Ignis Scientia (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
chef_chocobro) wrote2022-07-24 07:30 am
chef_chocobro) wrote2022-07-24 07:30 am
The Hammerhead, Liede, Eos; Friday, June 23rd, 757 ET [07/24 FT].
As he hurried his way back to Hammerhead, Ignis braced himself, slightly, for another rant from Gladio about going off on his own. Thankfully, though, he managed to make it through the gates without any such lectures; perhaps he was starting to run out of steam about it, or was finally accepting that Ignis was just as, if not more, capable of managing the darkness outside the floodlights than any of them. He was used to it now. He did not need to depend on light to guide his way anymore. And he'd proven, time and time again, that he could manage just fine....
entirely on the task at hand. Too much of it was on concern for him. After all this time, he'd like to think they'd have realized that it was unfounded, but he supposed he should be flattered that they should still be worried. It was just easier, though, if they didn't have that particular weight on them when they worked. Besides, he was doing a very different kind of hunting, and wasn't sure if he was ready to explain to the others exactly what it was he was looking for.
He wasn't entirely sure what exactly he was looking for...
So he trudged back, having had a successful hunt down by Galdin Quay for some more aegir root for their coffers, and he headed toward the diner to drop it off and perhaps fix a little something to eat for himself and the others. But as he approached, he paused for a moment, stopping as his ears picked up on some activity going on inside. He knew the floodlights were working properly; there was a distinct difference in the darkness when it was truly dark and when there were lights to guide the way, so he didn't suspect any daemons had gotten in, but he did proceed toward the door with added caution.
The sound of something dropping. A soft murmured curse, and then Ignis had it, just like that.
"Prompto?" he asked, nudging a foot to confirm the small steps leaning to the door before venturing forth. "Are you making something?"
There was a clatter of pans, amid a few surprised sounds. "Ignis! Uh, h-hey. Yeah, I...uh, I'm making a cake."
"A cake?" Ignis moved with confidence forward, the space between the door and the cluttered kitchen, now used more for holding supplies than actual cooking, a deeply familiar one, and he leaned slightly on the cluttered counter. "What's the occasion?"
There was a long pause, where Ignis frowned, feeling Prompto's incredulous, disbelieving eyes on him.
"It's June 23rd," Prompto offered, as if that was the only explanation necessary, and Ignis' frown deepened slightly as he reached back in his memory for a particular significance to that date.
Then he had it.
"Ah," he said. "Liz's birthday..."
"You remember last year, right?" asked Prompto, a sort of nervous desperation that seemed reflected in the continued clatter of his work; Ignis had to fight the temptation to just move behind the counter, find those constantly moving hands, and hold them still for just a few moments. "Back in....back in Altissia? I made her a cake. I thought....well...maybe it...could be a tradition, you know? While we're still here, and....I'll take a picture. A few of them, probably, gotta get the right angle, you know? And I'll send them to her, wish her happy birthday, and...maybe...eventually....one will get through to her, and so she knows...so she'll know...that....even if she's already moved on....I mean, of course she has, it's been over a year, but...at least then she'll at least know...that I haven't....I haven't forgotten..."
He eventually trailed off, like an engine running out of steam, and Ignis felt the urge to move around the counter and go to Prompto for an entirely different reason now. But, instead, all he could do was sigh and try to figure out what was worth saying and what was best left kept to himself.
"I....know," said Prompto, softly, after a moment, so perhaps Ignis hadn't needed to say anything at all to convey what he was thinking, "...that's it's....probably useless. But I just..."
"There isn't much hope left in this world for us these days," Ignis allowed, helpfully, reassuringly. "It's good that there's at least someone trying to keep a little bit of it alive."
"If anything," there was a quiet sigh in Prompto's words, "I'm sure Talcott will appreciate the treat. Iris, too..."
To that, Ignis found he could only give a faint, thoughtful sort of hum, to quiet the urge to remind Prompto that supplies would only last so long; it would be increasingly more difficult for him to pursue cakes on birthdays, either for himself or for anyone else. But what he said was true. Hope was in short supply these days, and it felt cruel to just needlessly extinguish what little of it was left. Still...
But Prompto spoke again, before he could finish formulating that thought. "Don't you ever just....I mean, what about you and Goose?"
