oh, baby, you're the only thing in this whole world that's pure and good and right

[unfatalist]

WHO: Ignis and YOU!
WHERE: All over Chroma!
WHEN: Various times in the month of September!
WHAT: Catch-all prompts for the month of September, some open, some closed! See below for links to open top-levels.
WARNINGS: Will be marked in their individual threads!


MUSIC BOXES - OTA! | FREE FOOD - OTA (new CR encouraged)!

Comments

MUSIC BOXES. - open to all

[unfatalist]

[So last month Ignis wound up (pun intended) with a trio of music boxes as quest rewards, and one by one he's been trying them out, experimenting with the songs that they play and slowly but surely discovering that there's more to them than meets the eye. The other two he possesses have slightly less obvious effects, but the one he's listening to today, well. There's no mistaking it, really.

He's sitting on the front steps of the house in Bluo that he shares with...well, it seems like half the town, sometimes, holding his favorite of the three music boxes and winding it carefully again and again. The song it plays is soft and pretty, and makes him think of lords and ladies spinning across a dance floor in the Insomnian capital, merry and free and with nary a care in the world.

But when the music plays, the images that the song paints in the air are not of dance floors, but of more private places in the Citadel in Insomnia:

The little bedroom that was his in his youth, with its child-sized desk and its own attached bath and the great high windows that had seemed to stretch on forever, the window seat and its faded red cushion, and the drawers set into the bench beneath it that were just the right size for his books. The suitcase that had held all of his worldly belongings when he'd moved into the Citadel, unpacked and stowed carefully in the closet, just out of sight. The little stuffed chocobo toy that some thoughtful maid had tucked beneath his coverlet like a surprise for him to find, in the hopes of making it seem a little bit more like a home for the six-year-old boy who'd left his parents to reside in the same building as the king of Lucis and his family, instead.

The throne room of the Citadel, not ravaged by the cruelties of war but intact and pristine, with the throne set high above the split staircase and daylight pouring in the massive windows.

Even Noctis's apartment, complete with a skyline view of Insomnia in the background, though thankfully in Ignis's recollection it's 1000% less of a complete dump than it might've been, because his memories of it are of the few and far between moments after he'd managed to get all of the clutter in order, rather than the disaster zones he'd so often walked into as a part of his duties.

Again and again, he winds up the music box, keeping the song playing, and stares at the images as they play out in front of him, aching for the home he knows is long since gone and yet somehow quietly nostalgic to see it like this, all the same.]

bedroom.

[nascere]

[ This is strikingly familiar, this old bedroom -- Noctis still harbors memories of it, remembering the times when he looked forward to hauling Ignis out of here, of asking him to sleep together with him in his bed when he had been afraid of the dark. They were children then, and Noctis never had liked this room, how it seemed too plain for a child like Ignis, and even as Noctis ventures in here again he can't help but smile at the memory, wandering inside and casually inspecting everything that had once been Ignis' own.

The little stuffed chocobo toy, too, that Noctis had chosen for Ignis on his trip out with Regis, and Regis had summarily gifted it to Ignis, much to Noctis' great delight. He glances around for his companion, calling out softly to him. ]

Iggy?

[unfatalist]

...Noct?

[It's a little unexpected, the way that Ignis steps into view suddenly; he'd been here all along, of course, and he's got the music box in his hands, but until he'd moved it was as though the images had simply painted over him, incorporating him as part of the dreamlike landscape until such time as he'd made a move to distinguish himself from it.

But then there he is, still very slightly favoring his previously uninjured leg, looking around not at the familiar decor of his youth but directly at Noctis — the two of them a little too big for this memory, like wrong-sized dolls in a playhouse.]

Fascinating bit of work, isn't it? The town saw fit to give me a music box that does...this.

[nascere]

Hey --

[ Noctis is swiftly going over to him, aware that Ignis isn't entirely okay yet. He's gripping a gentle hold of his wrist, making sure that he's all right.

He's turning over to the rest of the room, his gaze falling on the furniture -- the chocobo toy, especially, and he smiles faintly. He remembers it, and he squeezes his wrist gently. ]

Remember that toy?

FOODIE. - open to all (new CR encouraged!)

