chef_chocobro | The Creepy Abandoned Mansion; Saturday Evening [09/23].

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The Creepy Abandoned Mansion; Saturday Evening [09/23].

Well, Ignis had won a bet (entirely fairly, mind you; yes, it was on a particularly petty technicality, but technically correct was the best kind of correct, and he suspected a valuable lesson about word choice had been learned, as well), which meant that he was cooking dinner for Liliana that evening. A good portion of the day yesterday was spent brainstorm, his mind a flurry of ideas as he lay on the couch, flipping one of his new knives in his hand with deceptive idleness. A whole catalogue of recipes flipped through his mind, each one being summarily dismissed for some minor unworthy offense, until a few seemed to fall into place perfectly, and he caught the night with one hand, snapped his fingers with the other and let out a resounding "That's it!" and started getting to work then because the sooner he was able to whip up the marinade for the steaks, the better.

So he arrived at Liliana's doorstep without too much trouble, with all his ingredients and prep work in hand, a few things he knew he couldn't chance Liliana not having on hand. There was a small bit of uncertainty with working in an unfamiliar kitchen, but he'd made do with pretty scant conditions before. Just so long as there was a place to chill the sauternes he'd brought to accompany the fluffy chiffon cake for dessert.

But first? Getting set up for cooking his pomegranate balsamic flank steak, and preparing the salad and the potatoes, with a good malbec waiting to bring it all together in the end.

That was certainly the plan, anyway, but its effectiveness relied solely on how distracting the hostess decided to be. But it would certainly seem that he'd chosen dishes that did not require a lot of maintenance and fuss for a reason, too.

[[ for she whose kithen is being invaded, of course~

*belatedly tacks on a *nsfw* cw, doo doo doo ]]

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Well, Ignis knew his friends could be a chatty bunch, but that made an eyebrow lift.

"Before," he said. "By about a month, month and a half."

Shoulda let her bond with them by slapping your ass, Ignis. Instead now they have to use their words. You did this to you.

"Is this how Noctis--" she paused. "I could keep asking questions to situate this in what I know of what happened in Eos, but it might be easier to simply ask for the story directly." Her chilly fingers travelled back up his face, outlining the scars there briefly before sliding over to follow the curve of his ear. Liliana was curious about the magic that had caused his scars, but Ignis had never gotten the feeling she was all that curious about the scars themselves. They were simply there, a feature of his face like his nose or high cheekbones, to be neither fixated in nor avoided.

"Unless, of course, you'd rather regale me with the tale of how you learned to love cooking, especially since you could not have possibly known that it would one day help in your seduction of a charming necromancer."

"Well," Ignis' voice was much quieter, much softer; how could it be anything else, really, as he leaned a little bit into her roving touch, "if we're keeping track, I believe you're a bit overdue to be regaling me. I have to admit, though, this game does make it rather difficult to get very far in unraveling a narrative thread effectively, doesn't it?"

"I guess we'll just have to continue to find time to keep playing in order to get all the way through," Liliana mused, since the other option would be to have a conversation like normal people and who would even do that?

"Though...if we wanted to, you could tell me your story all at once, and then hold me accountable for an equivalent number or depth of answers," she added. "If you feel that I can be counted upon to satisfy." She took a long sip of her wine. "The debt between us, I mean."

Ignis was quiet for a moment, perhaps considering the options that opened up for him, perhaps just considering the most streamlined, efficient way to explain further. And all the millions of other questions it was sure to bring up.

"We were in Altissia," he offered, knowing the name would mean nothing, but attempting to set the scene all the same, "for several different things that all ended up cultivating into a perfect storm of everything you don't want to happen all at once. The city was under attack from the Empire at the same time Leviathan, the Tide Mother, one of our gods, made it very clear she had no intention of making a pact with Noctis, while another god, Titan, the Archaean, who had made a pact with him, attempted to fight her into submission. And on the middle of all of this, Ardyn...well, I don't even know where to even begin with Ardyn Izunia...but let is just say that things were dire. Both of us, beaten, battered, bruised, and one wrong move from complete annihilation at his hand. Until I noticed. The Ring of the Lucii, passed down from generation to generation of Lucian kings, now in the possession of the newly crowned King Noctis Lucis Caelum, or rather....it had been. In the fray, it had slipped away from him, but it was right within my reached."

