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year 5, quarter 3
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Post by Cloud Strife on Mar 6, 2020 22:34:34 GMT -6
He forgot to count the sunrises.
One day he emerged from the wilderness onto a road. He couldn't see civilization in either direction so he picked one and walked. Other travelers passed him by. They didn't make eye contact. Later on a vehicle dusted him in a layer of fine grit and the person in the passenger's seat glared at him suspiciously before trundling off over the horizon. Cloud paused for a moment of self reflection. Maybe the stress of the situation pulled his expression into a resting scowl, or maybe something about his clothes ran contrary to the local sensibilities, or--
Maybe it's all the swords.
All the swords, six parts to a whole, dangling in a harness on his back. Sunlight glinting off bright steel, flashing like an array of signal mirrors as they swayed with the movement of his walk. Six reasons to avoid the stranger on the road in the dusty fatigues, dirt smeared on pale skin beneath a pair of bright blue eyes.
When the noise of the vehicle's engine faded into the distance all that remained was the whisper of a light breeze and the distant call of a bird he didn't recognize. The road stretched on before him, out to infinity.
He tried to remember what they all talked about on the trek to Junon. If he thought hard enough he could hear laughter he knew he'd never hear again.
-----
How many had that been?
Shit. Forgot to count them again.
When he came upon the place the sun was only just beginning to ease toward the horizon. A ramshackle hut off the road, the path and the clearing around it overgrown with scrubgrass and weeds. It had a foundation of stone blocks and a wooden frame and sunbleached planks warped by time and weather. The front of the building was half caved in, the door laying in the overgrown scrub and the wall planks twisted and splintered, dangling from rusty nails. It reminded him of an old waystation in the foothills of the Nibel range just outside the village. If there was a story behind it his mother never told him. As a kid he used to imagine tall tales of an outlaw's last stand.
No last stands here. Cloud dragged his feet all the way to the door, exhaustion turning his bones to lead. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so hungry, something gnawing at the inside of his stomach. He scanned the hut in a vain hope, but the interior was empty except for broken planks, dirt, weeds, some tattered burlap sacks. Whatever. It would break the wind and offer a roof over his head, and for now, that was enough.
Cloud set his swords in the corner and cleared the floor of broken wood. He picked up the old door and leaned it against the outside of the hut; later, if he had to, he'd break it down for firewood. He snapped a few stray planks off the sunken front wall and built a teepee of wood in front of an open space where the smoke could escape. He held his hand over the peak of the woodpile and the materia in his Mystile glowed green and the fire crackled to life, bathing the ruined hut in a warm glow.
He sat back and watched the flames dance. His mind wandered in the solitude of it all and he couldn't rein it in. He thought of Tifa and the ache in his chest became unbearable.
I'll find her. I'll find everybody. They'll all be fine.
But what if they aren't?
Shut up.
The glow of the fire began to dim. How long had he been sitting there? Cloud stood up to put more wood on the fire, and as the embers spiraled up into the sky he swore he heard the crunch of footsteps on loose gravel and he wasn't just making it up out of desperation for another human presence. He stuck his head out of the gap in the wall, squinting against the glare of a setting sun.
"Perhaps," Ignis offered a response to the young man on the bike who had stopped to check on him, "Considering how long it's taking, though, I can't say I'm confident in his abilities."
He could do nothing but picture the young man's shrug as he took off further into the distance on his motorbike. The young man was far from the first to chide the blind man for his insistence on traveling by foot. Though most, seeing his sight cane, ignored him and moved onward, a few kind individuals had stopped to offer Scientia a ride, or directions at the very least. He had no map aside from the one in his mind; after all, it would be useless to have one for anything other than poor attempts at humor.
Ignis wanted to do this traveling alone, or at the very least, on foot. The only way to perfect living in his new condition was to truly live it, after all. He needed to feel the crunch of the gravel underneath of his boots. He needed to listen to and identify the sounds of all the creatures of both day and night, and everything in-between. He needed to tap his sight cane along the path and figure out a rhythmn. To feel and find the difference between a rock, a stump, an imprint in the dirt. It was as if he'd been reborn, and he had to re-learn the most basic of activities.
