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Well, it wasn't every day that one woke up with a blue man and a potted plant in his bed, but today was, apparently, that day. Ignis was tempted to text Summer to ask her exactly what had even been in those jello shots, but, at the same time, this was Fandom, and so he suspected that the island was more to blame than any unexpected effects of nefarious alcohol.
This time.
What struck Ignis as particularly interesting about all of this, though, that the plant itself was undeniably a gladiolus, which....well. As for the blue man? That seemed a bit harder to explain, until he actually opened his mouth to speak, and what came out was a voice startlingly like Prompto's, if only Prompto had perhaps been raised a Scientia rather than an Argentum.
It was uncanny, really, and it was sort of hurting poor Ignis's brain, and so he did the only thing he could think to do, he excused himself from the bedroom to make breakfast and asked the blue man, who called himself by the name of Dorian Storm, to join him, and, yes, they would bring the plant.
So while Ignis cooked, the full and blooming gladiolus sat on the table, along with Dorian's feet, as he'd propped his nice winged boots up while leaning back in his chair and strumming an admittedly pleasant and rather calming tune on his blue sunburst lute, the orange and red sunset ombre of his cloak spread out behind him.
And Ignis, trying his best to act like all of this was perfectly normal, simply asked, "And how do you like your eggs, Dorian?"
Dorian just flashed a grin, strummed a little bit of an upward scale, and answered, "Over-easy. Much like myself."
He may have just been imagining it, but Ignis felt pretty certain the gladiolus would have put in a rim shot there if it could.
[[ definitely open, especially for the sad miserable roommate! Although usual work related sp shall apply for a few hours! ]]
This time.
What struck Ignis as particularly interesting about all of this, though, that the plant itself was undeniably a gladiolus, which....well. As for the blue man? That seemed a bit harder to explain, until he actually opened his mouth to speak, and what came out was a voice startlingly like Prompto's, if only Prompto had perhaps been raised a Scientia rather than an Argentum.
It was uncanny, really, and it was sort of hurting poor Ignis's brain, and so he did the only thing he could think to do, he excused himself from the bedroom to make breakfast and asked the blue man, who called himself by the name of Dorian Storm, to join him, and, yes, they would bring the plant.
So while Ignis cooked, the full and blooming gladiolus sat on the table, along with Dorian's feet, as he'd propped his nice winged boots up while leaning back in his chair and strumming an admittedly pleasant and rather calming tune on his blue sunburst lute, the orange and red sunset ombre of his cloak spread out behind him.
And Ignis, trying his best to act like all of this was perfectly normal, simply asked, "And how do you like your eggs, Dorian?"
Dorian just flashed a grin, strummed a little bit of an upward scale, and answered, "Over-easy. Much like myself."
He may have just been imagining it, but Ignis felt pretty certain the gladiolus would have put in a rim shot there if it could.
[[ definitely open, especially for the sad miserable roommate! Although usual work related sp shall apply for a few hours! ]]
