Voicemail.

[chef_chocobro]

"You have reached the voicemail of Ingis Scientia. I am unavailable to take your call at this moment, but if you would please leave a message, I will assuredly get back to you as soon as possible."

**BEEEEEEP**

___________________
[[ In creating this journal, the author has assumed the identity of a fictional person for use in the role-playing game fandomhigh, for the sole purpose of entertainment, without intending to obtain a benefit or to injure or defraud either the creator(s) of the fictional person, or any reader of this content. The author does not purport to be the creator of the fictional person, or to be affiliated with the creator, or with any person or entity with an interest in the fictional person. The author does not claim to be the person who is being used as the graphical representation of that fictional person, nor intend to obtain a benefit or to injure or defraud that person by use of their image. ]]

Comments

Wacky Phone Day!

[badassprodigy]

So. After a nice moment last night, Barry had come to a decision. He weighed out all the probabilities and decided this was the best course of action. At the very least he'd get a snarky response from Summer.

So... I know you've been patient with me and I'm not the easiest person to get along with. But I love you and I'm ready for the next step. Please take this in the spirit of which it is intended:

You up?

Too bad Barry hadn't been paying attention to the phone issues this morning.

Wacky phone day!

[designateddadfriend]

[from here]

"Wow. You are not my mom, so you don't get to drag me by my ear anywhere. I don't care what kind of badge you carry. Also, if I'm blowing something up, it's for a damned good reason."

Wacky Phone Day!

[thedadalorian]

"..." You know what? Din was just starting to think everyone had gone crazy here. "I don't want to assume anything, but I think you might want to address some things about your relationship with birds. Just based of that message."

[grenadesandohana]

I don't follow-up on booty call requests from random people since that thing in Singapore, so that's a hard pass on both railings and delicate lovemaking, thanks.

[bookbeltof_love]

Soooooooo...

Like, she and Prompto had talked and since Iggy was both a friend and her apparent brother-in-law and sure he was off working and probably burying himself in the minutiae of all the things Noctis needed done and had no idea how to do...

But. Still.

You okay????????????????

[bookbeltof_love]

Igs whens your next office hours????????????????

And, sure, Nina could've elaborated on why but, like, curiosity was a powerful tool.

[somethingwithturquoise]

Don't mind Summer! Just oh-so-subtly shooting off a perfectly innocent text for no reason at all, doo-doo-doo!

Hey, I need you to do me a favor and text something to your boyfriend real quick.

[somethingwithturquoise]

You know it was shaping up to be a good Wednesday when Summer was lighting up Ignis' phone with a text.

prompto's here. y arent u here too bro? Ur missing some really good stuff rn, just saying!

[deathsmajesty]

Late Wednesday evening (Tuesday wouldn't have worked, obviously, but the day after was clearly fine), Liliana decided that she was in the mood to be very rude with a side of uncouth. Which was not a particularly surprising decision, no. Politeness was generally only a sometimes Liliana food anyway.

And so Ignis' phone was getting a call. "I know I'm running the risk of getting my number blocked," she said when the line engaged, "but this is my first time calling someone so I'm hoping you'll be gentle."

A Message, Received Sometime Sunday Night

[deathsmajesty]

"Hello, my darling. So I was reading this book of worldwide poetry you left me - what a delightful way to learn more about this plane and you're exceedingly clever to have thought of it - when I stumbled upon this one and I just needed to share it with you."

The sound of movement through water, the clink of glass upon granite; Liliana was in her bathtub again, enjoying a bottle of wine, probably something light and sweet if Ignis were to guess (and guess correctly). The turn of a page, a soft hum as Liliana looked for what she wanted.

"Hunger, by Tejiro
There’s a scent in the air
Cinnamon, allspice and honey…
Or is that… molasses?
You’d think by now I could
easily identify that particular aroma…

I’ve tasted that aphrodisiac
so many times before
You, in my lungs
imprinted on my soul

I’ve inhaled and tasted
you ‘til I was dizzy
and wasted no opportunity
because the need of you
has taken me over
I have felt it many times
the need for more…

I have licked
and sucked
and bitten my way
from earlobe to
clavicle
Pectoralis major
and aureole
sternum
to obliques
and iliac crest…
Rectus abdominus
Transverse
to umbilicus
Skin smooth as satin,
meets silk covered steel
You have done the same
from jaw to aereole
Until I your touch
was all that was real

I know that scent
I feel that growl
in my heart and in yours
It’s a need never sated
food for our hearts

A hunger of our souls"

More movement through water as the book was closed and the glass lifted for an almost-inaudible sip.

"Enjoy your vacation, darling."

Monday Night, New Zealand Time

[deathsmajesty]

After their nightly talk, where Liliana drew upon every Silverquill class on grandiloquence and every poetic and descriptive bone in her body to describe for him the pictures he'd shared with her, their conversation slowly meandered about, lazy and relaxed, just the enjoyment of one another company, even if it were only verbal at the moment.

Before hanging up, Ignis to head to bed, Liliana to the spa, she very prettily asked him for the indulgence of a few more seconds, and, when granted, proceeded to read him another poem, Arrival, by William Carlos Williams.

