BAPTISM BY FIRE / o, attack on roy

[beck.]

[member=312]ROY MUSTANG.[/member]

    It brought a half-grin to scarred lips as he glowered out at the expanse of flowers and fields where pacifists spent their time doing nothing but staring at the sky. He hoped someone would end up with burnt corneas from gazing at the sun for too long, but it was more of a wish than actual hope. The mangy feline whose flanks were bristled with mud and brambles was hesitating, rocking back and forth on frigid paws not too far from the border. Beck tried to convince himself to return the brainless girl that had trespassed and was rightfully dragged into the bunkers for safekeeping, but there wasn't any fun in that. The Ascendants didn't even suspect him -- why turn himself in when nobody even knew yet? Lowering himself to hide among the bluebells and daisies once presented to him in a bouquet, the poltergeist was torn between his dilemma. Starry should earn his member back; Beck wasn't going to be a pushover, not even to a bunch of hippies. Before long, his thoughts drifted into nothingness, and he found himself uprooting flowers with pearly little claws, churning the soil in boredom. He could just... watch for now. If a creature approached within the next few minutes, he would admit to the "capture" and hand Luna back over. Tapping his knuckles to imaginary seconds, he stared beyond the grasses obscuring his sprawled apparition. Endless fidgeting was never enough to cure his insetting boredom, yet the boy still waiting for something to force him into doing the right.

    Time was up, and no one had come to rescue the girl not even present. Typical. A rasping huff broke the white noise of wind and rustling, Beck heaved himself back to unsteady paws. He was just about to leave, turned on his heel -- but slight movement caught his blurred eyes. While it was too late for any negotiation on his part, the poltergeist glanced back to watch an ash-and-crimson striped feline trample through the meadow, capturing his curiosity. Well, he had already wasted enough of his time. Why not give a poor bloke a few scars while he was already here? Lantern-like eyes locked on the unaware tiger, Beck was quick to stalk towards him, pausing mid-step to observe only feet away, preparing for any opening to ambush.

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[Roy Mustang]

Roy Mustang is not a pacifist, unlike his groupmates. His groupmates certainly seem to be quite the pacifists, he would understand why people would be so annoyed with them and their reasons. Sure, it's not as bad as a group that constantly wants to spill blood, but Roy knew he would be more annoyed if he heard about the Ascendants while living in a different group. Roy has already shown his annoyance towards his clanmates- Mustang is new to the Ascendants, but he is also new to this life- he was formerly human. He used to be apart of the Amestrian Military, he had been a Colonel and a state alchemist. So Roy wasn't about to go with the flow and treat this situation like it wasn't a problem. He's going to be suspicious and untrusting. He is going to be constantly confused on why this happened to him and Riza, and how they can go back. And it will take time for him to gain any trust in any Ascendants member- especially their leader(who in all honesty to Roy, is a little too happy that makes Roy think they're hiding something). Back in his old military, when they got into a civil war- state alchemists were used in a genocide extermination. Roy was one of the alchemists- he is quite used to the smell of burning corpses and ash. Most of the Ascendants might squirm at fighting and spilling blood, but Roy already has his paws spilt. He won't be afraid to do it again if it means he saves his life or someone he cares about.

Ah, Luna. Roy barely knew her, and not long after he joined their group she seemed to disappear. He didn't really think some group took her hostage- his new scent of smell gave him the ability to smell better. If there was another group at the scene, he'd be able to tell now. He didn't come across any strang, unfamiliar scents back there. So the tiger didn't think much of it, he wasn't that concerned. Especially considering he doesn't fully trust his groupmates yet- this might merely be temporarily shelter for him until he finds a way home to Amestris.

Unlike his other groupmates, when Roy's green gaze landed onto Beck, he didn't have that happy, welcoming approach. Instead his eyes narrowed with suspicion, eyes turning to mere slits, ears pinning back to his skull. His groupmates have been complete idiots regarding trespassers. He’s seen them approach them like they're buddies already and not even show concern that this possible person might be a threat. Roy was not going to think Beck was a friendly guy who was looking to 'join', hell no. Especially considering that Beck is stalking towards him, as if that's not shady enough. ”What the hell are you doing? Explain yourself, now.”

