lunae calamitas mods (
promittere) wrote in
hugtopia_logs2020-03-05 04:59 pm
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♥ Who: Ignis & you!
♥ Where: The residential areas, Ainea’s temple, and various other places in the city!
♥ When: March
♥ What: Ignis keeps himself busy. That’s what he’s good at, especially in the face of friends and family disappearing or being ill.
♥ Rating: G, PG? There shouldn’t be anything too bad, will update if necessary!
homemade target practice; (residential area)
[The target isn’t much to look at, at first. It’s what seems to be a couch pillow, propped up against the wall of the house that Ignis has been calling home with Regis and Cor. It’s positioned as far away from the windows as Ignis could get it, and that’s going to be good enough for now. Maybe, some day, he’ll get a proper target, but for now he’s making due.
(He’ll have to apologize to Regis, when he wakes up, for destroying the pillow. Definitely when, and not if.)
There’s a lance - a peculiar looking lance, that seems to have an engine, for some reason? - propped against the wall, and Ignis holds a pair of rather elaborate daggers. The man raises and lowers them for a moment, as if testing their weight and balance, before tossing one into the air.
...And kicking it.
It changes course, piercing the cushion with a dull noise. Ignis approaches the slain softness, reaching out with curious fingers to see where it landed.]
Could be better…
[And with that, he pulls the dagger free.]
taking care of worry warts; (ainea’s temple)
[Ignis is concerned for Regis - of course he is. The man has gone to sleep, and from what he’s gleaned from others, he’s...changing. And nobody has any idea when - or if - he’ll wake up. It’s enough to cause panic, but…
Ignis is nothing if not practical. He has the time to worry here, but he doesn’t want to let himself get consumed by it. Things aren’t helped by the disappearance of Lunafreya, either, so he can’t blame people for being afraid.
(He can’t blame himself for being afraid.)
Still, fear and worry are no reason not to take care of yourself. He slips in holding a thermos, and he approaches with enough noise to mark his arrival.]
I brought soup. You should eat.
[And no, he won’t take “no” or “I’m not hungry” for an answer.]
city rumbling; (various!)
[The earthquakes are concerning. The fact the locals are excited about the earthquakes is, somehow, more concerning. A sign? Any sign or warning like this isn’t good, and Ignis isn’t particularly keen to live through any sort of natural disaster. It was bad enough when it was Titan shaking the earth - at least they knew what was happening.
Still, the quakes don’t stop him from getting out into the city. He can be found just about anywhere - in cafes and shops, near the wall. He goes where he pleases, cane in hand as he makes his way through the city.
It’s...nice, here.]
wildcard;
[Want to do something else? Feel free to let me know! You can reach me at
daintily or on Discord at Avery#8156!]
♥ Where: The residential areas, Ainea’s temple, and various other places in the city!
♥ When: March
♥ What: Ignis keeps himself busy. That’s what he’s good at, especially in the face of friends and family disappearing or being ill.
♥ Rating: G, PG? There shouldn’t be anything too bad, will update if necessary!
homemade target practice; (residential area)
[The target isn’t much to look at, at first. It’s what seems to be a couch pillow, propped up against the wall of the house that Ignis has been calling home with Regis and Cor. It’s positioned as far away from the windows as Ignis could get it, and that’s going to be good enough for now. Maybe, some day, he’ll get a proper target, but for now he’s making due.
(He’ll have to apologize to Regis, when he wakes up, for destroying the pillow. Definitely when, and not if.)
There’s a lance - a peculiar looking lance, that seems to have an engine, for some reason? - propped against the wall, and Ignis holds a pair of rather elaborate daggers. The man raises and lowers them for a moment, as if testing their weight and balance, before tossing one into the air.
...And kicking it.
It changes course, piercing the cushion with a dull noise. Ignis approaches the slain softness, reaching out with curious fingers to see where it landed.]
Could be better…
[And with that, he pulls the dagger free.]
taking care of worry warts; (ainea’s temple)
[Ignis is concerned for Regis - of course he is. The man has gone to sleep, and from what he’s gleaned from others, he’s...changing. And nobody has any idea when - or if - he’ll wake up. It’s enough to cause panic, but…
Ignis is nothing if not practical. He has the time to worry here, but he doesn’t want to let himself get consumed by it. Things aren’t helped by the disappearance of Lunafreya, either, so he can’t blame people for being afraid.
(He can’t blame himself for being afraid.)
Still, fear and worry are no reason not to take care of yourself. He slips in holding a thermos, and he approaches with enough noise to mark his arrival.]
I brought soup. You should eat.
[And no, he won’t take “no” or “I’m not hungry” for an answer.]
city rumbling; (various!)
[The earthquakes are concerning. The fact the locals are excited about the earthquakes is, somehow, more concerning. A sign? Any sign or warning like this isn’t good, and Ignis isn’t particularly keen to live through any sort of natural disaster. It was bad enough when it was Titan shaking the earth - at least they knew what was happening.
Still, the quakes don’t stop him from getting out into the city. He can be found just about anywhere - in cafes and shops, near the wall. He goes where he pleases, cane in hand as he makes his way through the city.
It’s...nice, here.]
wildcard;
[Want to do something else? Feel free to let me know! You can reach me at
temple;
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...Thank you.
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You're welcome.
[And he'll just settle himself right next to Ardyn.]
How is he doing?
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[Again, he leave unsaid.]
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...He does seem worried about that, yes. I'm sure it's not going to come to that, but I know such reassurances do little.
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temple~
At least with Ignis he needn't put on any pretenses of being okay.]
