Roy Mustang is the "morally bankrupt colonel (withagodcomplex) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2015-04-27 14:47:00 |
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Entry tags: | roy mustang |
Who: Roy Mustang
What: Roy hadn't had that dream since he was eight.
When: Mid-April
Where: Home
Rating/Warnings: None
Status: Complete
"Auntie Chris! Auntie Chris!" The eight-year-old pounded down the stairs to where his aunt was making breakfast, and skidded to a stop in front of the island. He hadn't even bothered to change out of his pajamas.
"Hmm? What is it, Roy-boy?" She poured the last of the pancakes that would fit on the griddle, then turned to give the child her attention.
"I had that dream again! The one with you, and the ladies, and the old cars, and the weird books." The little boy nodded emphatically. "I drew you a picture before I forgot." He produced a piece of paper, sketched in crayon. "This is you, and this is Mary, and this is Greta, and this is me." He pointed at the smallest figure with the messy hair, surrounded by a pile of books, and screwed up his face, trying to remember the details of the dream. "And I was drawing something only I can't remember what," he said shamefacedly. "Only it was a circle with squiggles in it, and it glowed."
"Is that so, Roy-boy? You've got a very active imagination," she said gently, though if he'd looked up from his intense study of his drawing, he'd have seen the worried look in her eyes.
"Yeah, but then it went bang and the paper disappeared and nothing happened," he pouted. "And it doesn't work. I keep trying and trying but it doesn't work." The reverse side of his page held an abstract circular drawing, with squiggles and arcs and poorly-formed strange lettering.
"Sweetie, things don't work like that in real life. No one can do magic. It's all sleight of hand."
"It wasn't magic, Auntie! It was real. There are rules!"
She leaned over to kiss him on the forehead. "Yes, sweetheart. But one of the rules is that dreams are just dreams. We can do all kinds of special things in dreams that we can't in real life."
"Awwwww." He folded his arms petulantly. "I am too gonna be able to do this someday."
She chuckled softly. "Whatever you say, master magician. Now eat your pancakes."
Five months later, Christine Mustang and her young nephew moved from Anaheim to Alameda.