[ rushed at end sorry!! ]

[beck.]

    Beck would have loved a life of pacifism and luxury, not whatever struggle to survive he ended up with. He was at the bottom of the food chain by the time he was an orphan and a menace, easy pickings for any predator that wanted to snatch him up off the streets. Adaptation was quick to rescue him, and soon enough, Beck felt no twinge of guilt every time he kicked an attacker's knees in, split his knuckles punching front teeth, or even at his worse, plunging a blade into an unsuspecting victim from behind. He never learned proper fighting, and he didn't need to -- he was an improviser, and usually only got violent when his traps failed to subdue or his emotions slipped out of his control. Which was a lot. Not his proudest confession.

    Nostalgic memories of when he had actual adrenaline to accompany him aside, Beck assumed he would end up caught before actually doing any damage. He was, after all, on foreign turf, leaving him vulnerable. And he had lost his element of surprise, a tactic he was heavily reliant on. This was a bad idea, bad idea to the bone. He rocked on his toes, sizing up the tiger in his internal tug-o-war between retreat or beat-down. Weighing his options wasn't difficult, visibly biting down on his tongue as he was rightfully questioned. Fuck it. Beck lurched forward expectantly, assumedly aiming to pounce onto Roy and scratch at his face, but at the last second, the scrawny feline faked out and slid beneath the bulky tiger, claws outstretched to rake up and kick into his exposed underbelly. The poltergeist had been needing more practice anyways for the next time he and Pincher went toe-to-toe, and Roy was lucky enough to be his punching bag, in exaggerated terms.

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[Roy Mustang]

Even though Roy has situated himself into a 'pacifist' group, that doesn't mean his life is going to have ups and downs. While Roy might not be struggling to find food, and now has a roof over his head, he didn't have a perfect life beforehand. He has experienced war, he has seen death right before his eyes- his paws might not looked stained, but they are stained with old blood that haunts him of his past. It reminds him of what he had to do, on how he had to exteriment so many people because the government ordered the State Alchemists to. Some people might have shaken it off, others were even proud of what they done, but Roy didn't feel the same way. While the lives he took might haunt his mind for perhaps the rest of his life, he wanted to make an effort to give those people the help they really deserved. But can he even do it now? How can he make things up to the Ishbalans if he's stuck here as a sumatran tiger? He can't do anything.

His past has also given him experience, as well as a tolerance for fights and war. Yes, he does feel haunted by his actions- but during the war it was far different. He got used to snapping his fingers to send a combustion of flames to burn his enemies. He's gotten used to the smell of charcoal, smoke, and worst of all- burning bodies. Perhaps this is a part what haunts him- is that he can't be bothered as much by it anymore, that it feels so normal and regular to him.

It would be a flat out lie if Mustang wasn't surprised by the trespasser's response- which was Beck lunging at him. Roy had found it suspicious that they were sneaking around in the territory in the first place, he didn't feel like the tom had good intentions. And now, his assumptions have been proven correct. He was quite glad he approached the guy the way he did, even if he was getting attacked. Roy was already being weary and cautious of the guy, he was prepared for a fight if needed. Or well, prepared to somewhat fight him off- considering Roy isn't as combatively experienced as he'd like to be. He taught himself the basics a few days ago, thanks to Bastillepaw, so he should be able to fight this guy off, considering they're quite small after all. But that doesn't mean Beck is a weak opponent, Fullmetal had been quite the pipsqueak and that kid could fight.