It didn't bother him, however. Not as much as it had in the beginning. Ignis still had all of his other skills, mastered after years and years of practice.
Not that he remembered much of that practice, but that was a different problem altogether.
Noct remained elusive in Ignis's travels thus far. No one had heard of the young man before, and the former royal retainer couldn't explain much aside from the name. That name plagued Scientia's mind day and night when he allowed his conscious to drift.
The wind began to whip a little harder as Ignis continued his way down the gravel path. He shuddered, pulling his wool-lined coat closer with his free hand. Against his hip bumped a bag, filled with supplies he'd collected along the way. Not even blindness could save the small creatures from Ignis's patience and practiced dagger throws. He could easily gut a small mammal in his sleep, and he'd managed to trade the occasional food-pest for spices or greenery.
Foraging for berries and other roots was a little trickier, without someone more familiar with the land. And Iggy had no desire to be the first to do a blind taste testing with random berries picked from a bush.
The sun was beginning to set. It was a little difficult to tell, but Ignis could still detect some faint light from his right eye. The slowly fading light warmed his front against the slightly chilly wind, but it did signal an end for the day. Even though he felt comfortable walking through the night -- he lived in constant darkness as it was -- he was not ready to run into a potential daemon. Though he hadn't encountered any yet, Scientia was considering it a lucky break.
After all, despite his stubborn insistence, his feet were aching and his stomach was churning. Traveling alone had its drawbacks.
The wind blew fiercely, drawing with it a familiar scent. Ignis paused on the path, furrowing his brows. Swirling in the air was the smell of fire. Nothing out of control, likely a campfire considering the scent of charred wood. Was there another lonely soul on the road, calling it quits to rest their laurels for the evening? Well, there was only one way to find out. Ignis followed the familiar scent as it tickled some far nostalgia in his foggy memories, pulling a small, but troubled smile to his face. A campfire ... it made him feel relaxed, and welcome.
Hopefully, he wouldn't be running into any trouble. The last thing Ignis wanted was to stumble upon a group of ruffians.
The scent grew stronger as he continued up the gravel path. He was getting closer, and yet, he couldn't hear the distinct sound of crackling wood. Perplexed, the blonde reached down and grabbed a small pebble from the path, tossing it far in front of him. Clink. Hm, there seemed to be something ahead of him. A structure, maybe? A home, or a cabin? He took a few more steps forward, tapping his cane along the side of the road. There seemed to be nothing but long grass there, so what--?
"Hey. Somebody there?"
One lone voice, partially obstructed. From the smell of it, his fire had mostly died down as well. That, or maybe it was being used in a chimney of sorts inside of the building.
Yet, the voice -- it sounded like a young man -- was clearer than it should have been it he was completely enclosed in a home. Well, there was no sense in denying his presence, he couldn't move silently. Ignis took a few more steps forward, his sight cane tapping along until he found something solid; a plank of wood.
"If I say yes," he spoke in the general direction of the voice, "I'm hoping there will be a mutual understanding of peace between us. I'm simply in need of somewhere to hunker down for the evening, if you don't mind sharing."
But its too late, to go back. I can see the darkness, through the cracks. Daylight fading, I curse the breaking. The day is gone.
Post by Cloud Strife on Mar 9, 2020 22:27:23 GMT -6
A solitary vagabond stood in the slowly failing light. There was something unexpectedly refined about the way the man spoke. Cloud didn't recognize the accent, but that was no surprise. It's not like he knew what anyone in this place was supposed to sound like. He guessed, given the way the man carried himself, how his sightline was just off target, that the cane meant the same thing here as it did back home.
Cloud tried to imagine his trek under a veil of permanent darkness. The ghost of a frown crossed his face.
"Don't worry," Cloud said. He waved off the man's concerns, a reflex of a wasted gesture. "I'm too tired to be lookin' for trouble."
