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After a morning of pursuing the fine art of reciprocity and knowing full well that he would not be holding class that afternoon, Ignis then set to the task of whipping up something for lunch that would, of course, be blatantly ignored and starting his day on its carefully planned tragectory.
But then...the pie arrived.
Ah-ha, he thought, as that sharp sour sting on his tongue at that first bite soothed itself out with the sweet tang of the strawberries, so it's war.
In a week already full of dizzying thrills, none of them were quite so potent, so stirring as that.
And so all previous plans were summarily scraped, and his mind started to whirl on a new strategy, a new tactic, pacing the kitchen with all thoughts of lunch now blown away by the storm brewing in him head. Stroking his chin, occasionally muttering, pausing with the first thread of an idea, and then shaking his head as he dismissed it as not quite right, not quite there, he could do better.
And then, finally, the moment struck, and he snapped his fingers before him with a triumphant declaration of "That's it!" and set to work on a newrecipeh plan.
It would take some doing, perhaps even some pulling of strings, but he did have time. And, in all its orchestration, there was the faint voice in his head trying to goad him elsewhere. Trying to convince him that all this trouble was really hardly worth it when all he really wanted to do was sweep into Liliana's office right now and test the durability of that chaise once and for all. How easy it would be to just give in....and how rewarding...
But all it took was remembering that sharp burst of rhubarb on his tongue to remember that some of the best rewards were hard-earned.
And so, new plan now set into motion, Ignis informed the steward that, should she ask when she returned home to find him absent, he should tell her that he'd simply stepped out for a bit, with no indication as to where or when he might deign to return. Though if he could kindly point her in the direction of the kitchen, where she would find that slice of pie with just one bite taken out from it, a glass of wine poured for her from a bottle of one of their Argentinian wines, and, neatly folded and compact, his glasses.
One more message left, this one clearly intended to put all those others before it to shame for their lack of detail, and then he caught his portal, and, soon enough, he would be sitting there in the Argentinian sunshine, with a glass of wine of his own, but it was not the delicate nose or subtle tannins of the glass that he ruminated on, or even the sudden clarity of the fresh air tinged with sunlight and sea, but rather the even more intoxicating blend of the triumph of a successful move dancing oh-so-voraciously with almost unbearable longing, traipsing right to the very edge of his tolerance.
Check. Your move, 'Iana...
[[ and absolutely hers, if she is so compelled to take it ]]
But then...the pie arrived.
Ah-ha, he thought, as that sharp sour sting on his tongue at that first bite soothed itself out with the sweet tang of the strawberries, so it's war.
In a week already full of dizzying thrills, none of them were quite so potent, so stirring as that.
And so all previous plans were summarily scraped, and his mind started to whirl on a new strategy, a new tactic, pacing the kitchen with all thoughts of lunch now blown away by the storm brewing in him head. Stroking his chin, occasionally muttering, pausing with the first thread of an idea, and then shaking his head as he dismissed it as not quite right, not quite there, he could do better.
And then, finally, the moment struck, and he snapped his fingers before him with a triumphant declaration of "That's it!" and set to work on a new
It would take some doing, perhaps even some pulling of strings, but he did have time. And, in all its orchestration, there was the faint voice in his head trying to goad him elsewhere. Trying to convince him that all this trouble was really hardly worth it when all he really wanted to do was sweep into Liliana's office right now and test the durability of that chaise once and for all. How easy it would be to just give in....and how rewarding...
But all it took was remembering that sharp burst of rhubarb on his tongue to remember that some of the best rewards were hard-earned.
And so, new plan now set into motion, Ignis informed the steward that, should she ask when she returned home to find him absent, he should tell her that he'd simply stepped out for a bit, with no indication as to where or when he might deign to return. Though if he could kindly point her in the direction of the kitchen, where she would find that slice of pie with just one bite taken out from it, a glass of wine poured for her from a bottle of one of their Argentinian wines, and, neatly folded and compact, his glasses.
One more message left, this one clearly intended to put all those others before it to shame for their lack of detail, and then he caught his portal, and, soon enough, he would be sitting there in the Argentinian sunshine, with a glass of wine of his own, but it was not the delicate nose or subtle tannins of the glass that he ruminated on, or even the sudden clarity of the fresh air tinged with sunlight and sea, but rather the even more intoxicating blend of the triumph of a successful move dancing oh-so-voraciously with almost unbearable longing, traipsing right to the very edge of his tolerance.
Check. Your move, 'Iana...
[[ and absolutely hers, if she is so compelled to take it ]]