He paused a moment, for a bite, a sip to wash it down.

"The Ring of the Lucii contains all the power of all the Lucian kings of the past, to be wielded by the next in the bloodline so that they could impart their wisdom and powers to the next king, a power only to be wielded by the Lucian heir.

"But it was the only option I had. I knew bearing the ring would kill me, but I also knew that there was no way Noct could survive without their power."

There was a smile, but it was thin and grim.

"They were so moved by my willing sacrifice that they decided to spare me. And just leave me blind instead. And the day was...mostly saved."

That had not been at all what Liliana had been assuming the answer would be when told that an enclave of dead kings had blinded him.

"That certainly explains the addition of 'tragically' to your loyalty," she murmured. She reached for his face again, cupping it between gentle palms, and leaned in to brush cool lips to the corner of each cloudy eye. Had she ever been that loyal? To anyone outside of herself?

No, never. And never would, either.

But, for once, Liliana didn't immediately think of how to use that loyalty for her own ends. She would get there, because that is who she was, but for this briefest moment, she was perhaps more of the girl she had been, back when she'd been a cleric fostering with Lady Ana, and less of the woman she'd become in the decades since. "Perhaps they weren't showing you mercy, but the world that would be less for your loss instead."

"Oh, did you think I was just being dramatic about that part?" asked Ignis, with a faint, amused huff, made significantly less wry thanks to the gentle brush of her lips and his hand drawn up to hers while she held his face.

"But no. They basically told me as much. Although I am grateful. Imagine, my life cut short before I could ever even hope to dream of being seduced by charming necromancers. If was want to speak of tragedy..."

Liliana had never been very big on people telling her she should be grateful for things (again, hypocritically, as she didn't shy away from doing the same to others) and was fairly certain she would have picked a fight with these kings anyway. If they'd wanted to be that precious about who used their powers, perhaps they should have worked harder on not dying.

"Loyalty often leads to tragedy, but few people like to admit it out loud," she said, brushing her nose against his before doing the same with their lips. Only then did she pull away so they could continue actually eating their dinners.

Which was, again, how he could tell her flattery was sincere.

"Fortunately, that horror was averted," she said. "And I--mmm. One moment, actually."

The rustling of her gown was loud as she got up and crossed to the door, speaking softly to her steward and giving instructions about fetching dessert in a few minutes. And it rustled loudly on the way back as well, falling silent only when she took her chair once more.

"I decided that I was going to be selfish and keep you, rather than run the risk of losing you to my kitchen when it came time for dessert," she said, her tone very smug for no discernable reason.

Edited 2023-09-24 05:10 (UTC)

When Liliana kissed him, Ignis found himself leaning into it, far less invested in enjoying the meal as she was, since, when you get right down to it, when he cooked, it was rarely for himself. But he also found himself wondering if those words were said more out of sympathy or pity. He didn't usually care much for either, and he needed to work out how he felt about any of them coming from her.

Not now, obviously. One more thing of many to be added to the long list of things to brood about later, but he certainly wasn't going to waste energy on it now. Not when he could instead be thinking about how charmeuse could really be quite the loud fabric when it had a mind to be, imagining Liliana moving across the room as she got up from the table and trying to construct an idea of the cut of her dress from various clues gathered earlier, though that left his mind only drifting again to the feeling of her hair between her fingers.

"Of all the places in which to potentially be lost," he noted, "I would usually prefer a kitchen, but tonight, I think I might take exception to that, when there are far better options. And that does grant us that much more time for your answer to my next question."

Perhaps in time, he'd come to realize that Liliana Vess didn't do pity. It wasn't her style. Sympathy was possible, but quite rare, too.