The fire popped, a burst of embers rising up through the smoke. The flames licked at a bent nail embedded in one of the burning planks and something in the fire gave off a faint high whine. Glancing back over his shoulder, Cloud considered the stranger's request even though he already knew the answer. The ruined hut was more than large enough to shelter two. Maybe with somebody to talk to, Cloud wouldn't be stuck thinking so much.
Or maybe this would go sideways and turn into the kind of trouble Cloud wasn't looking for. Still wouldn't be stuck thinking so much. What did he have to lose?
"C'mon in and take a seat, then," Cloud said finally, looking back at the man and stepping aside to clear the way into the hut. "There's plenty of... floor."
The hut held in the heat beyond what its appearance would suggest. It wouldn't afford Cloud a comfortable night's rest, but he hadn't been sleeping much anyway, and he'd certainly slept rougher than this. Maybe he'd be able to doze for an hour once he was sure this stranger wasn't going to try and slit his throat. An hour, and then his nerves would wake him, or something else would.
SORRY I WAS REALLY FEELING THIS THREAD APPARENTLY LMAO
"Don't worry. I'm too tired to be lookin' for trouble."
Ignis released the breath he’d held in his chest, relaxing his shoulders as far as they were willing to droop. Not far, but enough to take the strain from his upper back, at least. The voice didn’t sound threatening. If anything, the young man simply sounded just as he’d described himself; too tired. He could sympathize, honestly, if the stranger had been trekking along the same road just as long as Ignis himself had been. Legs and feet aching, knowing they would ache even harder after a night’s rest.
“That would make two of us,” Scientia replied, giving a strained smile in the direction of the stranger. Or, so he hoped. He could feel the heat creeping from the vicinity of the hut now, rolling over him in a tantalizing wave of temporary comfort. It raised to brush his cheek, but as the wind whispered around him once more, it brought with it the familiar, stinging cold. Ignis furrowed deeper into his black coat, lined with wool but not enough to break the frosty breeze.
The fire hissed and whined as it churned through its fuel -- ever hungry for more.
"C'mon in and take a seat, then," Ignis heard the young man turn on his shoe, too rough to be a smooth loafer, perhaps it was a boot, "There's plenty of... floor."
That drew a brief, full-hearted chuckle from Iggy. My, how long had it been since someone had been so casual with him? “Many thanks,” the blind man replied, hiding his smirk behind a gloved hand, “I will happily take a floor around a fire rather than that blistering wind and nothing but an unfriendly bush for shelter.”
Ignis tapped at the ground, feeling out the landscape as he moved forward toward the voice and the crunching footsteps as the young man moved. The terrain was a tad uneven -- mostly overgrown weeds and the occasional stone or broken piece of wood. He did his best to be careful with his footing, after all, he didn’t want to come off helpless to a kind stranger. He didn’t want to come off as helpless at all. The blonde took in a breath as the air got warmer, flooding his remaining senses with smoke and comfort.
Thankfully, fire was quite easy to feel, even through a coat. Ignis mentally mapped out the location of the small blaze, before meandering through what was left of the hut. He tapped along what remained of the walls, feeling where wood gave way to the elements. The occasional board or nail snagged his cane, but not for long. It was all over in a mere minute, but Ignis was satisfied. He’d mapped his escape route, in case things were to somehow become sour.
Gently sitting down his bag of supplies on the ground, he straightened himself up to look as presentable as possible. Ignis couldn’t say for sure how well his clothes had fared thus far -- the white button up was likely at least smudged with dirt, but his black trousers should have hidden any further wear. The black leather straps attached to his pants were still lightly snug at the shoulder, meaning he’d at least not lost those buttons.
“I believe introductions are in order,” Ignis smiled, friendly as he snapped his cane to its smallest size, placing it in the travel pack attached to his thigh. He held out his hand toward the stranger, “Ignis Scientia, at your service, for as much as I may be worth these days.”
