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You knew this was coming

[noodledream]

He hates you.

[newrecipe]

It was offensive, really, to think that anyone could prefer this over actual food. He lofts his own cup in one hand, eyeing it dubiously. It's not as though he hasn't eaten them himself plenty of times, but it always seemed to him the sort of thing you turned to if you had no other option. Gladio certainly did not lack for those.

He sighs, setting the cup down beside the campstove to let the water do its work, reaching for his mug as he casts Gladio the most doubtful look he can muster.

"I simply don't understand your fascination with them. I was ready and willing, as ever, to prepare a real dinner."

No he doesn't.

[noodledream]

"Hey, now." Gladio sounds mildly offended as he glances over his shoulder from where he crouches over a tent stake, securing it into the ground of the campsite. His fingers casually flip the hammer in the air, end over end, before catching the handle again with a careless ease.

"This counts as a real dinner. Besides, you've been driving nonstop since dawn. I figured you'd enjoy the break. It won't kill you to sit down and relax for the span of an evening, you know."

[somnolentus]

[ ignis has been nagging him about putting his jacket on all day. ... and noctis has been ignoring him resolutely, because he's Enough Of An Adult to decide when he should put on his own jacket, dammit. so despite the fact that it's been drizzling nonstop, despite the fact that he's shivering, despite the fact that he doesn't even have a good or sensible reason for not putting his jacket on (except that ignis told him to), he sticks resolutely to his t-shirt and short sleeves.

they're lucky that the drizzle tapers off by the time they make camp, so that they're able to sit comfortably around the campfire after dinner. ... but now noctis' throat is scratchy, his nose is stuffy, and his head is throbbing in a way that warns of an oncoming cold. great. just great.

and when he finally sneezes, he shoots ignis a Look. ]

... I don't want to hear it. [ kings don't have to listen to i told you so!!! ]

[newrecipe]

[Fortunately, Ignis doesn't even have to utter the words for Noctis to understand his meaning. He levels a grim and knowing look at his royal charge, eyes full of concern rather than smugness.]

I said nothing.

[Except for the countless times he'd told Noctis to put on a jacket throughout the course of the day, but he's unfortunately used to his concerns going unheeded.]

Something hot to eat, perhaps?

[He told you so. He told you so.]

[somnolentus]

[ he would like to say!! that he doesn't need soup!! because he isn't sick!! because he didn't need his jacket!! because he is an adult capable of making his own wardrobe decisions!! ... but ignis makes damn good soups and stews (and just about everything else), and this gross icky feeling is already begging for something warm and comforting to eat.

he is Weak. ]

... is it gonna have vegetables?

[glaiving]

[newrecipe]

[Ignis was always grateful that the kitchen staff never seemed to mind his making use of their space-- in fact, many of them welcomed it, often eager for an opportunity to taste test whatever it was he managed to pull together. There was nothing experimental about his endeavors today; rather, he was enjoying the rare opportunity of having a free afternoon at the palace, hours ahead of him without strategy meetings or political briefings. Given the active nature of his royal charge, his hours outside of meetings and were often filled with little room for error, but Noct had decided to take the afternoon to himself to fish, which left Ignis with time for himself.

For years, now, most of his baking exploits had to do with the recreation of a particular mystery dessert, but with time on his side today, he's opted to be a bit more ambitious-- an opportunity to make sure he still has the knack for other pastries, having failed to achieve absolute success with what had become his pet project. Several finished works have already been laid out, tarts and macaroons and eclairs, and while some of them would be going home with him to share with Noctis when he popped in to ensure he ate a proper dinner, the rest would likely be left for the kitchen staff.

He's narrowly focused, as he often is while working in any kitchen-- so absorbed in his efforts that he's unlikely to notice, immediately, if someone were to walk in.]

[glaiving]

[Several of the Glaives had been called back to the palace to beef up security -- why, they hadn't said, but it's not like Nyx is opposed to the reassignment. Whatever it means can't be anything good, but so far things have been peaceful and that's all he can really ask. Another shift comes to a close, and Nyx swings by the kitchen with the intention of convincing the staff to feed him.]

--Oh. [He hadn't realised someone other than the actual kitchen staff might be in here. The scent of baked goods drifting into the hall should've tipped him off, but all it served to do was speed his feet up. He drags his eyes away from the selection of treats and lands on Ignis.] Sorry, I'll stay out of your way.

SPOILERS GALOOOOOREE also this got kind of sad.

