red is the color of everything that roy is; fire and anger and the deepest burning passion that a narcissist can manage. red is all about power and heat, conviction, the drive to succeed. he's since lost his power red ties in favor of the sleekness of black, professionalism wrapped in a ticking time bomb. roy mustang is red in all its purest and jaded forms, the embodiment of what the color red means. red reminds him of the lipstick his aunt wore almost every day of her life, still wears to this day. the shades have gotten darker, but she always used the red as a tool, a focal point, to draw the attention of men and women alike. she's like a spider, a black widow, black and unassuming, until that hourglass red finds you. orphaned at a young age, she swoops in like that deadly black widow, takes roy under her wing, and introduces him to a life of sophistication. she wants him to be a proper young gentleman, saddles him with all the best things money can buy at the time, gets him a proper education. its easy, because of her job, to send him through tutors and whatever else she can get her hands on. red makes him think of the girls dancing through the halls, laughing with each other, until his aunt's gaze turns on them, and they grin and wave he way. its a strange little family, he always thinks, but his aunt is the only parent he's had for so long. she raises him to be just like herself; strong, intelligent, sarcastic and witty, but above all, independent. she teaches him to be calm and take whatever life throws his way with a smile and charm; always be a gentleman, never lose your cool. but roy does lose it, often enough, when put through the torment of seeing men and women falling before him. red is the flames that lick the houses he sets on fire, the pillars of smoke and ash, swirling cyclones of fire that just devastated anything in their way. the whole horizon is red, set ablaze, left to ruin. he sees that red sometimes, in nightmares, or daydreams, in flashes and glimpses. the hero of ishval indeed; it leaves such a bitter taste in his mouth.
its blood splattered against a crumbling stone wall, sticky as it seeps beneath his fingers from an open wound. its red he sees when he loses touch with himself, goes for broke. red is the color of passion and lust, of the philosopher's stone embedded deep within the chest of a regenerating homonculus. very few times has he ever been angry enough to lose control and this was one of those times. he's not ashamed of it, but he is wounded and guilty; he failed to protect an important member of his team. he knew they could all protect themselves, that's what they were there for but...as a colonel, this was part of his job. his men relied on him to do what was best, and he'll admit, sometimes he's impulsive. all arrogance and cocky pride aside, he was simply not good enough to keep havoc from being wounded, to keep himself from the same fate. red is his blood as he spills it against the floor, loses enough to make himself dizzy. red is fire when he burns at his own skin, grits his teeth against the pain, and reaches for havoc in the same labored breath. he'll live, roy tells himself, because he knows that havoc is much stronger than that. red hot turns to blinding white when he carves a circle into his own hand to account for tattered gloves. red is all he sees, explosion after explosion, while the homonculus screams and her philosopher's stone is pushed to its limits and beyond. red is exhaustion and roy mustang is simply that.
orange is like the sun and lazy days spent sleeping at his desk rather than doing work. the sun in amestris could grow blaring in the heat of summer and, while his alchemical element may have been fire, roy mustang was not someone that enjoyed sweating in the heat of the day. however, he enjoyed paperwork even less. delegating others, often, to do his work for him, he has a reputation for being lazy and self-absorbed, for being a skirt-chaser, and a man with entirely too much charm. orange also reminds him of second lieutenant havoc and the irritating way he always talked about being a country boy. regaling roy of the things he grew up with; roy believes none of it. havoc hails from eastern amestris, sure, but honestly. really havoc. roy always stares lazily at the man's cigarette as he flicks ashes into an ashtray, keeps the thing perched between his lips expertly. he doesn't mind being caught staring and everyone writes it off as his annoyance that his subordinate would smoke indoors. he does it because roy lets him, because roy enjoys watching the orange tip of it burn down until it gets closer and closer to the man's fingers and he finally has to snuff it out. roy mustang has an oral fixation of his own. more than jean havoc, orange reminds roy of autumn and the changing of leaves from green to brown and gold. orange fades to brown and not even the effervescent jean havoc is immune to the change of seasons.
