because one of the other Mistericans dwelling within White Cloud took over to take care of the killing, thus impacting his memory. Was that how it worked? It wasn’t as if he had any prior research to go off of. Regardless… was it better that way? The frown on Roy’s face deepened. No, the truth was better. It was harsher, and White Cloud certainly wouldn’t like it—he didn’t like it—but it needed to be said. 

“Your eyes glowed white, yeah.” He nodded as well. “I ran after you because I figured out Gaudium was hunting you, and I didn’t want them to succeed. When I got there, they were about to take you back to… they said His Excellency, but I remember you telling me the Earl was dead. So, I’m going to assume they mean Chaos’s new host. Correct me if I’m wrong. Then I… I’m sorry. I played a mind game on you and Gaudium.”

As much as he didn’t want to, he kept eye contact with White Cloud as he spoke. It would have been easy to look away in shame, to be a coward and stare at the ground. But, even if White Cloud didn’t remember calling him a liar, he needed to own up to that.

“I pretended to be hunting you so I could get close enough and take down their forces enough for us to get away. Again… I’m sorry I did that to you. I should’ve thought of another way. As to your other question… no, I didn’t kill them.” Roy shook his head. “I should have. It would’ve saved you from having to do it. I used my alchemy after you gave me the go-ahead to knock them back, and that allowed you to get free. You used your sword to create this… for lack of a better word, I’m going to call it an explosion. It leveled that area of the forest and killed what forces Gaudium had there. Then, when you looked back at me, your eyes were glowing.”

He paused, giving White Cloud a minute or so for that information to sink in while he breathed. The next part wasn’t as easy for him to explain, especially since it still confused him. But, if he did his best, maybe White Cloud could shed some light on the situation. Maybe tell him if he really had more than one Misterican living in there and how that worked along with the goddess thing.

If those pills were for pain, he might want at least one. All of this was starting to give him a headache.

“They stopped glowing after I mentioned it to you. We started walking. You called me out for being a liar because of the mind game—I’ll grant you that. Though, you did it while calling me Colonel, not Eversti, which I thought was odd. Maybe I’m wrong.” To emphasize, he shrugged his shoulders. “But, after that… it was like there were two of you trying to talk to me instead of just one. I don’t know if that makes any sense. One of them wanted me nowhere near you, and the other thought that one was rude.” 

With a sigh, he rubbed the back of his head. “Your sword was flashing with that back-and-forth too—like Lady Tiamat was trying to signal something. I don’t know. But, that’s when you lost consciousness, and I noticed the shard from your sword on the ground. I tried to make sure you were comfortable, and I set up camp until you woke up. That’s where we are now. I’ve been keeping watch too in case Gaudium sends out reinforcements.” Another pause to breathe as he held his arms close to his chest. Those were all of the facts. That was everything White Cloud needed to know.

But… was he okay? No, probably not. Who would be under those circumstances? 

“… That’s everything. Are you… are you all right, White Cloud?”