chef_chocobro | A Quiet Spot on the Beach; Wednesday Evening [09/11].

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A Quiet Spot on the Beach; Wednesday Evening [09/11].

The quiet spot on the beach was the same, as was the fisherman's paella, but the date, the fruit salad, and the wine were all different, as Ignis had been saving one of the bottles they'd cultivated together in Argentina with the hopes to bring it out for this exact occasion: a celebration of the very first meal he'd ever cooked for Liliana, on this very same beach, as a bold response to a coy and cloying inquiry that had not only kicked off his experience at last year's Three Minute Dates, but had also fundamentally altered the trajectory of his life in ways he would have never imagined were even possible.

It was hard to put into words exactly how completely and extraordinarily things had changed for him during this past year, and so Ignis wasn't even going to try. In fact, he was just going to do what he knew was a far better way for him to communicate all of that, the same method he'd used to channel all the things that couldn't be expressed otherwise, for one reason or another: by pouring it all into food instead.

And so, his camp station was set up, there was achingly familiar music drifting quietly from a familiar music box, there was an excess of fruit that was not going into the salad to satisfy any grazing fingers, a spoon that being ostentatiously flipped far more than could ever be necessary, and, of course, someone to share it all with.

[[ and the post is for that someone~ ]]

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An impediment? No. A lingering distraction that seemed to leave an impression on him as if she'd dug those nails in and left marks that almost made him want to abandon dinner altogether just to see what further damage she could do? Oh, most undeniably. But even with that deep desire thrumming inside of him, once he did actually get around to arranging the proteins within the dish to now join the medley of flavors building as he worked, his attention shifted more towards that, and the drift of her fingers became more of just a welcomed soothing comfort, a reassurance that he was quite content in enjoying as he worked on the next thing.

And just as he was finishing and thinking about how to continue filling the time between waiting, her voice reached him, dark and rich like Ebony for his ears, with that inquisitive lilt that made the fond smile on his face now impossible to avoid.

And it was a good question, too, a difficult one, because of course his inclination was to want to find something particularly good or interesting, what what was there in that category that she didn't already know? That she hadn't already discovered? He felt he'd always been a fairly open book for her; it was just that the prose was rather simple. Straightforward. Purposeful. Hardly any deep trenches of poetry with layers of meaning with each dig. But that did make him think, with another soft huff, of at least a good way to buy himself a little more time while he tried to think.

It would also come with a glass of wine, now opened and poured with the first glass handed out to Liliana after he'd set everything for the last leg of its cooking journey.

"Why?" he asked, smirking now with his offering and a lift of his good brow. "So you can use it against me later? I mention a passing fondness for blueberries, and the next thing I know, my voicemail is inundated with prose that makes it impossible for me to taste one again without thinking of you."

"Why of course, my darling," Liliana said, taking of sip of the wine - of their wine - and making a noise of pleased surprise. It was not the brassy voignier of their first date and she already had ideas of what and how they could improve later (and was sure Ignis had more), but it was still more than passable for a first attempt. "Absolutely. I intend to haunt every single thing I can, until my spectre exists in everything you eat or drink or love." Her smile and tone were teasing, her eyes...less so, as she laid out her plans.. "Your seafood paella is forever linked with me now, and your chiffon cake, and even your Ebony is influenced by the taste of it off my lips and a car ride by the sea. Why shouldn't I, my 'Nys? What kind of lackluster opponent would I be if I carelessly left advantages upon the field?"

She drifted forwards until she was once again pressed against his chest. "Will you truly hold it against me if I admit that I wish to never be far from your thoughts and with happily stack the deck in my favor to make that so? I assure you, 'Nys, you're more than worth the effort."

Oh, that brief moment of surprise that told Ignis that Liliana had no doubt tried the wine and that it had caught her just slightly off-guard was indeed sweeter than anything he could ever hope to serve, and he savored it with his own sip (and, yes, indeed, quite a few notes, including one to pay a bit more attention to harvesting months for their next venture into vintnership). But while it was quite good, his attention was only for something much better. Let him get drunk, instead, on that smoky drawl and all the ways in which she had claimed every little aspect of his life, and made it richer, brighter, more worthwhile. The ways in which it became increasingly more difficult to imagine a world untouched by those cool hands, and why would have want to imagine such a thing, anyway?

Tell her something about himself? That she didn't already know? Impossible, what more could there truly be to uncover, when she already knew so much more than anyone ever had?

"That's just the thing, though, 'Iana," he said, arm around her as she pressed into him, one hand gently curling underneath her chin. "You needn't make any effort at all. You never have. From the very moment I met you, nothing could ever be the same again. Though you know I will always appreciate a good, thorough strategy, flawlessly executed."

Sounded like another trip down to Argentina needed to be planned out to take advantage of the harvest season. Though Liliana would need to make sure that Ignis didn't spend all his time in the fields or the winery and remembered that she, like a delicate hothouse flower, required attention too, lest she also wither away on the vine.

