Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist belongs to Hiromu Arakawa.
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They receive the red stone the morning before the battle, and are told to be adjusted to it by nightfall.
Roy takes his gloves and his ring and goes out two dunes past the edges of the camp to test it. He snaps his fingers faintly the first time, aiming at the horizon, and the flame darts two meters.
He snaps hard the second time, and it spreads eight, wider than he could have made it before without concentrating.
Roy stares at the ring for a good minute.
Then he snaps again, focusing on controlling the flame more than maintaining it, making it zigzag in sharp lines before him. It only takes a little effort to draw in more oxygen from the still air, to keep the flame going and growing.
He pulls in more, then concentrates and splits the flame in two. Roy pushes the sections apart and pulls them together again, twining them briefly before letting them remerge into one flame.
It's so . . . easy, now.
He snaps his fingers on both hands next time, sending the flames just far enough out that the heat isn't unbearable, and then twists them around each other again and concentrates on not letting them merge. That's also easier than it should be, so he curls the flames horizontally into a cylinder, into a whirlwind, a pillar, and he laughs because screaming doesn't do any good out here.
It's echoed behind him. Roy turns sharply and only barely keeps his hand still. When he sees Kimberly, he thinks he shouldn't have bothered.
Kimberly's swaggering when he walks, so that the red stone around his neck sways back and forth. His hands are in his pockets in a gesture of goodwill, but the smirk on his face is wide.
"I bet you could kill a dozen people with one snap," he says, and the rich, pleased tone of his voice makes Roy tense and turn back around.
"Mm, no," Kimberly goes on. "Two dozen." The sand crunches under his boots as he approaches, stopping closer than decent behind Roy. Hands press against his sides a second later, and Roy jerks forward automatically, without checking for the tingle of alchemy against his skin.
"Or a little less," Kimberly muses, correcting himself. "All those buildings will interrupt the oxygen. And when they catch on fire, that's even less to work with. Shepherd them out to the dunes, it's more to your advantage."
"Stop," Roy says hoarsely. "Just--stop."
Kimberly steps forward again, grasps the wrist of the hand with the ring, and pulls it up, examining it over Roy's shoulder. He's close enough now that Roy can feel the necklace's stone pressing malleably against his back.
He doesn't move away. There's no reason to; he knows Kimberly isn't merciful enough to blow off his hands. Not with what tonight's bringing.
"I'll look for you," Kimberly murmurs, rubbing a finger against Roy's knuckle, just below the ring. "I want to see it."