(no subject)
After avoiding almost anyone and everyone for weeks (excepting his strange roommate who seemed only to speak in iambic pentameter) after his encounter with Mister De Worde, Roy finally felt like he'd gotten a hold of both himself and the tricks the island was like to play on him. He was out of uniform, for once, and enjoying the simple pleasure of walking barefoot on the sand with a pair of dress shoes in one hand, black slacks rolled up to his knees and his white button-down halfway open.
It wasn't home. No matter how much he tried, it wouldn't even come close to home. He was, for the second time in his twenty seven years, out of his element. He was jealous. Funny, huh? Roy Mustang, jealous. He never thought he'd really get a handle on that feeling, but it rose like bile in his throat every time he thought of everything the island had given Elric. It was likely just a matter of time, and if Roy was good at anything, it was waiting, but this was starting to get ridiculous.
He heard a yelp. A strange sound made stranger once he realized it came from his own throat. A sharp pain shot through the sole of his foot and up the length of his calf. Slowly, he drew his foot up only to find a thin cut on the bottom of his foot. It wasn't long, half an inch at most, but enough that it would make walking the several miles back to the compound difficult.
His attention focused on the sand, in search of the culprit. A piece of sea glass, maybe, or a stick or any number of things. What looked like metal glinted in the afternoon sun. He dropped to his knee and very cautiously pulled a familiar looking knife out of the sand. He froze where he was, holding the weapon by the tip and just staring at the contours of it.
He hated this island.
[ooc: open to anyone. ideally looking for ed or al. roy's just found his item and he's none to pleased about it. probably a good time to meet him since he's not likely to try and get into your pants at all...unless you want him to.]
It wasn't home. No matter how much he tried, it wouldn't even come close to home. He was, for the second time in his twenty seven years, out of his element. He was jealous. Funny, huh? Roy Mustang, jealous. He never thought he'd really get a handle on that feeling, but it rose like bile in his throat every time he thought of everything the island had given Elric. It was likely just a matter of time, and if Roy was good at anything, it was waiting, but this was starting to get ridiculous.
He heard a yelp. A strange sound made stranger once he realized it came from his own throat. A sharp pain shot through the sole of his foot and up the length of his calf. Slowly, he drew his foot up only to find a thin cut on the bottom of his foot. It wasn't long, half an inch at most, but enough that it would make walking the several miles back to the compound difficult.
His attention focused on the sand, in search of the culprit. A piece of sea glass, maybe, or a stick or any number of things. What looked like metal glinted in the afternoon sun. He dropped to his knee and very cautiously pulled a familiar looking knife out of the sand. He froze where he was, holding the weapon by the tip and just staring at the contours of it.
He hated this island.
[ooc: open to anyone. ideally looking for ed or al. roy's just found his item and he's none to pleased about it. probably a good time to meet him since he's not likely to try and get into your pants at all...unless you want him to.]