The tiger would start by beginning to take a step back at the male's sudden lunge- but not far enough to avoid Beck's claws. He closed his eyes shut for a second as he felt Beck's claws pierce his cheek, but quickly opened them after he noticed Beck maneuvering in a way to get under his belly. Oh no, he wasn't about to let this guy get under there to his exposed belly- he could only assume Beck planned on slashing his stomach open with those claws of his. Before Beck could rake his claws against his belly and kick the tiger in the gut, the male jumped back just in time. He was far enough now that Beck would have to lunge forward again. But this time, as the male had been jumping back, Roy couldn't help but notice something on his front pawpads. A flame transmutation circle. It was an exact replica of what had been on his white ignition gloves. Only if he had a way to ignite flames, the transmutation circle was useless without it- wait a second, his claws. Roy can recognize that anywhere, his claws are made of flint! He can use those as ignition! He's not sure how his claws are made of flint, they were made from a mutation, but he wasn't going to complain.

And without another thought, the male lifted his front left leg into the air. And then, he violently snapped. Almost instantly, wild flames burst in front of his paws, running wild and instead of hitting Beck, was fired right into a tree. Well, he has to work on his aim now, doesn't he? He doesn't want to be rusty, he's suppose to be perfect at this, especially at pinpoint aiming. A snarl curled around his lips, as his green gaze locked onto Beck.

Snap.

Another burst of flames that was closer to Beck this time, but not perfect. Those flames hit another tree, the flames licking up the wood and leafs.

Snap. Snap.

This time, Roy got it. Fire cracked before his claws- red hot, flames heading directly towards the poltergeist, in which Roy aimed carefully towards. He hoped for the flames to hit his target dead on, but that might not be the case. Surely Beck can move out of the way in time, before turning to charcoal that is. Maybe his flames will only singe Beck, or maybe they will miss entirely but still give a sign to Beck that attacking Mustang isn't worth it. It's not worth getting burned alive, or even singed, Mustang wasn’t going to hold back.

[ rushed at end sorry! ]

[beck.]

    Sticky blood on his claws was certainly a different experience than blood spattering his hand while holding a dagger. Not that Beck hadn't brandished claws before, but he was beginning to learn that blood-soaked fur was disgusting. His honey-brown glare admired the crimson speckling his paws for a feigned heatbeat, before flicking the gooey droplets of Roy's blood off and wiping the residue on his chest in a fruitless attempt to smear it away. He had skidded from the momentum of his lunge, turning a sharp corner to counter. Ignoring the field's grits digging into his paw pads and snapping his attention back to Roy, he found himself bewildered why the tiger was staring down at his own paw. Beck's vision may have been as blind as a mole in floodlights, but when he trained his sight on the exact same patch of skin, he could vaguely trace out a circle with markings inside. A pentagram? His split brow furrowed at the thought of another creature with a demonic seal similar to the one engraved onto his left palm -- er, pad.

    However, as much as he would have loved to ponder Roy's deepest, darkest secrets, he wasn't permitted enough time to contemplate the strange discovery, as soon enough Roy was snapping around like a mad man. "Demon!" Beck hypocritically shrieked out in an accusing tone right as a fireball whizzed past his left and crashed into a tree, to which he tumbled away from. From there, all Beck could do was duck and dive through the tall grass to avoid the abrupt inferno, although that strategy was rendered useless as the dry field caught fire as well. The poltergeist had been frantically patting out embers sprinkling his flank when Roy's aim finally locked onto him. Firelight reflected a hazy amber within his lantern-like eyes as they stretched wide in panic at the flames hurdling towards his hunched form; reflex suggested he flatten himself to the heated earth and shield his head with trembling arms. At the last moment, Beck got a handle on his common sense and disappeared from existence, but not without flames managing to scorch him. When the fire died out upon hitting its target, Beck was nowhere to be seen -- save for a pile of scattered ashes and the horrid smell of charred hair. In reality, the cinder served its purpose as a decoy, while the invisible entity circled around to prepare an ambush as a last resort.