[unfatalist]

[Hey! Are you by the well today? Have you perhaps noticed that something smells holy shit delicious? Well, you're not wrong, because apparently Ignis has decided to set up his Coleman portable camping stove in a nice little unobtrusive part of the town center and play welcoming committee in his own fashion, because if there's one thing he's learned in his time in Chroma, it's that nothing brings people together and makes them feel at home like french fries.

He's got a selection of both regular and purple fries gathered up from potatoes in the garden, and with the help of a little oil and a can-do attitude, he's frying up small paper-wrapped portions of spuds for anybody who happens to walk by and approach him.

Hungry? Why not walk on up and say hello?]

[promissum]

[He might be a little bit hungry, but unfortunately french fries don't have enough blood in them to be a proper replacement for his own dietary needs. But where there's the smell of food there's usually people.

Where there are people, there are sometimes answers.]

You there, are you the town cook?

[unfatalist]

Hardly, though I do find myself catering a surprising number of social functions, regardless.

[Methodically, he's frying off the sliced potatoes and putting them in easy individualized portions on the prep shelf of his cooktop, even as he picks up the thread of discussion.]

Would you care for a sample? They're rather popular, or so I'm told.

[promissum]

Are there that many social functions in a town like this?

[He can eat these things. At the very least he can hope for some HP recovery. When the fries are offered he gives a nod.]

How would you rate them?

[bittybat]

[Holy shit FRENCH FRIES!!!

Of course, Damian followed the smell all the way there; however, he stops rather far back and stares for a few minutes. Almost like he's uncertain? But there's no uncertainty on his face--it's hawkish, studying.

And then he promptly turns around and vanishes again. A strange boy. He's only gone for maybe five minutes or so, and then he comes wandering back with something in his hand.

This time, he walks right up to where Ignis is standing. He doesn't say anything. Lifting his arm, he offers out what he has in his hand: a dark glass bottle of--is that beer? Some kind of lager.]

[unfatalist]

[FRENCH FRIES, INDEED.

The funny thing about the way that Damian studies him from afar is that there's a faint ring of nostalgia to it, for Ignis; Noctis in his moodier teenage years used to do something similar, silently observing while still keeping to himself and maintaining the distance between them. The fact that they slightly resemble each other, soft features and tousled black hair, only adds to the parallel, and that's a large part of the reason why Ignis doesn't try to comment on it. Instead, he merely hides a smile and goes about his work, knowing he's being watched and simply taking it in stride.

But then Damian reappears, with an offering in tow, and — Astrals above, is that booze.]

...Hello to you as well.

[WOULD ALFRED PENNYWORTH APPROVE OF IGNIS SCIENTIA TRYING TO ENFORCE DECORUM AND MANNERS ON THIS INTERACTION? PROBABLY.]

What's this, then?

[bittybat]

It tastes [Oh. He tried it???] like a dark German lager. It was in the boathouse, and I assume it's a reward of some kind.

[Finally, he takes his eyes off the fries and glances up at Ignis. His face doesn't seem to betray any kind of naughtiness or secrecy. It's as if he knows he's thirteen, but he's handing off beer and is aware he tasted it to verify what it is. Completely ordinary?]

It's more fitting to give it to someone of more culinary standards than the rest of the idiots here. [A pause.] Or you can keep it to drink when the kittens are born.

[organfarm]

[ Ignis is probably having a nice, peaceful, productive time cooking up those french fries ... which is interrupted by the sound of booted feet wandering around nearby, and someone sniffing the air.

The footsteps slowly draw closer, and then Jion pops his head out from around the well, face brightening up the instant he sees Ignis' little cooking setup. ]

Hey, are those french fries?!

[ Subtlety and grace are not his strong suits. He jogs over pretty much immediately, inhaling deeply. They smell great, and he's absolutely going to appreciate it. ]

[unfatalist]

[Who needs subtlety and grace? Look at the people Ignis regularly hangs out with, after all.

Luckily, he takes great satisfaction in feeding people, and that's sort of the whole point of being out here anyway, so he doesn't seem particularly ruffled by a newcomer trolling up to enjoy the good smells. It's vaguely reminiscent of Gladio, honestly, in body language and impulse, and for a second he feels a pang of melancholy in the absence of the fourth member of their little quartet.