"And yet one arrives somehow,
finds himself loosening the hooks of
her dress
in a strange bedroom—
feels the autumn
dropping its silk and linen leaves
about her ankles.
The tawdry veined body emerges
twisted upon itself
like a winter wind..."

She let the words fade before speaking again, allowed them to sit in his mind and take root. "And on that note, my darling, I'll leave you on. Sleep well, won't you?" Her audible amusement suggested that she both knew hearing her read this poem was not the sleeping aid she might pretend and also that she was quietly delighted by this fact.

Tuesday Night Message

[deathsmajesty]

Regardless of whether or not Ignis and Liliana spoke Tuesday evening, Ignis received a message informing him that he had been given the gift of an audio book - a book of poetry by Mahmoud Darwish. And accompanying that message was a voice text from Liliana as well.

"My darling, there was an excerpt of one of his poems in the book you gave me and it was enough to convince me that you should become better acquainted with his work. Do listen and let me know what you think - though I will understand if you wish to wait until your vacation is over before listening fully. He is a man who knows warfare and loss."

While most of the book was dedicated to the prose poem that gave the book its name, there were several shorter poems before it, poems that included phrases like:

'On the train we swapped seats, you wanted the window and I wanted to look at you;'

'The image of love reveals itself there; in a profoundly present absence;'

'They asked "do you love her to death?" I said "speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life";' and

'And you became like coffee, in the deliciousness, and the bitterness, and the addiction'.

And one could see why Ignis might have thought those were the poems that convinced her he needed a copy of the book, but true understanding couldn't come until he got to "Memory of Forgetfulness". A series of prose poems about a man who lived under siege, his hometown the focus of brutal warfare, and how he coped by turning to the little rituals of his life, particularly that of brewing coffee, to keep himself together through it all - the violence and the fear and the isolation and the death.

It started with the words:
Coffee should not be drunk in a hurry. It is the sister of time, and should be sipped slowly, slowly. Coffee is the sound of taste, a sound for the aroma. It is a meditation and a plunge into memories and the soul.

Coffee dripped through the poem, transcending the brew itself and becoming a weapon that Darwish used to fight back against the bombs and the bullets, a way to keep himself whole and true to himself as the warfare tried to unmake him, physically, mentally, and emotionally:

They can aim sea, sky, and earth at me, but they cannot root the aroma of coffee out of me. I shall make my coffee now. I will drink the coffee now. Right now, I will be sated with the aroma of coffee, that I may at least distinguish myself from a sheep and live one more day, or die, with the aroma of coffee all around me.

He explored an ordinary task like making coffee and showed how it was art; the art of combining different ingredients to create something new:

Gently place one spoonful of the ground coffee, electrified with the aroma of cardamom, on the rippling surface of the hot water, then stir slowly, first clockwise, then up and down. Add the second spoonful and stir up and down, then counterclockwise. Now add the third. Between spoonfuls, take the pot away from the fire and bring it back. For the final touch, dip the spoon in the melting powder, fill and raise it a little over the pot, then let it drop back. Repeat this several times until the water boils again and a small mass of blond coffee remains on the surface, rippling and ready to sink. Don't let it sink. Turn off the heat, and pay no heed to the rockets. Take the coffee to the narrow corridor and pour it lovingly and with a sure hand into a little white cup: dark-colored cups spoil the freedom of the coffee. Observe the paths of the steam and the tent of rising aroma.

One section of the overall poem, written on August 6th, held his anger

I measure the period between two shells. One second. One second: shorter than the time between breathing in and breathing out, between two heartbeats. One second is not long enough for me to stand before the stove by the glass facade that overlooks the sea. One second is not long enough to open the water bottle or pour the water into the coffee pot. One second is not long enough to light a match. But one second is long enough for me to burn.

and his yearning for normalcy

I want the aroma of coffee. I need five minutes. I want a five-minute truce for the sake of coffee. I have no personal wish other than to make a cup of coffee. With this madness I define my task and my aim. All my senses are on their mark, ready at the call to propel my thirst in the direction of the one and only goal: coffee.

and just his love for coffee, the dish that nourishes his soul.

Because coffee, the first cup of coffee, is the mirror of the hand. And the hand that makes the coffee reveals the person that stirs it. Therefore, coffee is the public reading of the open book of the soul. And it is the enchantress that reveals whatever secrets the day will bring.

[deathsmajesty]

Whether or not Liliana knew today's date and its significance in their lives was up for debate. She was not a woman much beheld to calendars or concerned overmuch with dates, because why would she be? That would suggest that there were things outside of her own whims that defined her schedule.

So perhaps it simply was coincidence that had her ghosting into his apartment at a time when she expected him to be at the gym (and that she was only seeing because she was teaching another class this morning) and leaving a wrapped gift tucked against his pillows, placed with great care to ensure that it wouldn't otherwise impede him. It was possible that if Ignis were to come home and fling himself across his bed like a weeping fairy tale princess, he might run afoul of it, but apart from that one potential mishap, Liliana was fairly confident she had left it somewhere he would discover it, but without it interfering with his routine.