But its too late, to go back. I can see the darkness, through the cracks. Daylight fading, I curse the breaking. The day is gone.
Post by Cloud Strife on Mar 15, 2020 19:08:12 GMT -6
He didn't quite realize just how tired he'd grown of the sound of his own voice until there was somebody else around to listen to. Even in silence, questions and second-guessing rattled around inside his skull like an incessant self-deprecating white noise. He couldn't tune it out when all he had was the sound of his boots on the earth, the rustle and clatter of the swords on his back.
Cloud stood with his arms crossed loosely over his chest, watching the newcomer feel out the space of the hut, the staccato tapping of the cane adding a new line of percussion over the background crackle of the fire. His Mako-blue eyes gave the man's clothing and gear a once-over. Road-worn, with a pack of what Cloud guessed were supplies. Imagine that. A traveler who knew what he was doing.
This wasn't the first time Cloud ventured forth into the great unknown with nothing more than a sword on his back and the notion to keep putting one foot in front of the other. One of these days he'd learn to stop tempting fate, but until then he traveled on a mostly empty stomach, an occasional handful of questionable foraged berries, and any river or stream that looked fast-moving enough to drink from.
His gut made a noise that could've passed for a lone Nibel wolf lurking in the dark. He didn't remember the last time he ate. He'd been trying not to think about it.
The newcomer seemed satisfied with his surroundings and moved on to introductions. Ignis Scientia. The name meant nothing to Cloud in that moment; he couldn't tie it to any region that he knew of. Which made sense. He had to stop grasping for familiarity in a land that was in every way foreign.
Cloud reached out and shook Ignis' offered hand, a firm handshake, the leather of his glove creaking with the grip.
"Cloud Strife," he said, and after letting go he reached for another broken board and set it on the fire.
Cloud lacked for just about anything except shelter and warmth then, but the thing that chafed the most was the absence of knowledge. Hunger and thirst meant nothing if he could just get his bearings in the world. If he could get a lead on where his friends might be (because they were here, somewhere, and there was no use thinking otherwise). This Ignis guy, Cloud thought, looked like he should know something.
"You been on the road very long, Ignis?" he asked casually.
The kind stranger held no hesitations in shaking hands with a blind man. Ignis felt the cool, smooth texture of leather against his fingers briefly as he shook hands with the young man; displaying a smile at the firm grasp. Cloud Strife, hm? His soft voice betrayed the strength of his hand, and Ignis couldn’t help but wonder exactly what his new companion looked like. The name Cloud -- soft, far away, endlessly wandering the sky above. But, Strife? Now, that was unfortunate.
Hopefully the young man’s life didn’t live up to such a last name.
The thought left the blind wanderer’s mind as soon as it had come as he listened to the sound of wood smacking flame, new angry licks and crackles as the fire searched for a way to eat away at its new fuel. Ignis took the moment to shrug the heavier coat from his shoulders, kneeling down to gently fold it and tuck it aside. The fire was plenty warm, he would be sweating in the extra layers given enough time. Instead, he stayed on his heels, unbuttoning his travel bag as Cloud broke the silence between them.
"You been on the road very long, Ignis?"
Too long for his own liking, he mused to himself as he nodded and answered calmly, “I believe it’s been a week, at this point. It’s been a little more difficult to track than it used to be.”
Had he the ability to smile and offer a reassuring wink, Iggy would have considered it. However, with his left eye lame, it would have looked like nothing but a strange blink. Instead, he kept the conversation moving as he felt around the contents of his travel pack, “I’m assuming you’ve been on the road quite a bit yourself, Mr. Strife. Your stomach speaks a little louder than your voice.”
Ignis was teasing him, of course. His tone was light and good natured, and he hoped not to offend the kind young man. His fingers found their target, pulling out something wrapped in parchment paper from his rucksack as he continued to kneel near the fire.