He'd likely figure out just what she'd meant - and why - much sooner that that, however.

"I do owe you answers," she agreed. "Either one with depth, or several all at once, to make good."

"Preferably the first one," said Ignis, though he certainly wouldn't be so bold as to assume his preferences would have any convincing influence on the matter, of course. "I do enjoy quality over quantity. But..."

He did, also, enjoy narrative pauses.

"What got you into necromancy?"

It all depended on what he asked!

Luckily for him, he had, in fact, chosen an answer that lent itself very well to depth. And also luckily for him, his wording meant she could give him a generally honest answer.

"I was thirteen when my father began my tutelage with Lady Ana," she said, settling in comfortably and reaching for her wine to sip. "She'd been staying with us anyway, since my youngest sister's birth had been hard on my mother and Lady Ana had helped her through it and recover afterwards. I'd had enough magic even back then to learn magical healing as well as the healing of knife and herb and she was both a noblewoman and an important member of the Forward Order, which meant my parents could quite trust her to keep me out of trouble and learning what I'd need to know as a cleric and the daughter of a count as well." She shrugged and said with a wry smile, "She had varying luck with those. I think I have lovely manners and I was certainly eager to learn healing..."

But keeping Liliana from doing what she'd wanted had always been something of a fool's game.

"I was eager to learn healing, but I was also ambitious and impatient." To Ignis' utter shock, probably. "Her methods took so long, were so tedious. I didn't want to learn eight various weaves of gauze and ninety-two ways of rolling each of them, or the twelve different ways to chop herbs, or any of that. I wanted to learn how to save lives, how to cure the most grievous wounds and insidious illnesses. At some point, probably after a day spent learning the fifty-fourth way to strain a poultice in case the other fifty-three proved useless, I ended up going going to our library to see what we had for books to supplement my own learning. Real learning, not just rote memorization. And amongst our collection, I found several books that taught the basics of necromancy. At their heart, the two are quite connected, you know. You need to fully understand how bodies work to excel at either. Bring a zombie back that's missing certain tendons or ligaments, it'll be useless at the task you're raising it for. Harm the wrong part of the brain while pulling out memories and you've left the victim a drooling husk. Or dead. The foundations overlap quite a bit, they just look in different directions."

She finished her wine and set it down, not bothering to refill the glass. "And that was how I got my start. Barely more than a girl, reading dusty necromantic times in her family's graveyard - it was quiet and I have always had a commitment to aesthetics - frustrated at the speed of her education and wanting to become a brilliant healer and help our people win the war. Though, admittedly, I was much more skilled at necromancy than healing, even then."

Edited 2023-09-24 12:49 (UTC)

Well. Ignis had asked for quality, and Liliana had provided it in spades with that answer. He'd leaned forward slightly, as she began, an ear tilted slightly more her way as he listened, intently, for the chance to add even more to the increasingly more complex and enchanting perception of this woman who had begun to invade nearly every corner of his mind in the past few weeks. The vague silhouette becoming slowly more articulated and actualized. He eventually settled back comfortably in his chair, glass in hand, though he didn't do much drinking from it, as she continued, and when she finished, he was quiet for a moment, as if taking the time to ensure that all the various tidbits and suggestions and confirmations and further questions were neatly organized, arranged, and filed away precisely where he would need them to be.

Then a sip of his wine, and he set what remained back down on the table as he leaned forward slightly again.

"And which," he asked, "do you like better?"

"I am a necromancer," Liliana pointed out with a wry smile. "I gave up healing a very long time ago."

She was still smiling when she said it, still sounded archly nonchalant, but Ignis was nothing if not perceptive. And he was getting the distinct impression that asking why would sour the mood.

It was also, generally, harder to notice a lack of sound than it was a sound itself, but again, perceptive. Which was why he also noted that since Liliana had sat down, her dress hadn't rustled once, even all the times she'd moved and shifted while talking or sipping her wine or finishing up her meal with another one of those pleased sighs.