[draganea]

[It had been close a year since Noctis disappeared and the boys returned with the news. Honestly, she couldn't really believe it at the time, but there was no time to dwell on it. Darkness fell upon Eos and with it the daemons grew stronger. With the rest of surviving Imperials, she had helped rescue the survivors and the eventual exodus to Lestallum, the power plan being the main source of power and light to keep the daemons at bay. When not helping trapped people, she was also out helping eradicate the daemons, though it seemed sometimes pointless with how many just filled their place.

It was after bringing in a new load of refugees and dealing with daemons that she finds herself walking through Lestallum. It had been a while since she had last really visited the place, usually shoving off after refueling and replenishing supplies. But things have slowed—not many survivors left out there now. The city is packed with people and more trash piling up on the wayside. The place hadn't always been the cleanest place, and the situation has only made it worse. Can't be helped, really.

Passing by the hundreds of unfamiliar faces, she briefly wonders about the ones she does know. If she had to bet, one is trying to help that mechanic in Hammerhead, the second is probably out helping with daemon affairs with his sister, and the third...

It's pure coincidence that she managed to walk toward where various food stations had been set up. The sudden influx of people has been a strain on resources, so it's something of a miracle they're holding up as well as they are. She thinks she may have Biggs and Wedge help find and bring in more supplies—the place is probably about due for some.

With that in mind, she heads further in. Might as well bring some food back for the boys and get something for herself. And she may keep an idle eye out for the one other face she knows, but she's been through here without saying anything before. No real reason to change it so far.

But the place is crowded, so whether she intends it or not, she might just accidentally be jostled and bump into him instead. Literally.]

Hey, watch it!

[Not to Ignis, but you know, could easily be mistaken.]

Oh, we are off to a great start. ❤

[newrecipe]

[Helping to cull the daemon population was, unfortunately, out of the question for him these days. It was beyond frustrating, to feel as limited as he now did, to feel near useless as his closest friend had been lost to him, the others scattered while darkness covered their world. He did his part, where he could: gathered and passed on information from the relative safety of Lestallum, all while steadily working to relearn how to live his own life.

It felt selfish, at times, for so much of his time and energy to go into retooling himself into what he felt was a mere shadow of the man he once was. He was far from the only person who was suffering, especially now-- but to his credit, he never complained. Not to anyone, not out loud.

Cooking, at least, was something that he was able to find solace in. He kept dishes simple for the time being, but he was slowly learning to handle some aspects of it by touch-- possible, so long as he was in his own kitchen with everything in its place, though it was still more of a struggle than not. Still, he was insistent on reclaiming this one thing for himself. He was still a keen strategist even without his sight, but that was hardly a hobby.

It was this particular pursuit that brought him to the marketplace, as busy as ever despite the fact that permanent night had fallen. He had gotten rather used to navigating the winding, uneven streets of Lestallum with his cane, but even so, they were often crowded enough that someone managed to stumble inside its radius all the same.

He swallows down the urge to sigh, summoning up patience instead.]

My apologies-- an accident, I assure you.

[Strictly speaking, he couldn't watch anything. But-- wasn't that voice terribly familiar? It had been some time, but...]

Lady Aranea?

[draganea]

[Hearing the voice coming from the side she had been pushed into, she sighed.]

No, not you— [But then the voice registers. Even if it had been a while, it's hard not to remember Ignis's distinctive voice. And it's not even the accent—she's used to that from Biggs. Just that sharp, proper tone. Suspicions are confirmed when she better sees Ignis's face. Or at least, the scars behind the shaded glasses.

It takes her a second longer before she straightens, her initial surprise fading.]

No need for the formalities. Just call me Aranea.

[Hearing him of all people calling her "Lady" seemed...weird. Again, her subordinates would call her that, but that was both out of her position as their commanding officer as well as just them being. Well, them.

Also. This is kind of awkward now that she realizes who she hit.]

...Ignis, right? Sorry. It was me who hit you, not the other way around. [She should at least clear that up at least.]

SPOILERS HO! also i haven't settled on icons yet so you get king of cup noodles. sorry not sorry.

[thatgoodnight]

[It's been two days since Noctis awoke to the bitterest of news and the weight of the world clutched in his hand. Two days and a lifetime since things felt as though the made any sense. But even when the world doesn't make sense, it still goes on, and Noctis knows - he knows - he must pull himself together, push aside the lingering aches and pains from a hard fought battle and plan for what lies ahead. But he can't yet, and as today is the first day he's felt strong and steady enough to venture out of his borrowed rooms, late morning finds him meandering out to one of the nearby terraces.

