[ time spent in this . . . chaotic landscape of shifting dimensions and new worlds has been something of a hit the ground running experience for roy. he's located a select few people he's found somewhat competent, and he's also located (more importantly) the people from his world that he trusts. specifically, alphonse and riza. edward, it seems, has been taken back to amestris.

hopefully.

but to those who haven't met roy mustang, you are suddenly faced with an image of a relatively young man in his late-twenties/early-thirties, with messy-ish black hair and piercing eyes. he looks like someone who knows what he's doing, to a certain extent. certainly comfortable with the notion of a bunch of strangers listening to him speak, at any rate. and when he speaks, to those that are familiar -- he's definitely military. from his posture and his commanding tone.

that being said, he definitely looks somewhat less-than-put-together, for someone with military experience.

roy is a work in progress. ]

I hope you've all enjoyed the . . . festivities. [ roy, for one, has not enjoyed feeling like big brother has been watching his every move and being told to stay in a room due to some arbitrary lockdown, but he supposes the party has been nice. or something. whatever. ] But I'm afraid I'd like to address something slightly less charming and more pragmatic than celebration.

Since being in the -- employ of the deity who brought us along on this adventure, I've noticed that there seems to be a lack of structure among those of us who are here, for better or for worse, against our will. Many of us have abilities that have been stripped from us without our consent or knowledge [ and while roy has his tone level and calm, as if speaking about the weather, it's fairly obvious that this is a bitter sticking point, for him ] and while I'm certain many of us are capable of living life without said luxuries, I'm certain many others have difficulty. Regardless of what camp you're in, you're definitely not alone.

That being said, when I first arrived here, I came at a time of relative crisis. From what I've been told, there's not much of a structure for coping with said crisis, particularly with our current residents, and the population seems to be rather young. [ WHY ARE THERE SO MANY TEENAGERS ] I'd like to speak with those here, particularly those who have been a part of this journey for some time, on the formation of said structure. Particularly with those with experiences or talents that could lend to said cause of a response team of sorts, or even those who want to have a more forward-minded effort toward understanding our fellow man on this bizarre journey we've all found ourselves on.

[ here, roy pauses, and he gives a somewhat sheepish smile. ]

I don't really expect so much information for free, so, by example: my name is Roy Mustang, Brigadier General of the Amestrian Military. Central Branch. State Alchemist. Currently on assignment in the Ishval region, to headline the reconstruction effort. None of that will carry much weight with most of you, but to make an extraordinarily long story short, I recently took part in an attempt to save the world, with a surprising amount of success. I'm particularly good at organization and delegation, but fail spectacularly at micromanaging. I also enjoy a good game of chess, and entertaining company.

[ pause. ]

And for the naturally suspicious, I'm certain Alphonse Elric will speak highly of me.

[ go bother the teenager for references if you need them, thanks. ]

ooc: this is dated before the communication issues!! we're good. :)

[ unfortunately, this wholly accidental broadcast of thoughts isn't a very pleasant one. around midday, while the interrogations are still taking place, the sounds of a young girl's sobs are transmitted through the signet's telepathy. those who have interacted with ruby are likely to recognize her voice, but you don't need to know that much to understand that something bad has happened. ]

I'm so sorry... I didn't mean to tell...
 
[ the apology is repeated intermittently between her sobs. she doesn't seem to be very consolable... with what's been going on today, it might be obvious as to what she's talking about. for roommates, the door to the room that she's being interrogated in bursts open as her outward sobs can be heard, but only the monitor seems to be visibly there.  ]

( At first there's not a video feed, just a very simple yet disgruntled question: )

Does anyone around here know how to knit? I feel like I have to be missing something.

( In an effort to illustrate the point, there's suddenly a telepathic video stream attached, showcasing what appears to be a muddled ball of yarn; someone may or may not have resorted to trying to rub or melt it together because knitting is obviously just some type of witchcraft.

Hands attempt to pull it apart to showcase the expert craftsmanship that went into this mess -- there's also the sound of rain, as well as a small voice in the background that keeps shouting FUCK! over and over again with varied levels of intensity. The culprit is a chubby Elto baby that's crawling around just out of sight, a thick stick grasped firmly in their hand. )

Lisko! No bad words! -- Regardless, I have a suspicion that the problem is more so with the type of...materials...since they don't want to stick together no matter what I do.

( Or Emil's just an idiot, which is only somewhat more likely. )