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[Roy Mustang]

Demon? Really, demon? The only thing Roy could give to that shriek was a scoff of an annoyance, focusing on snapping his paws only. Roy was well aware of what he was doing has nothing to do with demons, it's called alchemy. The science of understanding, deconstructing, and reconstructing matter. But that doesn't mean Roy gets unbelievable powers. It is impossible to create something out of nothing, if one wishes to obtain something, something of equal value must be given. That is the basis of all alchemy, the law of Equivalent Exchange. And from what Mustang can tell, alchemy isn't as popular here as it was back in Amestris. At least it came to his advantage, it was certainly a surprise for Beck, it didn't seem like they were expecting it. The male came to a stop, when he watched his flames aim and combust perfectly, hitting his target directly. Roy wasn't aware that Beck was a ghost, and that it would be harder to kill him, so when the flames disappeared and when he saw the pile of ash, he smirked. The smell of a burning corpse entered his nostrils, which was unfortunately a normality for him, and wasn't bothered much by it.

He placed his paw back down on the ground as he slowly made his way over to the pile ash, blood rolling down his cheek. "Good riddance," The Flame Alchemist muttered, as he looked fown at the pile of ash for a moment, before drawing his gaze upwards. He could smell more smoke, this time the smell of burning grass and wood. Well, his aim was certainly rusty the first few times. He can tell by the fire, that's bound to grow larger if not prevented, in the trees and wild grass. His smirk instantly faded into a frown, one thought running through his head. Shit.

[ feel free to open now ! ]

[guts]

Hughes had heard all the commotion as he was walking about the territory. Walks had become a sort of habit for him. He wasn't ever sure what to do with himself, as there apparently wasn't ever much to do. Besides, he needed something calming to clear his mind. Ever since he had woken up, he hadn't been in the best place mentally. But that morning wasn't about to be peaceful like he had expected. The noise had caught his attention first, then the smell of fire hit his nose. He could only assume the worst with such a familiar smell.

He practically flew over the plains, intent on making sure his friend was alright. He wasn't sure what he would do if Roy was hurt--or worse. The alchemist could take care of himself, but everything was new for them both. Hughes wasn't really sure how alchemy worked, so there might have been a chance it didn't work the same it had when they were human. He probably wouldn't be that useful himself, yet he sure as hell wouldn't let him face an enemy alone.

It takes him little time to reach the feline, the growing flames only proving his suspicions. But whatever he had been fighting was nowhere in sight. He was a bit disappointed, as he had been eager for a little scuffle. He wasn't a violent man, but he also wasn't a pacifist, either. He wasn't afraid to get his hands--er, paws--dirty.

"Roy, are you alright? What the hell happened?" he demanded upon arriving at the scene, standing close to him. The spreading of the fire was definitely worrying.

"SPEECH"

♡♡♡
tags

[BASTILLEPAW]

BASTILLEPAW AURELIUS  ✧
the ascendants — kuiper corporal — tags

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The bursts of fire drew his attention, and within moments Bastille was suddenly just there, standing a few feet away from Roy. His attention was only on the Flame Alchemist briefly (trying to figure out what the fuck was going on), however, before it snapped to the familiar aura of Beck lurking several yards away. The bengal tensed up, lip drawing back in a snarl as he realized what all of the commotion (and the ashes) must be about. Disgusted, he spit in annoyance, "He's a ghost, you idiot."

It wasn't Roy's fault, most likely, and most probably would not blame him for assuming victory in this situation -- but in that moment Bast could feel his pulse picking up, the vicious anger over Luna's disappearance spilling over as he snapped, "You can't kill a ghost. Can you, jackass?" It was clear that the second portion was directed at Beck, who, unfortunately, hasn't seemed to have learned his lesson: invisible or not, auras were always there. Bastille glared harder and hissed, "What the fuck are you doing here? It doesn't seem like you're returning Luna, you goddamn gutter rat, so why don't you kindly fuck off?"

Clearly, Bastille hadn't believed a damned word out of Beck's mouth when he claimed not to have his mentor. He was barely holding his anger in check; he was tempted to just tackle the leader -- it would be justified, most likely -- but held himself in check, assuming Starry would probably throw a goddamn fit. His body was starting to glow that dark, shadow-y black, however, hinting at how dangerously close to losing it he was.