He had food to share. Ignis Scientia was resharpening all of his former talents on his journey, and though he knew he could no longer be the cook he once (vaguely) remembered being, he could still try his best. Wrapped inside of the parchment paper was the salted flank meat of a creature that was rabbit-esque -- gamey, but not too tough given the right touch. Cuts of meat were apparently similar across worlds, and it hadn’t taken Ignis long to memorize the feel of the different muscles and fats. Along with the herbs he’d found along the way, and the spices he’d managed to trade for … He had enough to feed the poor young man before him.
“You were kind enough to share your shelter,” Ignis spoke toward the fire as he slowly unwrapped the parchment paper, “I’d like to share what I can, as well.”
But its too late, to go back. I can see the darkness, through the cracks. Daylight fading, I curse the breaking. The day is gone.
Post by Cloud Strife on Apr 10, 2020 13:09:44 GMT -6
Cloud stood back from the fire and crossed his arms loosely. He felt the heat of the growing flames in waves as they swayed and flickered, lighting the interior of the hut from new and shifting angles. His shadow stood gargantuan behind him, watching the scene over his shoulder. A spider hung lazily in a web in the upper corner of the hut where a section of the roof was still intact. Cloud listened to Ignis and considered his answer. A week on the road, the man said. A week seemed a long time and no time at all. Yesterday lasted a week when the month before was a day. Cloud grasped for a mental landmark in his own journey but the days and nights since waking in this foreign place blended together in an abstract blur of unknown territory and silence. A week was a good answer. Maybe he'd have to steal it.
In the back of his mind a voice like Barret's, booming and tactless, wondered how Ignis could tell one day from the next if he was blind, and other familiar voices urged that one to be quiet.
The gnawing in his stomach did not obey the call for quiet and had not gone unnoticed and Ignis' perception gave Cloud pause. He shifted his weight, looking away at a swirl of dust and grit on the hard stone floor. He rubbed the back of his head.
"Uh... Yeah... I guess it has been a little while," he answered.
Cloud watched Ignis rifle through his things, produce a packet of something wrapped in paper. His stomach tightened like a fist as if to remind him of its emptiness and he predicted the coming offer before Ignis gave it voice. Cloud tried to peer further into Ignis' bag of supplies in search of companion packets of food but he was not in a position to see. He looked at the meat as Ignis unwrapped the paper and then he looked at Ignis.
Just take it.
What if he doesn't have much?
Look at him. Of the two of us he's better off.
All I did was share a roof that isn't mine. It's not worth food.
That's for him to decide.
"You sure?" Cloud asked with a trace of hesitation. The base need of his hunger battled quietly with his higher social instincts. "Only if you've got enough to last you until you get where you're going."
From the outside, in the failing light of the setting sun, the ruined hut askew on its foundations and jagged edged with broken planks stood as a weary monument to forgotten things. Its builders long gone and maybe dead. Its purpose abandoned. Left to rot and crumble outside the notice of the travelers on the road before it.
Inside, the warmth of the fire seemed to stretch out past the weathered wooden boards to the boundaries of this alien plane. As if the world itself warmed to Cloud's presence in it with a golden glow and firefly-embers twirling against a darkening sky. With a fellow road-weary traveler who didn't regard Cloud with a reflexive suspicion. He was not of this place but maybe the world would not reject him like a failed transplant and instead usher him onward until he found the people he sought out with singleminded focus.
it's almost dinner time, gotta feed this kid before he withers away
From only their few moments of interaction, Ignis felt he had picked up on bits of Cloud’s personality already. He was a man of few words, his voice quiet and yet heavy. He was kind enough to give shelter to a complete stranger, yet wary enough to hang back in his own space. Not unlike a cat, Ignis thought to himself as he gave the flank meat a quick sniff, finding nothing but salt and the pleasant scent of herbs he’d put in the parchment to help keep the meat fresh. It hadn’t spoiled -- the blonde was relieved he correctly remembered how to treat it without refrigeration.
Cloud admitted to it having been a while since he’d eaten, and if Iggy heard the reaction correctly, the young man rubbed the back of his neck in a possible nervous tick. The movement was as familiar as it was mysterious. Noct did the same thing, though how he remembered that or why, he couldn’t say.