He had intended to sit on the bench there (it was amazing how much effort climbing a flight of stairs takes even after resting) and just... listen to the waters but the bench, it seems, is already occupied - as Noctis discovers when he lifts his eyes from bricks beneath his feet. He freezes when he realizes it's Ignis, torn between turning around and taking a seat beside him anyway.

Outside of a few scattered inquiries, they haven't really spoken - well, Noctis hasn't really spoken to anyone since waking up outside of unavoidable responses to questions about his physical health. But with Ignis in particular, he doesn't know what to say.

So he just stands there a few paces away, hovering like an idiot unable to tear his eyes away from Ignis' new dark glasses and the freshly scabbed wounds beneath. He doen't know which will be worse: Ignis telling him off for the un-princely behavior of gawking or Ignis not noticing him there at all...]

it sets the perfect tone for this thread don't you worry

[newrecipe]

[A lecture never comes.

Truth be told, Ignis hasn't felt much like talking since the incident, not to anyone. It's not often that the advisor finds himself at a loss for words, but his current state had caused him to withdraw somewhat. Perhaps if he did his best not to talk about it, it would simply go away. The wounds would heal, his sight would return, and they would continue onward.

Of course, there was a great deal more on his mind than his own injury. The state of the city of Altissia, the devastating loss of Lady Luna, and the chancellor's treacherous turn that he'd known would come sooner rather than later. He simply hadn't realized just how soon.

Though he cannot see Noctis, he can certainly hear him, and given how many years they've spent together, he's not terribly difficult for Ignis to identify. He's long known the sound of the prince's footfalls.]

There's room enough on this bench for two, I assure you, Your Highness.

i hope someday there is an item you can equip that makes the glaives into utensils though

[thatgoodnight]

[Ignis' voice isn't surprising but Noct starts a little all the same. However, after a moment of hesitation and a glance around as if maybe there is some other Highness Ignis might be addressing, he takes two more steps and settles besides Ignis.]

Didn't expect anyone to be out here.

[Once he might have leaned his shoulder against Ignis, wordlessly seeking the comfort of touch, but he resists the urge now. Ignis has enough on his plate without Noctis demanding still more. Instead, he slouches indecorously, leaning his elbows against his knees. He can't stare at Ignis' face this way without twisting his neck, and he can pretend for just a moment that everything is normal.]

/cracks knuckles, something something heavy duty AU

[sacredrites]

[ There'd been a time when she'd have trusted her brother more than anyone in this world or the next, but betrayal cut deep. His alignment with Ardyn was devestating, still reeling from the attempt on her life and her weakened state from summoning Leviathan. The almost blinding white of her gown is marred by her blood, though she isn't worried about her own wounds - that wasn't her way.

Tension was heavy in the air from the latest argument between Noctis and Gladio when her former betrothed had stepped up to defend her family before she could even speak. Despite the pain coursing through her, she still loved her brother. She couldn't be angry with him when he was all she had left. There had to have been a good reason for his decision, he must have thought it was to protect her. Of course, this line of thinking may someday cause her demise... But she can't help it. She was born to help others, not hinder.

As everyone storms off, she lets her gaze settle on Ignis before moving to sit across from him - her soft voice thick with unspoken emotion. ]

If you would allow me, I can heal you. [ It was the least she could do, something familiar to ground herself even if it might leave her exhausted. Noctis needed his full group to succeed. ]

oh this is going to hurt ❤

[newrecipe]

[He turns towards the sound of her voice, unintentionally looking just a bit past her, unable to focus. The first few days, he had been able to see a handful of shapes and colors, woefully out of focus, but it had quickly gotten worse over a short period of time.

Now there was nothing but darkness, but Lady Lunafreya's words held the promise of something more. He hesitates, his mouth pulled into a thin line. He knew the Oracle was capable of great things, but this?]

Lady Lunafreya, in your current state...

[He could not, in good conscience, ask for her help when she was so unwell herself.]

I am grateful for the offer, but I would not overtax you.

[markofthesea]

[[This is nothing but the burning desire for these two to have a conversation or several. Here it is. Burning.

Hides face runs away]]

OKAY HERE WE GO

[newrecipe]

[He had learned to navigate Lestallum in darkness. It was a slow process, given not only his new limitations, but the fact that the world itself was changing, sunlight having been stolen away so that the daemons were left to roam freely, claiming the land for themselves. Slowly but surely, he'd found ways to make himself useful, to aid in supporting the refugees even if he wasn't quite ready to go out and face the daemons himself. Day by day, he felt himself grow stronger, come closer to overcoming these new challenges, even as the world changed--

Until one morning, it's changed too much, and he doesn't know where to begin.

