chef_chocobro | Entries tagged with who: jace

After their trudging journey, pouring over the entries in the journal they'd found for mere morsels of information (Ignis, naturally, frustrated that he had to rely so heavily on what was, no doubt, Jace's highly selective readings of the information), they finally made it to Nephalia, the road ending and winding along the base of its sea cliffs. Ignis kept close to Jace, knowing the path was likely narrow and treacherous, and figuring his best bet was to simply follow in the wake of Jace's own self-preservation, as he doubted the other man would take much of Ignis' own safety into consideration as he went along. The incline was steep, but, over the sound of his companion's labored breathing from the effort, he heard, too, in the distance, the creaking masts of ships and the somewhat familiar scents of the port town of Selhoff, the waves lapping against hulls, far off in the distance, but they were getting close.

He also heard someone approaching the way they were going. His companion's pace didn't flag or falter, which made him realize that he clearly hadn't seen the other person yet, and if his calculations were correct...

"Jace," he said, in warning, reaching out for the other man's shoulder to stop him, hopefully before he and this approaching individual collided.

( In which Jace Beleren demonstrates how to make friends and respect boundaries. )

***
Jace spent the rest of their walk deep in thought. The trail ended on the rocky shores just north of the reef near a small fishing outpost. Its floodwalls, as the fisherwoman had indicated, were indeed nearly a foot underwater, and a thick, shining layer of rotting marine slime coated what had once been the dock and its ships.

Boots caked in slime and sand, Jace waded into the shallows and let the waves pass over his feet. As he waited for it to recede, he realized the water was moving parallel with the shore, not away from it.

Something down the beach was indeed changing the normal motion of the waves.

South of the village, the moonlight shone down on a massive ring of jagged structures jutting up from the ocean, clawing at the waves and passing ships.

"The Drownyard," Jace breathed. "This is it! All the cryptoliths point here!"

( In which Jace Beleren demonstrates stealth and rationality )

[[ the journey of Ignis's godlike patience is continued from here and yoinked and yeeted around from "The Drownyard Temple" by Mel Li by myself and the incomparable, incalculable, incredible

deathsmajesty, with all the same warnings for length and NFB, NFI, OOC love addendums! ]]

Markov Manor was torn apart, opened up and laid out to view like a dissected animal pinned to a board. Spires, halls, buttresses, and turrets were ripped from their moorings and left to hang at odd angles around the sundered core of the manor building.

Jace and Ignis stood at the end of a long arched bridge that jutted out from the mountainside. Below them was a sheer drop disappearing into mist. Ahead, what was once the rest of the bridge had become a scattering of steppingstones across the void, leading to the entryway of the manor.

"I guess Sorin probably isn't here," Jace muttered to to his companion.

Suddenly, he saw the place as it must have once been—an awe-inspiring structure of intricately decorated spires and balustrades, perched like a vulture at the edge of a lofty promontory. His breath caught in his chest as he took in the scale of the...not a manor, no, but a castle. A palace.

And the vision was gone, like an illusion. Scowling, he reached out with his mind, looking for some other intelligence that had forced the image into his mind. No one but Ignis was nearby, at least not anyone with thoughts he could detect. And he didn't think that had been a trick from the other man. Their relationship wasn't exactly chummy, but he'd seemed sincere in his desire to find Sorin with Jace. Sincere enough to risk infuriating Liliana. Jace had been on the wrong side of Liliana's wrath more than once and 'unpleasant' was a vast understatement. Still, he reinforced the wards he habitually kept around his mind and surveyed the castle as it actually was.

"Did Sorin do this, you think?" he wondered aloud. Liliana had suggested that he wasn't particularly welcome in his ancestral home. Either way, the sheer scale of the devastation gave him pause. "It's possible I should have taken Liliana's warnings more seriously." This was not the first time he'd thought that this journey and he was pretty sure it wasn't going to be the last.

( Ignis was incredibly tempted... )

[[ a follow-up from here, and beaten, wrangled, modified, and cribbed from "The Mystery of Markov Manor" by James Wyatt, by the truly remarkable

deathsmajesty and me! NFB, NFI, and OOC welcome! And do we really need the LENGTH warning? ]]

Enjoy your rest, Ignis.

Just as he'd quite suspected, there was neither rest nor enjoyment ahead for Ignis after he'd made his exit from dinner last night, especially not with that (and the sound of shattering glass) slipping into every corner of his restless mind, although he did try. It was an insurmountable task, though, perhaps as impossible to achieve as convincing either one of these diametrically opposed forces he'd found himself in the middle of (no, correction: that he'd thrown himself in the middle of), but there were things at play here that Liliana didn't quite know, about why he would be so invested in the preservation of Innistrad beyond just the urge to not let a plane get devoured by some unknown entity, but after last night's conversation, loathe as he was to admit it, it left him wondering if such destruction might actually be preventing him from making a terrible mistake.

But even without all that...

Liliana might be able to stand by to save her own skin, but he could not. The very thought of remaining idle in the face of being able to do something, even something desperate and ill-advised, actually made his skin crawl.

Well, the bright side of being unable to sleep through the night, the hairs-breadth silver lining, was that he could at least get started on breakfast early enough that he might be able to catch Jace before he slipped away on his crazed mission. He'd asked a servant to try and intercept the man when he did emerge, to extend an invitation that if he is still planning to traipse up to Markov Manor, to at least have some food in his stomach before then. And therein, he planned to lay his trap of logic and reasoning.

He just hoped, as he took a long sip from his coffee, that the tumultuous and riotous weather outside would work as a boon for his argument, and wasn't just a portent of things to come ahead.

[[ for the ~brand new bestie~ and NFB for distance, obvi ]]

Ignis was grateful for the convenient excuse of the kitchen once things were settled (for now) with Jace. Not only because the whole unexpected ordeal had put a pause on preparing a prize that he'd been looking forward to substantially, but also because, preparing that prize would now also give him the opportunity to think about something else for a short while. To focus on creating dinner, with a few stray thoughts here and there that were then neatly carved from his attention and thrown into the compost with the rest of his scraps.

But, of course, once the meal was finished, and he and Liliana sat down to enjoy it (with a plate, of course, dutifully sent up to their reluctant guest), those thoughts returned, balanced between the attempt to convince himself that none of this was any of his concern, even without consideration to Liliana's clear distaste for the situation, and that unavoidable tug to want to be able to help. Of course, it all might be moot by the morning, but he, from what he could discern from the man in even this brief meeting and from the pictures presented to him of (he certainly assumed) alternate futures, very much doubted it.

And therein was, indeed, a bit of a problem. When his attentions were turned to the outside world and his surroundings, Ignis' attention and senses were sharp and precise and didn't miss much. But when they turned inward, to his own head, it was all too easy for him to forget what existed outside of him, and so while his mind felt like a veritable cacophony of tumultuous thought and indecision and arguments from every side imaginable, his body exuded that deep, silent pensiveness as it cut into the tender venison and lifted it to his mouth, chewing it almost mindlessly besides for a small moment of acknowledgement to its excellent flavor, how well it was washed down with this particular wine, and now back to this conundrum of some haplessly misplaced plane-destroying creature on the loose in the Multiverse thanks to Liliana's clearly reckless, clearly foolhardy, godsdamned ex....

( A *Minor* Difference of Opinion.... )

[[ continued from here and torturously preplayed with the ever effervescent and erudite

deathsmajesty. NFB and NFI, but OOC to help ease the pain is always welcome! ]]