Puttering [Closed to Tringhams]
It wouldn't have been much of an exaggeration to say that Roy hasn't really left his room for a month. Prone to more than a bit of over-thinking things, he's nearly driven himself insane with all the dwelling he's done. Really, though, what else is one supposed to do when they find out that everything they've been taken away from is gone?
It doesn't help that he hasn't run into a single person he's known yet, that Ed or Riza or Havoc or General Armstrong or anyone hasn't come wandering dazedly into the Obs Deck after waking up naked and covered in alien snot. Hell, at this point, he would have been happy to see the goddamn Führer, but it really doesn't look like that's gonna happen, does it?
Fortunately, he's come to a stable enough state of mind that he feels comfortable leaving the confines of his room in favor of the dim, winding hallways. He passes through a few of the more open spaces, but tries to stick to the less traveled paths skirting places like the Sensoriums and the City, snapping occasionally to keep himself occupied. The small bursts of flame throw his shadow on the curved walls, twisting and contorting enough to make him smirk grimly, something vague and dark about Ishval floating through his head.
In such a fashion, Roy effectively putters about, muttering to himself, rubbing his forehead to banish bad thoughts, dark eyes flashing the whole while.
It doesn't help that he hasn't run into a single person he's known yet, that Ed or Riza or Havoc or General Armstrong or anyone hasn't come wandering dazedly into the Obs Deck after waking up naked and covered in alien snot. Hell, at this point, he would have been happy to see the goddamn Führer, but it really doesn't look like that's gonna happen, does it?
Fortunately, he's come to a stable enough state of mind that he feels comfortable leaving the confines of his room in favor of the dim, winding hallways. He passes through a few of the more open spaces, but tries to stick to the less traveled paths skirting places like the Sensoriums and the City, snapping occasionally to keep himself occupied. The small bursts of flame throw his shadow on the curved walls, twisting and contorting enough to make him smirk grimly, something vague and dark about Ishval floating through his head.
In such a fashion, Roy effectively putters about, muttering to himself, rubbing his forehead to banish bad thoughts, dark eyes flashing the whole while.