Still, she wasn't inclined to leave things to chance overmuch, so she sacrificed some element of surprise to also leave a message on his phone as she slipped away again, apartment locked neatly behind her.

"In the last place you think of me and it's called kaapi, from the plane of Kaladesh."

When Ignis did discover it and removed the lid, he'd find a cloth bag inside full of beans that smelled like rich and woody and were redolent with an unfamiliar spice.

[deathsmajesty]

Liliana's constitution score was robust, perhaps even surprisingly so if you didn't realize how important that was for a mage, but even she couldn't keep up with an unembodied spirit haunting a set of armor all day.

So during one of her breaks from dancing, she was paused the current song to leave a message.

"Feeling suitably industrious, my darling? Because I'm spending the day dancing, which I don't think was what you meant when you said I had to go to work today," she teased.

You chose this, Ignis. Just saying.

[deathsmajesty]

My darling, you may wish to avoid being in the same room as my steward as there are apparently sprigs of very pushy mistletoe floating about. I'm currently trapped in the store with Stark and I wouldn't wish you to suffer a similar fate.

Her steward was, of course, infinitely preferable, but still, if such a fate could be avoided at all.

I've set him to to tidying some of the unused rooms in preparation for the contractor, but thought you should be informed also.

[deathsmajesty]

Considering it was the last week of the year, Liliana had decided to go into the store and take a final inventory. It wasn't something she could do on her usual days, as it involved spending a great deal of time in the stockroom rather than out front, so she went in a day early to get it done. Ugh, Ignis, you were a terrible influence.

Just for that, she'd decided to call him. Let him entertain her while she worked. Besides, she had a question to ask; she'd meant to bring it up yesterday, but she'd gotten quite distracted by all of the lounging, idleness, and other sundry activities they'd indulged in on their holiday extension.

Well, she'd pester him about it now instead. That would teach him to model productivity at her!

Ring ring!

[deathsmajesty]

Another day of boring inventory, another phone call to the paramour, asking him questions he (probably?) rather not answer.

But this was what happened when Liliana was allowed to get bored.

And who knew! Perhaps it would be fine!

Ring ring!

[deathsmajesty]

At some point in the day, Liliana found Ignis, curling around him and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "My darling, you know Wednesday is your birthday, yes? Let's have a party, hmmm? To celebrate."

[deathsmajesty]

Towards the end of his shift, Ignis got a call from an unexpected number: the phone Liliana's steward had been given in case he needed to reach Liliana when she was off-plane, or Ignis when he was out of the house.

"Good afternoon, might I trouble Sir to stop by the grocer and purchase more eggs, milk, and flour?"

Totally normal request if one ignored both the fact that Ignis had never been asked by the steward to go grocery shopping and that Ignis had picked up some staples quite recently and certainly hadn't gone through them so quickly as to require more.

A delivery

[deathsmajesty]

Arriving at some point in the afternoon a particular bouquet is delivered to the mansion or the apartment, wherever they are currently. The bottom of the bouquet is covered in fabric and beneath it, Ignis can feel root clusters, in case he wishes to transplant the individual flowers into pots and grow them.

There is a card, which the delivery person would read, unless Ignis prefers to wait to have Liliana read it when she returns from work:

You should not be tokenless.

A Delivery

[deathsmajesty]

At 10am sharp, exactly when Liliana's class was scheduled to end, a delivery was made:

A single slice of strawberry-rhubarb pie.

[deathsmajesty]

At some point between the end of his 'lunch break' and the end of his shift, a voice text would arrive on his phone. And, in the voice of a woman well-satisfied but still (always?) hungry for more, a poem, Where It Begins, by Erica Jong, is recited

"The corruption begins with the mouth,
the tongue, the wanting.
The first poem in the world
is I want to eat.

.

Look, just because he was no longer a far away from her in New Zealand didn't mean he shouldn't still randomly get surprise readings of (in)appropriate poetry from time to time.

[deathsmajesty]

After Liliana's Cats class ended, a text was sent to Ignis' phone.

I have business to attend to on Innistrad. I do not require company.

It was not a voice text, but a regular one read out in the phone's mechanical voice.

[deathsmajesty]

My darling, it is imperative you call me back as quickly as you can. The Dean is insisting I cook a dinner with a can of green beans and something called an EZ Bake Oven and your help is desperately required.

[deathsmajesty]

About an hour before Liliana's class was scheduled to begin, she found him in the house and wrapped her arms about his waist. "I'm dashing off elseplane to do some very important shopping," she informed him brightly. "I had intended to leave you here so that it would be as much a surprise to you as everyone else, but considering earlier in the week, I thought that being summarily told to remain here might sit poorly with you and I'd...rather not do that."

Look at us. We're learning, we're loving, we're thriving.

"So, you can either accompany me, though with the understanding that I will answer no questions," she continued, wagging her finger at him playfully, "or you can meet me at the doors of the school at quarter to ten, which is when and where my return portal is scheduled to leave me."