The people of Ishgard speak in an accent not entirely unlike his own, though nothing of the city is familiar, and feels more lost than ever before. He hasn't the first idea of how he'd come to find himself here or why, no explanation for his sudden change of scenery. It was as cold as Lestallum was hot, sprawling and busy and full of people who commented that his clothing seemed out of place, though he could not see their own to confirm or deny.

Eventually, someone was kind enough to point him in the direction of the Forgotten Knight, and as much as he loathed accepting aid from anyone, he allowed himself to be lead there, asking to be left alone only once he was seated on a stool at the bar with his cane resting beside him, a mug of mulled wine between his hands.

Of all the things he'd experienced in the last year alone, this was perhaps the strangest.]

I've lost control of my life 8) post-injury cooking misery y/y??

[lineof]

[Usually blessed with near-instant unconsciousness, Noctis had spent the previous night in a sort of half-sleep, fading enough that it kind of counted, but waking groggy enough that it didn't, not where it matters; it takes him a few moments and a few slow blinks to realize that it isn't quite dawn, a few more to mentally scold himself for being so out of sorts. A part of him is advocating strongly for taking advantage of what he knows he can't really afford- his eyes, mostly, burning tired and heavy lidded- but it's his stomach that wins out, propelling him up and out of his sleeping bag.

It dawns on him too late that he's alone, and the now-familiar gnawing, guilty feeling rises in his throat to drown his greeting; prior to the past few weeks he could have counted on one hand the number of times he's been up before even Ignis... But he guesses this is the new normal.

There's a quick glance at the tents behind him, still and silent, lonely, and then a pause... And then Noctis seems to make up his mind, sighing at the low fire from the previous night and the smattering of supplies left messily out around their campsite.

It's just him and the pots now... But rather than moving to pack things up, he prods the fire into warmth and arranges them into an imitation of what should be and isn't. He knows he can't go back to sleep... And that they can't all eat noodles forever.]

y/y!! god I am sorry about me circa these first two weeks of the semester

[newrecipe]

[It's the sound of someone stirring that finally causes Ignis to push himself off his own bedroll. He'd been awake for some time now out of habit, used to waking shortly before the dawn in order to provide for the rest of their band. Today, he hadn't quite made it past the flaps of his tent, knowing that there was nothing for him outside of it-- not until the others were awake and he could use the sounds of their movements and voices to orient himself.

It wasn't ideal, but he was determined to push forward, to remain with them as promised. He would do whatever he had to-- as long as he could avoid having to bow out or be left behind.

The sound of movement has him venturing from his tent earlier than he might have otherwise, however-- even Gladio was rarely up this early, despite his love of morning runs, and the immediate thought that springs to mind is that while the haven was safe from wild beasts, they'd been set upon by someone looking to steal their supplies.

He grits his teeth as he stumbles out of his tent, half-dressed and calling a dagger into one hand on instinct.]

What do you think you're doing?

[A bandit probably wouldn't know he was blind, at least right away. Maybe he could chase them off with skillful rhetoric instead of risking himself by throwing a dagger.]

SPOILERS... and probably some sad

[iwillshieldhim]

The campfire crackled against the quiet of the night, a single beacon of light against the endless darkness all around them, both a familiar memory repeated many times. The wards built into the haven felt like a pulse on his skin, like the beat of a heart. Funny how he never noticed it before, not really, but now it was a source of comfort when he knew the ancient protections was one of the things left in the world that would keep the daemons at bay. The thought made him feel inside for that small flicker of magic that could call his broadsword to him, a constant internal check. Still there. Still there.

It felt like so much of their lives had become about nothing more than daemon hunting since Noct had vanished into the Crystal. At first it had been about trying to save the people, then about finding those they could and making sure they were somewhere safe, then about protecting the people, which meant hunting. So here they were, or at least what was left of them.

Prompto was back at Hammerhead, trying to help Cindy out with a special request. Good. The kid was safer there, anyway. A broad hand came up, rubbing the back of his neck before he glanced over towards the camping stove and the man who stood over it, trying yet against to manage a meal for them both. Prompto wasn't the only one who should be somewhere safer.

"How long?" he called over, curious how far Ignis was towards finishing dinner even as he sniffed slightly to see if he caught the faint scent of burning which would mean he'd be suffering through a burnt meal (he'd still eat it, no matter what).

I'm ready to cry.

[newrecipe]

His efforts were steadily improving with each passing day, and Ignis found himself requesting assistance less frequently as he continued to try and remaster the skill of cooking. He had been reduced to simpler fare, at least for the time being, but asking for help was a great blow to his pride, and doing so more than was absolutely necessary would only serve to hinder his progress-- learning to adapt to his current state was not an option. His blindness was not temporary, and not learning to cope with it and to function as he once had was simply not an option.