And the sigh that emerged from Ignis that was meant to shove that particular matter right back down just below the surface where it had been lingering and trying to come up for air only served to push it out. A slight hesitation, one last chance to hold it back, before he said, "With everything else I've already lost....what's one more thing?"
"....Iggy..."
Ignis held up a hand, as if to fend off any undue outpouring of sympathy or, worse, pity. "I knew," he said, "going in that I would one day have to sacrifice my persnal feelings on the matter for my duty." He hadn't expected that those personal feelings would end up running as deep as they had, but he'd had plenty of time to think things over and evaluate them, in this last year and some odd change, but there was no point in dredging any of that up. "And I know now that that duty is far from fulfilled."
He hesitated, trying to measure the silence from Prompto in that moment. "I haven't told either of you this," he said. "I've still been trying to figure out what it all might mean. But the last thing I truly saw, before the Lucii took my sight, was not Ardyn Izunia, Prompto, but a vision. Of our future. With Noct."
A shift in the air, and he could tell he had Prompto's attention with that.
"The vision included us all together again," he continued, "but we were older, much older...I..."
The words faltered slightly, as it always did, remembering things so vividly, seeing them, the only lingering images in a sea of darkness. "It's not over yet, Prompto," he said, wondering if he was doing him a favor by leaving it there and sparing him the other details, Noctis slouched over his father's sword. "But it is going to be a while. A very long time, if the visions are correct...."
It was a long while before Prompto said anything, his voice barely loudly than a whisper. "All those futures," he said quietly. "All those years of darkness. I mean, if you do the math, we could be looking at six, seven...maybe even up to ten years..."
Despite himself, Ignis smiled softly. Not a mirthful or happy one, really, but just one that was pleased that he wouldn't have to explain further. That Prompto already understood, had his own pieces to fit into the puzzle.
"Of course," Prompto added, with a sigh, "there's definitely some pretty big differences between those futures and this one...."
"Most of them," said Ignis, who figured he was more likely to remember the one instance of his own alternate-future child showing up compared to Prompto's....several, "anyway..."
Or maybe Prompto did remember that one, too, with the awkwardness that seemed to settle in the air between them, but Ignis didn't have to linger on it long, turning his head slightly as something else caught his attention.
"Prompto," he said, shoulders squaring slightly. "Your cake. I think it might be burni--"
"Oh," there was another clatter, a scrambling for the oven door, and the unmistakable tingle of smoke in his nostrils, "shit!"
[[ NFI, NFB, don't mind me, just gently nudging the timeline along with dramatic little vingettes, la~~ ]]
entirely on the task at hand. Too much of it was on concern for him. After all this time, he'd like to think they'd have realized that it was unfounded, but he supposed he should be flattered that they should still be worried. It was just easier, though, if they didn't have that particular weight on them when they worked. Besides, he was doing a very different kind of hunting, and wasn't sure if he was ready to explain to the others exactly what it was he was looking for.
He wasn't entirely sure what exactly he was looking for...
So he trudged back, having had a successful hunt down by Galdin Quay for some more aegir root for their coffers, and he headed toward the diner to drop it off and perhaps fix a little something to eat for himself and the others. But as he approached, he paused for a moment, stopping as his ears picked up on some activity going on inside. He knew the floodlights were working properly; there was a distinct difference in the darkness when it was truly dark and when there were lights to guide the way, so he didn't suspect any daemons had gotten in, but he did proceed toward the door with added caution.
The sound of something dropping. A soft murmured curse, and then Ignis had it, just like that.
"Prompto?" he asked, nudging a foot to confirm the small steps leaning to the door before venturing forth. "Are you making something?"
There was a clatter of pans, amid a few surprised sounds. "Ignis! Uh, h-hey. Yeah, I...uh, I'm making a cake."
"A cake?" Ignis moved with confidence forward, the space between the door and the cluttered kitchen, now used more for holding supplies than actual cooking, a deeply familiar one, and he leaned slightly on the cluttered counter. "What's the occasion?"
There was a long pause, where Ignis frowned, feeling Prompto's incredulous, disbelieving eyes on him.
"It's June 23rd," Prompto offered, as if that was the only explanation necessary, and Ignis' frown deepened slightly as he reached back in his memory for a particular significance to that date.
Then he had it.
"Ah," he said. "Liz's birthday..."