...She didn't foresee much difficulty there.

"My darling, you are confusing 'need' and 'want' again," Liliana playfully chided. "I know I don't need to. That doesn't stop me from wanting to. You are worth the effort, you ridiculous man, and I shall remind you of that as long as you need to hear it."

"Well," Ignis reasoned lightly in the face of this stern dressing-down of his evaluation, "and if there's one thing we all know Liliana Vess won't suffer, it's effort for the sake of anything she doesn't expressly want."

And what had started as just a playful jibe back had, of course, wound up striking on something much deeper and more resonate, and Ignis immediately felt his heart growing a bit more soft and tender and aching again. Things like that aforementioned chiffon cake, for his birthday, or all those ornaments with the photographs for Christmas. Learning how to drive just to bring him a perfect day, and dragging everyone off to a different plane for a concert because Prompto helped her to learn and Prompto liked music and was important to him...

Ignis kissed her. He slid his hand along her cheek and into her hair and kissed her again, as if that ache in his chest had spread all through him and that kiss was the only thing that could possibly begin to soothe it. He had been planning to mention the paella, to divert their attention back to it, to check and see if the mussels had opened yet, to continue deftly dancing around her prompt to tell her something, to see how long it took her to call him out on his seamless avoidance. But now all he wanted to do was kiss her and finally answer her, even if the only things that came to mind were either just inane and trivial, or simply repeating over and over until his voice was hoarse that he loved her.

(Though he didn't imagine she'd take much issue with that, either).

"You know I used to wear glasses," he informed her, smiling softly once he pulled back for a deep breath of air, thumb returning to brush against her cheek as he spoke. "But I didn't actually need them. I could see perfectly fine without them. But I didn't want just perfectly fine, I wanted to perfection, period. And so, with the most miniscule prescription, I made sure my world became that much more clear and precise and sharp."

"You know, I find myself surprised not at all by that?" Liliana said with a chuckle, turning her face slightly to brush her mouth against his thumb, let it linger briefly on the soft pad of her lips, another wholly unnecessary (but completely necessary) reminder of just how lush and inviting they were.

"It's true, I cannot imagine you settling for anything less than perfection," she admitted with a laugh. "Besides, I bet you liked how they added to your 'stern and uncompromising' aura. I would have had such a delightful time tweaking your nose - both literally and figuratively - while you glared at me with your arms crossed. Or pushing them back up while telling me I wasn't cute, which I would have immediately had to disagree with on the ground of how demonstrably false that allegation was."

"And why do I," Ignis retorted, the low dry drawl overlaid with soft fondness, with maybe just the smallest twinge of some sort of sadness in there, "find myself surprised by that not at all? But don't forget. They were also quite stylish as well."

He leaned in for another kiss, a much lighter, softer one, though no less heartfelt than some of the previous ones that were all but bursting with their passion.

"And now," he said, "your turn. Tell me something about yourself, my darling," because while the Book of Ignis was sure to be but a slim, concise tome indeed, no doubt hers would require several hulking volumes, "while I take a moment to see if our mussels have opened yet."

"There are a hundred hundred things I could tell you," Liliana said, staying him for a moment with her hand. "Ask me something."

She reached for his face again. "You are content to let my secrets be my secrets and I love you deeply for that." Even with all those times that those secrets had then reared up on them both. "But I know you have questions. And I would--today--if you wished..."

Call it an anniversary gift, a gift of herself in a way that she rarely, if ever, offered up. She slowly, but surely, was discovering she wanted him to know her further, but didn't know what to say or how or even what he'd want to know.

But a gift of an answer to a question? That she could do. And let him know just how deeply her trust for him went.

But again, not words she could say. So just the offer and the hope he would understand what she was offering and why and take it.

And Ignis' first impulse was tell Liliana that, no, he didn't wish, that he didn't want to ask her of anything that she did not to freely tell him herself. There were times, of course, where he felt he needed to ask, but hadn't they already drifted down this difference between want and need? Because she was right; he had contented himself to let her secrets be secrets, the importance she placed on privacy and mystique and keeping those cards incredibly close to her very ample chest. And while he liked to think that he knew her far better than even she realized, he had made peace with the fact that there were some things he may just never know...

But he also recognized it for what it was, the inherent trust being offered to him now. As well as the traps inherent in them. Did he ask about something as blithe and inconsequential as his own little tidbit a second ago, emphasizing his dedication to her secrets, but risking negating the depths of this gift or being dismissive of it? Or what if he did ask about those big, looming ones that he was always just waiting to come and bite him in the ass? What if he tread too closely to to someone she didn't want to reveal (and he should have known better) and the whole thing soured fast? He still remembered with a dreadful knot in his stomach the time she came home from Innistrad, after having been attacked in her home, covered in blood and picking pieces of glass from her hair...

