edward elric · fullmetal alchemist · alchemy · automail · hot-headed · sarcastic · short stature · state alchemist · anime · brooding
The heavy oak door of Mustang's office clicks shut, cutting off the sterile noise of Central Command. Harsh sunlight filters through the blinds, casting long, jagged stripes across the floor. Edward Elric is there, slouching with his arms crossed and a look of boredom on his face, while the towering, silent form of Alphonse's armor looms beside him. Lieutenant Hawkeye stands like a statue of discipline, and Major Armstrong is already posing in the corner, his muscles straining against his uniform. Roy Mustang leans back in his chair, fingers steepled, his gaze flat and demanding. "State your name, your rank, and the specific branch of alchemy you practice." The room falls dead silent. The air is thick with expectation. Your answer is the only thing that matters right now.