"You remember last year, right?" asked Prompto, a sort of nervous desperation that seemed reflected in the continued clatter of his work; Ignis had to fight the temptation to just move behind the counter, find those constantly moving hands, and hold them still for just a few moments. "Back in....back in Altissia? I made her a cake. I thought....well...maybe it...could be a tradition, you know? While we're still here, and....I'll take a picture. A few of them, probably, gotta get the right angle, you know? And I'll send them to her, wish her happy birthday, and...maybe...eventually....one will get through to her, and so she knows...so she'll know...that....even if she's already moved on....I mean, of course she has, it's been over a year, but...at least then she'll at least know...that I haven't....I haven't forgotten..."
He eventually trailed off, like an engine running out of steam, and Ignis felt the urge to move around the counter and go to Prompto for an entirely different reason now. But, instead, all he could do was sigh and try to figure out what was worth saying and what was best left kept to himself.
"I....know," said Prompto, softly, after a moment, so perhaps Ignis hadn't needed to say anything at all to convey what he was thinking, "...that's it's....probably useless. But I just..."
"There isn't much hope left in this world for us these days," Ignis allowed, helpfully, reassuringly. "It's good that there's at least someone trying to keep a little bit of it alive."
"If anything," there was a quiet sigh in Prompto's words, "I'm sure Talcott will appreciate the treat. Iris, too..."
To that, Ignis found he could only give a faint, thoughtful sort of hum, to quiet the urge to remind Prompto that supplies would only last so long; it would be increasingly more difficult for him to pursue cakes on birthdays, either for himself or for anyone else. But what he said was true. Hope was in short supply these days, and it felt cruel to just needlessly extinguish what little of it was left. Still...
But Prompto spoke again, before he could finish formulating that thought. "Don't you ever just....I mean, what about you and Goose?"
And the sigh that emerged from Ignis that was meant to shove that particular matter right back down just below the surface where it had been lingering and trying to come up for air only served to push it out. A slight hesitation, one last chance to hold it back, before he said, "With everything else I've already lost....what's one more thing?"
"....Iggy..."
Ignis held up a hand, as if to fend off any undue outpouring of sympathy or, worse, pity. "I knew," he said, "going in that I would one day have to sacrifice my persnal feelings on the matter for my duty." He hadn't expected that those personal feelings would end up running as deep as they had, but he'd had plenty of time to think things over and evaluate them, in this last year and some odd change, but there was no point in dredging any of that up. "And I know now that that duty is far from fulfilled."
He hesitated, trying to measure the silence from Prompto in that moment. "I haven't told either of you this," he said. "I've still been trying to figure out what it all might mean. But the last thing I truly saw, before the Lucii took my sight, was not Ardyn Izunia, Prompto, but a vision. Of our future. With Noct."
A shift in the air, and he could tell he had Prompto's attention with that.
"The vision included us all together again," he continued, "but we were older, much older...I..."
The words faltered slightly, as it always did, remembering things so vividly, seeing them, the only lingering images in a sea of darkness. "It's not over yet, Prompto," he said, wondering if he was doing him a favor by leaving it there and sparing him the other details, Noctis slouched over his father's sword. "But it is going to be a while. A very long time, if the visions are correct...."
It was a long while before Prompto said anything, his voice barely loudly than a whisper. "All those futures," he said quietly. "All those years of darkness. I mean, if you do the math, we could be looking at six, seven...maybe even up to ten years..."
Despite himself, Ignis smiled softly. Not a mirthful or happy one, really, but just one that was pleased that he wouldn't have to explain further. That Prompto already understood, had his own pieces to fit into the puzzle.
"Of course," Prompto added, with a sigh, "there's definitely some pretty big differences between those futures and this one...."
"Most of them," said Ignis, who figured he was more likely to remember the one instance of his own alternate-future child showing up compared to Prompto's....several, "anyway..."
Or maybe Prompto did remember that one, too, with the awkwardness that seemed to settle in the air between them, but Ignis didn't have to linger on it long, turning his head slightly as something else caught his attention.
"Prompto," he said, shoulders squaring slightly. "Your cake. I think it might be burni--"
"Oh," there was another clatter, a scrambling for the oven door, and the unmistakable tingle of smoke in his nostrils, "shit!"
[[ NFI, NFB, don't mind me, just gently nudging the timeline along with dramatic little vingettes, la~~ ]]