Graveyard

You can think again
When the hand you wanna hold is a weapon and
You're nothin' but skin

-Halsey

Challenge 2: Unfamiliar

Your red eyes are wide as you look around at the sights and sounds of Central. The train station was crowded and busy. Your hat had been threatened on more than one occasion by distracted passerby.

You had debated on trying to disguise your hair and eyes, but your efforts had proved fruitless. Let the people talk. There was no crime against someone of Ishvalan descent being in the city.

Before you had traveled, you had let Mustang know that you would be paying a visit. You weren't sure he had received your summons; you waited for a few minutes on the train platform.

Roy had received your communication that you would be at the train station. He had smirked, because in the end you had given in. Deciding against dressing in civilian clothes, he passed through the station traffic easily in his royal blue uniform, especially since he looked like he was on official business.

Technically, he was on official business.

Even in the crowded station, he could spot you.

You were still wearing that outdated gardening hat and the simple, rough-spun clothes of the outer villages. Because he knew you had red eyes, he could see them in the shade of your hat; they were wide with surprise.

He figured that you wanted to present a front of being nonchalant, but the downturn of your lips and the whites of your eyes gave you away. You were in unfamiliar territory and it showed.

Not only had you given in to his request, as he had suspected, you were also so vulnerable standing there looking lost. It was almost…cute.

"Nijah!" he shouted across the platform. A few people turned at his shout to glance at you and then move on.

He was pleased to see a little blush coloring your honey-colored cheeks at his acknowledgement.

"So, you decided to come after all," he said. The smirk was permanent.

You paused, seeming to have to gather your bearings for a second. "Of course, I had to show you up flame alchemist," you tell him as you brush past him.

Roy can smell the faintest trace of roses and sweet peas as you pass him.

"It's time Central had a taste of me," you continue. He notes that you're only holding one bag of items. You didn't seem to plan on staying for an extended time, which you needed in order to prepare. Or, you traveled light.

"Yes," he agreed. "They won't know what hit them," he remarks, catching up.

"Are you to be my guide?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"At least for lunch," Roy says. He wouldn't be missed during the lunch hour, one because of his reputation and two because he was driving his subordinates insane.

"Perfect, lead the way then oracle," you tell him, with a smirk of your own.

There's a bistro not too far from the train station that he favors. The food is good, but the intelligence is better. He figures he can kill two birds with one stone.

You've ordered coffee and whatever dish Roy recommended; you weren't picky. As you sip your coffee, you watch him as he watches the reactions of people around you.

You know there is an Ishvalan slum around town somewhere; you've heard about it.

Your hat rests on the back of your chair and people are taking in your white hair and tan skin. Their surprise is almost fun. It's been a while since anyone really looked at you. People in your village were used to you now.

Roy must have had an ulterior motive for bringing you here, you think. Wanted to test the political waters.

"Tell me about the assessment," you say. You weren't coming into this blind; you knew some of what was required, but you wanted to know how much Roy would tell you. How close he was going to play whatever this game was.

"Tell me what you already know," he retorts, "and I'll fill in the blanks."

The two of you stare at one another across the table, each sipping your drink. Stalemate.

"There's a written test," you say, giving in.

"Good. Go on."

"There's an oral or a physical examination," you continue.

"Mhm."

"And the practical or the presentation of your project," you finish.

"Yes. You're prepared to be here for months, doing research and preparing?" he asks, looking pointedly at your one suitcase.

"My plants at home will be fine," you say. Someone from the village would look in on them, the ones that you hadn't shipped to Central anyway.

"And do you have someone to study with here?" he asks.

To your credit, you don't wince, but somehow Roy still knows.

"You don't, huh? Well, I might have a solution but for a price. As a fellow alchemist, you know all about the law of equivalent exchange."

"Yes. Go on," you tell him.

"Sometime down the line, I will require something from you. I want to know that you'll be ready to answer."

"Sounds reasonable."

Your food was brought out and your stomach growled.

"Good. Then let's eat."

Roy watched you as you ate without standing on ceremony. You reminded him a little of Riza; straightforward and functional, not wasting time with unnecessary movements. He also liked that you had an appetite, unlike other girls he had taken out.

You were not unpleasant to look at. The white hair was exotic, as were the red eyes. You didn't look like you were from the slums, which worked in your favor. A physical exam shouldn't be a problem if it came up.

He already had everything set up; this had been calculated. He needed to see how the people of Central reacted to you being out in the open. They were curious, as he expected.

It would be good to have someone like you in his back pocket; an anomaly, an Ishvalan, who wasn't Ishvalan. Someone who had an unusual talent.

The King's wife liked flowers if nothing else, he smirked to himself.