its hard to let jean go, to give him what he wants--a discharge. the man followed him into hell and back, his spine was severed because of roy's obsession with finding a killer he knew nothing about. and that's all on him. he sees havoc's vibrant orange fade and he feels guilty, it hurts. not in the same way maes' death hurts, but a whole new hurt that he can't explain. so many people counting on him, so many people willing to follow him anywhere, and he can't even keep them safe. how can he keep a whole country safe? doubt floods him and it is not orange, it is black and it swims. but havoc, for all its worth, is still so supportive of him. still wants roy to succeed, and just because roy is hurting, doesn't mean that he needs to give up. he can't, because this goes deeper than them, deeper than the fuhrer and the state. as they both lay in their hospital beds, roy peels an orange, stares at the shine of its skin and the citrus beyond. havoc is droning on about wanting a cigarette that the doctor's have denied him. roy smiles, faintly, and plucks off more skin, sitting up and listening to someone talk outside. he'll find some way to help havoc, because this man deserves it. havoc turns to him, says something charming and sarcastic all at once, and roy chuckles, picks up a peel, and flicks it in his direction. reaches over, hands him half the fruit, and watches his second lieutenant out of the corner of his eye. if havoc can bounce back, can return to vigor, than roy can as well.
yellow is like the little buttercup flowers he used to watch white butterflies land on outside his aunt's home. he was never a child that liked to play, not in the traditional sense. these days he's a notorious tease, narrowing his eyes in cat-like amusement and offering sarcastic, snide words. he annoys people sometimes, he gets that. at the same time, he's not typically as playful as he is with those close to him. oftentimes his days are spent at his desk in the office, or in his modest little apartment in central, staring at the words on yellowing pages of books and not really registering the words upon them. roy lives life in something of a haze. yellow is happiness and only comes in the form of remembering that he's here for a reason. yellow also reminds him a lot of edward elric; what a little pain in his ass. tenacious and vibrant, he admires edward for his resolve and for his dedication, as well as his power. being able to survive a failed human transmutation as well as bond his little brother to a suit of armor is no easy task. not even he's able to transmute without the circles, but edward does so with amazing ease. he's young and already more experienced than roy was at that age. he wonders, often, about edward and al elric and what kind of things they must have experienced to want to do human transmutations so young. the pain of losing a parent, he can understand, he lost both of his and he remembers them so infrequently. their mother was the last thing they had left (which wasn't entirely true, as the rockbells were right there the whole time) and it's only natural to want to save someone so close to you. roy can relate. more so, he understands them, better than he thinks they know. these children are his responsibility, just another set to add to the collection of chess pieces on his board.
there are ducks that live in a pond near the headquarters in central and roy would never admit that he goes to the park to think and, perhaps, to feed them. their mother stands on as always, watches and takes the bread from his fingers when he leans to give it to her. her ducklings are yellow, fluffy and lively, and they also remind him a lot of edward and alphonse elric. they're too young to be involved in all of this and its his fault they are. he knows that hawkeye follows him, despite never once telling her where he's going. he catches her one day, smiles at her tiredly, and tells her to come sit down with him. he goes there to think when the office becomes too stifling. she goes with him there now, travels at his side rather than where she thinks he can't see her. yellow stands for happiness, for exuberance; riza hawkeye is a little bit yellow. yellow is the sun on the clear days, when its not raining, and unlike most, roy doesn't feel particularly invigorated by its presence. yellow is laziness to him, its the beginnings of warmth and summer and times where he'd rather shed his uniform top, roll up his sleeves, and pass out on his couch. yellow is the lemon sitting in his drink at the bar, listening to his aunt speaking hushed tones at him over it. they both stare down at his drink as he grabs said lemon, flicks out a seed, and presses it to his lips. she's never understood why he liked lemons, too sour for her tastes, but her roy-boy has always been a little bit different. in truth, roy hates the bitter tang, the sting as the juice hits where he's chewed at the inside of his lip anxiously, but he does it because its a spark and a rush to his system. it keeps him awake, keeps him just a little bit more aware.