It's been some time since he's last burned their food, having learned to rely on his other senses to assist, but there were certainly occasions during which meat wound up tough or overcooked. He was determined to narrow that margin down further yet.

"Five minutes, at most," Ignis calls back, making an effort to keep the weariness in his voice from becoming too evident. "In which case I'd advise you not to wander too far if you don't want it to get cold before you have a chance to eat it."

Hi, bullshitting YET ANOTHER STARTER...

[porcelainandblood]

It has been no particular easy task to gain entry into Insomnia. Perhaps in another time, another age when she was more inclined toward excessively diplomatic relations, she'd put more effort into it. As it stands, she's left it to her escorts. Two men in her company, acting as guardians, one with hair of salt and pepper and age riddling the features of his face. The other younger by perhaps a decade or more.

Their charge, one girl with dark hair and skin as white as alabaster, portraying a frailty in her appearance. Dressed too finely to properly fit in with the environment. It barely takes more than a look around to really establish that she will stand out in one way or another. Tenebrae is far behind her, and with it, the comforts of a home she has not once ventured out of prior to the present.

Insomnia's architecture stretches out far above her and for several long breaths, she can only stare in something that must be akin to awe. The purpose of her visit? She can hardly tell. Something about politics. Maybe it has nothing to do with her. She doubts it, however. She's never permitted anywhere simply for the enjoyment of it all. Her father is up to something.

Dark hair frames her face, curls right over sharp and striking collarbone. Her hands bury in her skirts and the approaching footsteps draw her out of her stupor. She finds her escorts waiting for her and as she exchanges her gaze between them, she straightens her posture. "I would like to look around," she says. It's not a request. It's not her asking for permission, though she ought to, she supposes. What her father doesn't know won't hurt her.

"Young miss..." begins the elder of the two. "It would be dangerous for you to go on your own."

Perne shakes her head. "I can handle mineself. Nothing will happen. I spent the entire journey here with you both. Surely I have earned myself a degree of solitude. If something happens, I will meet you at the lodge. You know the one. Permit me an hour or two at the very least?"

They look uncertain, which is a look she has seen more than once whenever she makes her varied requests. Her escorts have good reason for it. She has a reputation for being troublesome. That is also likely why she is all the way in Insomnia. Here, no one knows her reputation. There won't be secrets about how much of a misfit she is, or how she doesn't fit in with society. At least there won't be any rumours.

Yet.

She remains as she is until they grant her leave and she looks about as pleased as she can manage to, which is hard on a face, which is so practised at being blank. And it doesn't take her long to lift her skirts and make her way toward the one of many sights and sounds the city has to offer—the exterior of the Caelum Via.

I love and appreciate you

[newrecipe]

Rare are the days when Ignis Scientia finds himself to be a free agent— though the crown prince is of an age to need rather less hovering over than he once did, the king has seen fit to offer Ignis other responsibilities well-suited to his talents as time marches on and needs change. He is, as ever, grateful for the opportunity; his contributions to strategy meetings and conferences regarding matters of state at a young age meant that he enjoyed the privilege of rather more respect and responsibility than most.

It suited him well; he preferred to keep himself occupied, to have purpose, and so even when a day like this one happened to come along— a day in which he has found himself woefully lacking in responsibilities and with far more time to fill than he knows what to do with— he was always quick to fill it with some task or another. Today's efforts would be targeted towards a long-running pet project that he had been working on for some years now: the ongoing attempt to recreate a pastry that Prince Noctis had eaten in Tenebrae in his youth, one for which no recipe he had managed to obtain or improve upon seemed able to replicate.

At this point, it's stubbornness that has fueled this particular pursuit, more than anything.

The necessary errands take him to a specialty shop on the Caelum Via that he's frequented countless times in the past; the front window is filled with colorful pastries that represent kingdoms and city-states the world over, a tempting enough sight to draw in passers-by that might not have such specialized interests, and the proprietor has ever and always been a great aid when it's come to discussing and obtaining ingredients that might be more difficult to come by.

"A different sort of honey this time, I think," Ignis considers aloud, his eyes narrowed faintly behind his glasses as he surveys the shelves behind the counter, the proprietor listening carefully. "Native to Tenebrae, if you have it. The northern region, perhaps? I do think we're getting closer, but it's rather difficult when the recipient can't articulate what isn't right. No one even seems to know the name of the thing. Truly, this pastry is one of Tenebrae's best kept secrets, at this point."