Soup? .... What kind?
[If there's vegetables in it Noct will never eat it... which is clearly the concern here, not Cor. Then again Noctis has been sleeping on his dad as often as not for days.
Getting him to wake up enough for food is unlikely.]
I'm not sure he'll wake up long enough to eat...
[Depression naps be like that.]
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[Which is not a kind of soup Noctis would eat.
He points the thermos at Cor, raising an eyebrow.]
I brought it for you.
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Cor has a moment of just staring at Ignis in surprise. Wait... for him?]
Oh... That wasn't nece- [He stops himself, sighing.] Thank you, Ignis.
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You're welcome.
[And he'll just take a seat.]
I hope it's to your taste.
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Ignis sits beside him and Cor reaches out, resting a hand over the advisor's forearm. A brief squeeze, an attempt at reassurance. Then Cor is taking the lid off that thermos, sniffing it curiously.
It smells amazing, of course, and when he takes a sip it's only ever so faintly tinny. An unfortunate side effect of using fabricated ingredients, not unlike using canned tomatoes. The fact that it's as subtle as it is is a testament to Ignis' skill.
Soup is warm, a deep kind of satisfaction enhanced by the slow spread of heat in his belly. He... hadn't realized how hungry he was. He was still recovering, himself, after all.]
Magnificent as always.
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Well.
It's nice.]
I'm pleased to hear that.
[A pause.]
How is His Majesty doing...?
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Cor hums softly, a pleased little sound of contentment as he sips at the soup.]
Nothing has changed, he's... still.
[In a way that made Cor's stomach drop every time he walked into the room.]
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more temple, surprising no one
So, finally:]
...Thanks.
[About as weak as he'd expected, but... he's talking, at least.]
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You're welcome.
[A beat.]
I wanted to make sure you were eating.
[He almost says "doing well", but, no. He can recognize that with these circumstances, that's impossible.]
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[His tone is rueful, but there's underlying gratitude in there too. He might complain about the nagging sometimes, but Ignis has always made it a priority to take care of him, and when he actually needs it, it makes all the difference.
Ignis also keeps a respectable distance at times, but since Luna's disappearance Noctis has decided that this week, in particular, he can handle no barriers. Contact is important, contact is grounding, would be so even if this place wasn't what it is. So when Ignis sits, Noctis shifts over in a way that bumps their shoulders together, and he stays there.]
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[Ignis doesn't protest the touch - knows it's important, even. He wishes, not for the first time since coming here, that he was...Less reserved. Less like himself, he supposes. He wishes touch came as easily to him as it came to Prompto and Gladio. He's not opposed to touching, certainly not, but initiating contact...
It feels so improper, in a way, but he leans into Noctis. They both need this, he thinks.]
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It's absurd, of course- even without actually doing much, he and Luna had often been in contact, idle handholds, brushing touches. Like they were trying to remind each other that they were there, real, finally together again. If that wasn't enough for the gods to keep her here, he doesn't know what would be. That sort of thing couldn't be forced, not on people who grew up like they did.
Gods, though. He's so sick of... protocol. The crown he'd never even worn isn't meant to be a barrier between him and ones he cares about. Luna with her devotion to what he's meant to be one day, or Ignis and his careful professionalism... it's much easier to see in retrospect, and it feels pointless. Even if he were a king or the Chosen here - which he isn't - it shouldn't matter with them.
Ignis doesn't pull away, though, and Noctis accepts that small mercy. He fiddles with the thermos lid, not opening it just yet; he's not hungry, but it wouldn't do to let himself starve waiting for his father to wake.]
I miss you.
[...ah. He hadn't actually meant to say it out loud, and there's a tension in his shoulders now where he rests against the other man.]
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This...feels like his fault, somehow. He feels so overwhelmingly guilty. He had been trying so, so hard to give Noctis space, to find a life without relying on his prince, his king, his friend, that... He abandoned him. He had thought he was doing the right thing. He had thought this would be what was better for them. Noctis would have Luna and Prompto and his friends, his lover, and Ignis...could carve a new identity for himself.
But it wasn't right. For the first time in a long, long time he miscalculated.
He bows his head, hands curling. He doesn't know what to do with himself, but he wants to reach out, smooth out all of Noct's hurts, until the man can smile again.]
I'm sorry.
[It feels like the least he can say, but those are the only words that come out. He's not familiar with the feeling of floundering for words. He's used to knowing what to say, what to do, but Noctis was always an exception to everything he was. When it came to Noctis, he could be irrational. He acted on instinct.
He decides to follow his instinct now, hand reaching over until he bumps against Noctis'. He reaches out, curling his pinky finger around his, and bows his head.]
I thought...you would have liked the space.
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target practice
Standing well clear of the man and the "target" until after the impressive kick is delivered and the dagger is safely embedded, Prompto watches.]
I dunno. Looked pretty good to me.
[It hit the thing it was supposed to hit, right?]
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I was hoping it would be more centered.
[He flips the dagger in his hand, turning his head towards Prompto.]
Though I suppose not all of us can be sharpshooters.
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[..]
Well, you could... [That'd be real useless with a gun, though.]
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I'm sure you could do something nearly as flashy.
[He tilts his head.]
Though kicking a firearm seems unreasonably dangerous.
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[And that's to get something into his hands rather than out of. Unfortunately, it also means getting right up into Bad Guy personal space.]
If I'm launching my gun at something, it's because it's no longer useful as a gun. And that's about as effective as throwing a rock.
Daggers are way better for that.