green, as everyone says, stands for two very different things; money and envy. they call envy the green-eyed monster, a beast that will rear and bay for blood, an emotion that simply demands to be felt. you can't control it, no matter how hard you try, and like all the other little monsters in your head, envy's voice is little and petty. roy mustang claims he does not envy. after all, a man that has everything in the world, what would he need to envy over? but he does envy, and he does it in private. he wants the rank of fuhrer, as only a few know, and he's got his fingers dipped in everything his current position can allow him. he keeps tabs on people, for his own gain, for his greed and desire. more than that, what no one knows, is that he wants to do this to better amestris. he wants to be better than fuhrer bradley. roy wants to ensure that something like ishval never happens again and no more young soldiers suffer through life with the title of 'hero'. he knows he's no hero, he's simply just another killer; another human weapon utilized by people that don't really care about peace. there's much more than just that which roy envies. self-proclaimed playboy, sometimes roy looks at maes and his life and grows jealous. his best friend's position allows him such luxuries that roy will never have. he can't afford to have a family, can't afford to even keep a stable relationship, for he is, in a word, flighty. fostering strong bonds has never been his best ability, though he considers all his subordinates his friends, and they do interact outside of work. even still, that's not quite the same. its hard to open up to someone when you know that you lead a dangerous life.
green is also leaves that cling high in the trees that shed their shade upon his face in a dappled mixture as he tries to nap outside. he takes more breaks than most people during the day and no one even says anything about it. his subordinates know he works hard, even if it looks like he's not working at all. those that know his plans for life know that those things weigh heavily on him. he doesn't plot to overthrow fuhrer bradley, but the deeper everyone digs into strange occurrences and serial killers taking out state alchemists, the more it feels like something is just wrong. like there's one huge conspiracy and the fuhrer is somehow in the middle. maes always told him that he's too fanatical about conspiracies. green is the ivy that crawls up the front his aunt's bar--brothel, really--and she's never gotten rid of it, despite how unsightly it looks sometimes. she says it gives the place character, its charming, and its sophisticated, its the perfect plant because its strong. roy never quite understood why ivy, of all things, was sophisticated, considered strong. however, he learns that ivy is resilient. it hibernates in the winter, looks all but dead, just little brown creepers clinging to a brickwork edifice. but they always come back, if you don't destroy the central root, they'll forever return. it'll just keep extending itself further and further until it takes over completely. if roy doesn't destroy the root of corruption, it'll always come back; larger, stronger, worse than before.
he stares down at his state alchemist uniform, neatly pressed and navy blue. its a symbol of how far he'd come and he dons it with waning pride every day. it is something like a symbol of victory, nontraditional. he attends the state military academy, learns a sense of purpose and self-worth. sometimes he's not sure if he'd ever achieved that goal, despite the hundreds of people depending on the things he does. he leaves his teacher, berthold hawkeye, in hopes of becoming something great; he desires to become a source of knowledge and strength for the people of amestris. its a big goal for such an insignificant person. he meets his longtime friend maes hughes, someone he opens up to for the first time in his life. they discuss their lives, their hopes, and dreams. hughes becomes roy's biggest fan, his confidante, and the one person that firmly believes he will become something great. his dreams of succession grow bigger, more vast, until he sets his sights on becoming fuhrer. and the whole time, there's hughes, chuckling at him, but never once telling roy he couldn't. if anyone believed in roy more than he did, it was maes hughes. and, perhaps, riza hawkeye, the daughter of his former teacher. its through her that he finally learns and adapts berthold's flame alchemy for his own devices. its what leads him to becoming the 'hero of ishval'; to taking hundreds of lives, innocent and otherwise. but, self-loathing and post-traumatic stress disorder are nothing compared to losing a friend.
blue is the color of the sky on a clear day, grey when its slashed with rain clouds. its sorrow and loathing, a deep aching regret and pity. there's a reason that blue is the color of sadness. sorrow just feels blue, it hurts and it resonates, it brings tears welling to eyes that have never shed them before. it is intuition that leads roy to negotiating an escape plan to free the wrongly convicted maria ross from the state prison. hughes' death is not on her. if its one thing roy is very sure of, it is of his comrades and their loyalty to him. no, maria ross may have been a stoic woman (apparently not at all affected by his flirtatious advances), but she was not a killer. she wasn't him. other than anger at losing hughes, he feels sorrow unlike anything he'd ever felt in his life. roy was too young to remember his parent's deaths, he'd been sheltered a vast majority of his life until entering the ishvalan fray, and even that guilt and disgust pales in comparison to the devastating ache of losing maes. of having to visit the man's wife and child; gracia was there for him, not the other way around. maes' death leads roy into despair. it is regret he feels at being so bland with hughes all the time, for being the dark to his light, for acting like he didn't care when he always did. he never appreciated the random phone calls before; he misses them now. its an obsession that grows, the need to find maes' killer. it leads him finally to lust.