"I mean, I still remember all those tedious lessons Lady Ana taught me: the healing properties of roots and herbs, the signs and symptoms of hundreds of illnesses, mixing potions and tisanes and poultices. And I do draw on those skills from time to time, when there's nothing else for it. But I am a black mana user and its application for magical healing is very limited."

Ah, but that didn't really answer his question, did it? A greater skill for something did not always translate into a greater love for it, and were Ignis a more foolish man, he might have pointed that out. But not answering the question, especially with that subtle edge of warning, might be an answer all of its own. Certainly nothing to poke at now, but definitely something to be tucked away to consider another time.

After all, he had no want for things to consider at the moment anyway, and, right now, he was consider the end of the meal, the curious quietness of a previously whispering dress, a tumble of hair, and frank statements of intention.

And of distances and fortresses and crumbling walls.

His fingers drifted for a moment along the base of his glass, thumb and forefinger playing at the stem, before he picked it up, lightly, swirling it around as if to determine how much wine remained inside.

"So, then," he said, "do I return to the question about my cooking now, or do have an alternate question to ask now instead?"

Crumbling walls were a staple of the public perception of necromancy...

"Oh no, I'm still quite curious about you learning to cook." She splayed a hand over his heart, feeling it thump under her palm. "The story of a man discovering one of his passions is not to be missed."

And even though that thumping steadily regulated after that initial surge when Liliana's hand landed, it still pulsed quicker than Ignis would have preferred, despite his best efforts.

"Do you remember," he asked, "those tarts I brought into your shop the other day?"

It was hard to believe, really, that that had only been a couple of days ago, or how anyone involved could forget. Woe to him, indeed, if she had.

Edited 2023-09-24 14:27 (UTC)

And, as a necromancer and ex-healer both, he could rest assured the elevated rate was noted.

"I will admit, my attention was drawn away from them quite sharply not long after I received them," she said with an impish smile. "But they made for an excellent lunch that day and the next."

There was a soft, prideful (yes, prideful, certainly not without a side of relief) huff to accompany the smile at Liliana's answer, and his glass was set down again so that hand could be better utilized by drifting over to the her on his chest. "Well," he began, "they're a well-known dessert in an area of our world called Tenebrae, and Noctis, in his youth, spent a spell there while recovering from an injury. Naturally, as an eight year old already developing an abysmally picky palate, the little treats became a quick favorite of his, only to lead to a devastating realization, once he returned to Insomnia, that they were actually entirely unique to Tenebrae and hardly anyone in Lucis had ever even heard of them, much less knew how to make them. Eventually, as I started to....very reluctantly, mind you; ensuring proper nutrition in Noct was a challenge I was actually not looking forward to tackling....take on the duties of cooking for our young prince, and he would constant bemoan and be wistful over this elusive sweet of his past, I saw in it a challenge I could actually see myself pursuing. From there, I set out to put together this puzzle of a pastry, and, after several years of trial and error, adjustments and reconsiderations and experimentations....I finally mastered it."

Here, he paused, taking a moment to relive that moment privately before letting it be shared.

"And the look on his face when he took that first bite....changed everything, and I saw for the first time that food could be so much more than just nourishment for the body, but for the soul as well."

He felt her nod to that and her long moment of thoughtful consideration. One could be forgiven for assuming that she was, perhaps, thinking about her own such moments of food as a balm; that moment in a city with alabaster walls, perhaps, or some dish unique to her homeland.

But her next question proved that potential assumption incorrect. She knew full well it wasn't her turn; she also knew she didn't care. "What dish nourishes your soul, Ignis?"

Luckily, even Ignis had long since abandoned any sort of regulation on balances of questions and answers, and that certainly was a good one. He had his favorites, of course, those meals that seemed to revitalize and inspire him in ways that many others didn't. To choose just one was always a conundrum, but there was one answer that came first before all others, especially after he'd laid not just one, but two parts of that soul to bare already...

