Title: 037 Match
Author: Tressa
Rating: K+
Summary: #35 of the 100 Royai themes.
Spoilers: Conquerors of Shamballa
Pale pink lips pursed themselves together as Riza Hawkeye nodded at the two second lieutenants, before both saluted her and left to their duties. Taking a moment to herself, she slowly made her way to a secluded area. There was a crisis happening, both in Central, and in her personal life.
Opening up her hand, she stared at the broken match stick. The words that accompanied it echoed in her mind.
He tried to light it.
Calloused fingers gently caressed the rough match head, making their way down the sturdy wood. What had happened to Roy Mustang? This match stick meant so much more than some might assume. Havoc and Breda understood. She could see it in their eyes when they reported to her. The strain. The hurt. The helplessness.
This was more than just a match stick. This was the Colonel. A once strong source of power, charisma and confidence. He was their beacon to a better world. His will and desire to make life better for everyone burned intensely; it almost seemed that his name had a double meaning. The Flame Alchemist not only could create a spark and flame with a snap. With his heartfelt desire to right wrong and deep focus, he lit the flame inside of them to follow his lead. To support him.
And now he was broken. No more did that flame show itself as brightly, just as the sparks from his gloves and his use of alchemy ceased to be present as well. Instead, he stood in the harsh cold in a remote outpost. Those gloves he was well known for, cool and unused.
She could feel her heart grow heavy and if she hadn't been where she was, in the middle of a crisis, she might have allowed herself to grieve. A loud shout drew her attention and brought her back. If there was one thing Roy Mustang loved, it was Amestris. He loved his country. Giving the matchstick one last look, she took a deep breath and prepared to re-enter the fray. This matchstick was essentially useless. One could not easily light a fire with it broken in half.
Frowning, she held it together. But it was still good. It hadn't been used up completely. It was a difficult task, but someone might be able to find some use for it. Might be able to figure out some way to create a spark that would light the fire again.
Exhaling deeply, she nodded to herself. This matchstick was the Colonel. Broken, apparently useless. But not entirely. With certain circumstances and the right touch, a bright flame could be produced. She heard another shout. She just hoped that it would happen sooner rather than later.