What if he asked a question and got an answer he didn't want?

And then there was a matter of a different sort of question, not about her, but about them. Ask me something, she said, and there'd been something he'd been agonizing over asking for months now.

And that almost led him to some sort of hint of closing in on an actual answer, but he could hear the paella softly bubbling on the stove, reminding him that if he took much longer, surely it would be overcooked, and that at least settled a response for now.

"May I get back to you on that?" he asked, with a weak, apologetic sort of smile. "You know I don't like to be too hasty with things, and, well...when there is so much to choose from, one does feel a bit of pressure, to ensure that they choose well."

And he was, if he was entirely honest with himself, a bit disappointed, really, that there hadn't been anything that she would just...want to share with him. Without provocation, or prompting, besides just that initially volleying back of the game she's started. Be it big or small, joyful or melancholy....

But Liliana played byher rules, or she played not at all.

"Of course," she said, drawing away and then moving away. "I'll get the bowls for you to fill."

They must have been harder for her to find than expected because she took longer than expected and when she returned, she did so without a callback to any of the playful banter from last year. Another long moment stretched out between them, and then finally Liliana blurted out. "I never wore purple until Innistrad."

Ugh, that had been gracelessly done, but she'd already started. Might as well commit. "It was far too expensive a dye, imported from the Spice Islands. After the birth of the twins, Father got mother a purple scarf - light purple, almost a lilac - and it was probably the most expensive thing she owned. And she had jewels. Not many, but some. I think it cost him several horses to buy it. I was an acolyte of the Forward Order, so I wore mostly white, with some greens and golds."

Oh, whenever Liliana moved away like that, it always felt as if she'd gone and carved out of portion of Ignis and took it with her. Even worse, when it was followed by such silence, and he was left reprimanding himself for overthinking it, for not just saying one of the first things to come to his mind (or any of the things that came to mind, there certainly hadn't been a shortage of them!), for once more, in trying to side-step the wrong response, tripping over his feet straight into a different wrong response instead.

At least he had checking the paella to focus on for a moment, leaving him even more surprised when Liliana spoke, not some rote filler about grabbing bowls or whatever other menial task in front of them. His attention shifted her way, feeling compelled to ask if he'd maybe even heard her say anything at all, and then she was continuing.

The tension he hadn't entirely realized he was holding had loosened, and he smiled, not as imperceptivity as he'd have liked to have thought. He killed the flame on the stone and moved over to take the bowls from Liliana, leaning in for a soft kiss as he did so.

"Purple is a far better color for you anyway, 'Iana," he said. "Though I suppose I am a bit biased; I've always been quite partial to it myself. May I ask a follow-up question? Well, full disclosure, it's actually two but one rather depends on the answer to the other."

She couldn't say it didn't sting, a bit, but one of her mantras was 'never let them see you flinch,' and so, she wouldn't. Simple as that.

"Of course, darling," she replied. "Am I to assume, then, that you don't wish this to cost the question I offered you? Mmm, that might require a kiss."

There was, at that, a small hesitation. A smoother path to embark on, perhaps, to just brush it aside, move along well enough. But it was that sort of desire to avoid the wrong thing that ended him up with the wrong thing anyway, and so he found himself unable to do so again. Especially as he was perhaps understanding what the issue had been in the first place.

He shook his head.

"All the kisses you want," he said, "are yours, but freely given. This will be my question, although it's technically two. If you can bend the rules, darling, then so can I."

And so, before he began to second-guess himself yet again, he asked: "Do you possess that scarf of your mother's? Considering how you left your home, however, it seems incredibly unlikely. In which case, what was your first item of purple clothing, then?"

Liliana shook her head. "I don't," she said. "I was at the fortress and our mother and sisters were at the manor."

Thank Gaea. Or else they also would have died that day.

...Funny how she still spoke in plural still, instead of the singular

"And our father was still out with the troops. The battle might even have been still been going on, I don't know." She had never even found out how the battle had ended.

"And it was a corset. A deep purple leather corset. My third year at Witherbloom. I lost it decades ago, but I loved it."

Ignis may have, admittedly, still been a bit too in his own head to notice the plural at first, but, at the second use, it was impossible not to notice, and he gave a small nod. A thoughtful hum. And began to ladle out some paella for her.

"Was there anything in particular," he asked, hedging his bets a little more freely now, when it came to subtly attempting to squeeze more questions in, "about that corset that caught your eye?"

"There were threads of iridescent thread worked through it, so that literally caught my eye," she said. "We were walking through a tiny town and I saw a sparkle out of the corner of my eye and looked over and there it was, in a display window. It was beautiful, just intricately tooled and worked, and the color was just so rich and deep. I couldn't pass it up."

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A Quiet Spot on the Beach; Wednesday Evening [09/11].

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