But there was an opportunity there, too, to answer to a hunger completely divorced from food, an opportunity that almost seemed too good to pass up. And, well, if she was going to be greedy...

His hand moved to cup her face, both convenient excuse to touch her as well as work as a guide for him to lean forward to kiss her, the kind of kiss that kept wanting more the long it went.

"Coffee," he then answered, with a smile no doubt more felt and heard than seen with how he barely pulled away to say it. "Good, strong, dark coffee."

[[ guess who entirely missed the notification on this one, oof ]]

Liliana laughed, low and breathy. "Noted," she murmured and leaned forward to kiss him again.

Moaning softly into the kiss, her noises were swallowed by his mouth. She moved closer to him, all but pressing herself against him and if Ignis hadn't noticed before - doubtful- her lack of dress was impossible to ignore now. She was still wearing something, he could hear the sound of her boots on the floor as she pushes herself closer, could feel a fragile confection of lace and gossamer against her skin.

Their kisses lengthened, lingered. Would break for air before hungrily diving back in for another. Her steward's arrival was heralded by careful footfalls, setting down the bottle of wine and the dessert he'd gathered from the fridge. He barely had a chance to intone, "Dessert," before he was shooed off by an inpatient gesture from Liliana.

It has not been sympathy or pity that had motivated her command, but the selfish desire to keep him beside her, even for the short length of time it would have taken for him to fetch dessert himself.

[All good!]

Well, now, who didn't love a good costume change leading into the next act? There was no small amount of satisfaction in the confirmation of which of the two possibilities for Liliana's suddenly mostly silent wardrobe was at play here, and Ignis very clearly needed to know more. When she moved in closer, he pushed back his chair, to make more room, to draw her in closer and into his lap to close the gap and make it that much easier for his hands to take in the details that his eyes could not.

Of course, he'd been aware of the apparent arrival of dessert, a sliver of his brain always reserved for that survival instinct of awareness, though it was, admittedly, dulled significantly in favor of those deep, longing kisses. It helped, too, that he was willing to dismiss it entirely right now. Ironic, really, as dessert had been chosen specifically as one of those favorites that could have been the answer to her last question, but in that moment, he was wondering if his initial response was far more accurate than he'd thought.

As proven before on the beach, Liliana had no qualms about climbing into his lap, only this time she chose not to straddle him. Instead she sat on his lap, back pressed against his chest, hand gliding up into his hair again to as her mouth angled over her shoulder slightly to seek his. And if her hips undulated slightly in his lap, well, clearly she was just making sure she was comfortable on her new seat.

But this position did make it easy for his hands to explore her new costume. Her boots were her favorite pair, supple leather that reached above her knees with a crisscross pattern of lacing in the front. Beneath those were silk stockings that extended higher to mid-thigh, held in place by a garter belt, one of which had a cunning little knife sheathe worked into it, currently empty. The garter spanned several inches of otherwise bare flesh before his fingers met the hem of a negligee, whisper-soft and thin as a dream, made of gossamer so fine he could likely pull the whole thing through a bracelet if he had a mind to, all of it nearly as soft as her hair, spilling down over his shoulder now as she continued kissing him.

Any moan released into her lips at any undulation was clearly just a deep approval of her comfort.

And while Ignis' hands had clearly luxuriated in mapping out the details of the new outfit and appreciate the fabrics, the cut, the...accessories (a moment of lingering on that sheathe in particular, its emptiness, and the interplay of intrigue, disappointment, and marked, logical relief that went with it)...it was then Liliana's skin that was getting all the attention, fingertips dragged down her neck, across her collarbone, circling around the curve of her shoulder. He caught her lower lips between his teeth for a moment before pulling away and ducking his head. He kissed her shoulder as if that circle had been making a mark for him, the fingers now drifting slowly down her arm while his lips moved in toward her neck, clearly reveling in the ease of it from this position.

The Creepy Abandoned Mansion; Saturday Evening [09/23].

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