like himself, torn between one thing and another, indigo is a color that simply can't make up its mind. blue or purple? no, a confusing mix between the two. roy is dichotomy, opposites incarnate. charming but silly, driven but lazy, narcissistic but in a way insecure. he's always weighing the options of one thing over another, always ten steps ahead of the next person. his intelligence is one of the things that people marvel at; so young, already a colonel. however, his life is made up of contradictions, and maybe he's this way just to keep people guessing. he doesn't want to be able to be read like a book, he wants to know that he can escape a situation by sheer shock-factor alone. those that know everything about him know better than to underestimate him. roy mustang has had a plan since day one, since he entered into the military academy, since he started learning alchemy, and his desire for power is both selfish and altruistic. he knows he's not a perfect person, and he acts like he's the best when, in reality, he may just be the worst. it takes a long time for him to realize that he's putting people in danger, that perhaps the needs of the few do not outweigh the needs of the many. determined and also questioning. cocksure and unclear. roy mustang is notably a charming bachelor, flirtatious, narcissistic, selfish, driven, calm. unnoticed, he is altruistic, concerned, lazy, flighty, and a ticking time bomb waiting to go off. everyone thinks they know him and no one really knows him at all. indigo is a confused color and roy mustang is a confused soul.
indigo is the color of the sky at midnight on those nights when he just can't sleep. his aunt used to tell him its because he spent too much time napping, but roy can nap for four hours and then go right back to sleep. this isn't the case. it gets worse when he's promoted, when he comes back from ishval. stars litter an unpolluted sky and roy doesn't remember the names of the constellations anymore. he stares out his window and to the city beyond, sometimes long into the morning, when the inky indigo is swept up by the vibrancy of pink and orange and yellow as the sun rises. on nights when he can't sleep and the stars twinkle overhead, roy takes the time to reflect. he's bogged down by self-doubt and loathing, by this dark little cloud that won't leave him alone. his mood swings are enormous, its a wonder he hasn't cracked by now. any weaker person may have. one thing he was raised to be was strong, weakness has no place in his life. for all his aunt's strict ways, roy does appreciate what she tried to do for him.
roy never quite understood why violet was part of the rainbow in the first place; same as indigo. surely one could suffice with red, orange, yellow, green, and blue. its always been the primary colors that are most important, and those that can be mixed to create other colors. what can you mix with violet? all seven colors of the rainbow are visible to the human eye, can be located and designated as 'pure' colors on the color spectrum, and that's why they're there. he's never quite had an affinity for violet, but the color looks good on riza hawkeye in those rare moments he gets to see her dressed down. it compliments her skin tone and her hair and offsets the warm brown of her eyes. if maes is his best friend, riza is close behind. he'd promised berthold he'd protect her, care for her, treat her with respect and support her wherever she wanted to go in life. sometimes roy isn't so sure that he's living up to this promise, no matter how much he wants to. all he seems to do is lead her into danger, helps her fall further down the rabbit hole, and she doesn't deserve this.
violet is the dresses that many of the girls like to wear at his aunt's place of business. he watches them twirl, stares at purple painted nails, bright lipstick. he's reminded of flowers. so many of these women have known him for a long time, and some of them are very new. all of them are privy to some sort of information that he wants, that his aunt gets for him. she gets very little out of it, but roy knows that she's protecting him as much as she's protecting her girls. violet is the color of the wine he swirls around in his glass while waiting for his contact. everyone thinks he comes here for fun, because he's just that kind of person. he appreciates the women here, but they're more like family than anything else. roy's never had a big family before. some of them are missing, some are a little broken, but he has a larger family now than he thought he ever would. his aunt and her girls, all like sisters to him. his subordinates, siblings. even the elric brothers are something like family. if there's one thing that he's learned through his life, one thing his aunt taught him by taking him in at all; always protect your family.