Well, no matter.]

They certainly are. Having a bit of experience in the practice of feeding growing boys, I've come to learn that fries are an almost universal hit.

[He motions to the sideboard of his little rig, where there are both golden and purple fries cooling.]

Which kind would you prefer?

[organfarm]

[ Growing boys? Maybe he already has kids? He doesn't look that old, but it's also none of his business, so Jion says nothing about that for the moment -- especially since he's distracted by that question. ]

Me?

[ He crouches down in front of the sideboard, admiring the neat little packets. Truth be told, he could probably eat these all, but after a moment of serious consideration, he looks back up. ]

Well, I don't think I've eaten the purple ones before, so maybe those, if you'd recommend them? [ But it's immediately followed by a sheepish laugh as he rubs at the back of his neck. ] But um, I don't really have anything I could offer you in return ...

[whereabout]

[ There are, probably, foods in existence that are more universally beloved.

But they've all been eating fries since practically day one here, so it seems only right to be the official food of the unofficial welcoming committee. ]

Need help with anything?

[ Ignis seems to have it pretty well handled, but hey. ]

[unfatalist]

[Perhaps the only contender is pizza and you can bet that when Ignis figures out how to throw one of those together, it'll be pizza parties from here to Armageddon.]

I'm getting a bit low on my supplies, if you're feeling up to an errand. Otherwise, if you'd care to portion that batch out, there —

[He points his tongs at a stack of cooling purple fries, with some paper wrappers sitting nearby waiting to be folded.]

— it'd give me a little more attention to devote to the fryer.

[whereabout]

How about, I'll portion these out, and then do the errand.

[ It won't take that long, after all. He moves over to start fussing with the wrappers, although he takes an appraising look at what all Ignis has left, first. It'll last him that long, at least. ]

[tropism]

[ hey, french fries. giorno picks the purple ones, though he doesn't take much. ]

Lovely. Thank you for these.

You're Ignis, right? [ it's been a while since they've spoken, perhaps re-introductions are in order. ]

[unfatalist]

Of course, that's what they're there for.

[No sense in making food that's not going to be eaten, after all.]

I am, and you are?

[tropism]

Giorno.

[ a tilt of the head. ] If you don't mind, I'll take a little bit more - I'd love to bring home some to my housemate and another friend.

Mostly I'm here because of this. [ he holds up a piece of paper where he'd carefully copied ignis' drawing on the network. ]

[underworldpianist]

[ Saeki isn't super familiar with French fries, but he is familiar with the Bluohaus residents. At least through Noctis. Ignis seems busy which Saeki can respect because he also always seems busy.

Saeki can't tell what he's making or why he's making it out here, but it smells good? It's fried? ]

Ignis? What are you making today?

[unfatalist]

Fried potatoes, fresh from the garden.

[He'd be a little more chatty to start with, but he's actively in the process of transferring potatoes between the oil and a drying station and dipping more at the moment when Saeki comes up, so that's occupying a given amount of his focus.]

Just a tick — mm, there we are.

[Task finished, he wipes his hands on his apron, satisfied with his results.]

My apologies, you caught me right in the midst of the tricky part. They're potato fries, Leiden and purple varieties. Would you care for a taste?

[awamori]

[Ryuu blinked in surprise when the familiar smell hit his nose on the way to the garden. Is that really french fries? Could it be? He walks faster to the smell to see someone cooking french fries. It's been awhile since he had some, he never thought he would miss french fries so much.]

Um, excuse me? Are you cooking these fries? Would it be alright if I have some?

[unfatalist]

[IT REALLY IS. IT'S REALLY FRENCH FRIES.]

Why, yes, of course. They're fair game for the taking — with the only restriction being that I ask that no one person hogs them all. But there's more than enough to go around, so please, be my guest.

[awamori]

[HE CAN'T BELIEVE THAT THERE ARE ACTUALLY FRENCH FRIES IN FRONT OF HIM.

That sounds like a reasonable request. Ryuu nods as he reaches down to grab a bag.]

Thank you, it's been a while since I've seen them. I didn't know we had potatoes here.

[Maybe he'll be able to find some so he can put them aside to make something for them later. He find the nearest seat to take as he starts enjoying the fries.]

Where did you find them?