There was hesitation in Strife’s tone, likely betraying the rest of his body, "Only if you've got enough to last you until you get where you're going."
“Luck favors the prepared, Mr. Strife. You don’t need to worry,” Ignis stated confidently, taking a seat close to the fire. He set the parchment wrapped meats aside for a moment, instead digging into his travel pack and pulling out various, smaller bags. Each one was a different spice; either found in the wild, or traded for. He carefully opened one pack at a time, smelling each spice before keeping some out and putting others back. Satisfied with his choices after a few moments, he was ready to begin.
He carefully extracted the first of his spice choices from the bag, piling some in one palm while collecting his meat with the other. Ignis coated each side of the flank carefully, taking his time to feel that each centimeter was dutifully coated. Typically, he would have loved to use more herbs and oils, but with limited supply came limited flavor profiles.
It did not mean, however, that they had to have a limited experience.
“We’ll have to spit roast these I’m afraid,” Ignis mentioned to his companion with a wave. He had a couple of metal stakes in his pack for such a use, but really, he could do so much more if only he had something to use a cooktop. Cooking the meal in a bit of olive oil with fresh herbs … not to mention getting to saute some of the greens he’d found.
Ignis tilted his head in thought. Well, they were in a crumbling building. Perhaps there was a steady, thick plank of wood they could use as a cooking surface? It wouldn’t be preferable, but it would at least give him the option of feeding his friendly companion with a little more extravagance.
The blind man tapped a spice rubbed finger against his knee, “Actually, Mr. Strife, would you happen to see anything around we could use as a cooking surface? A thick plank of wood ought to do the trick, unless you happen to be carrying a skillet by chance.” While he would find it fairly humorous for a starving man to be carrying only a skillet, Ignis still wouldn't be colored surprised if it were true.
But its too late, to go back. I can see the darkness, through the cracks. Daylight fading, I curse the breaking. The day is gone.
Post by Cloud Strife on Apr 21, 2020 22:30:55 GMT -6
Mr. Strife caught in his ear like a wrong note. Cloud tilted his head and regarded Ignis strangely and he tried but could not recall anyone ever addressing him with that level of formality. A habit, maybe, or by voice alone he mistook Cloud for someone who knew what he was doing in life.
He leaned against the back wall of the hut and the old dry wood creaked in a halfhearted protest against his weight and he watched Ignis produce what seemed to him an endless stream of cooking supplies from a pack that must have been larger inside than it looked. Somewhere in there lay a gourmet kitchen. Cloud thought back to the multi-day operations when he was still an enlisted man under Shinra, breaking from a patrol march to dig through his field kit for some processed freeze-dried reconstituted meal packet that tasted of preservatives and plastic no matter how he prepared it.
One night on his journey he had a dream that he was in the mountains with Tifa and Barret. He was in his old Shinra uniform and they had stolen a supply crate of army rations and were running away through knee deep snow from a squadron of floating Buster swords. An avalanche barrelled down the mountainside towards them and he woke up as the wall of snow hit. He understood the depth of his own hunger only when he woke up longing for the chemical taste of lukewarm ration noodles.
He watched Ignis seasoning the meat with the purposefulness of an artisan and Cloud tried to imagine what it might taste like and could not. He wasn't sure he could name more than two spices. Were the spices in this place even the same? What of the meat? He could question everything in relation to the world he knew and had to stop himself before he led his mind in circles.
Then came the formal address again. Wearing the old SOLDIER uniform and being called Mister only made him feel like an impostor. By habit he waved his hand dismissively, the gesture lost to the other man.
"Hey, uh, just Cloud is fine," he said. Then he swept his eyes over the interior of the hut and while the state of the wood suggested it hadn't been pressure-treated, Cloud didn't trust any of the planks as suitable for cooking. He had no skillet, no camp kit of portable pans, all he had was the swords--
Swords, huh.
That'll do, won't it?
Use what you've got.
Cloud shrugged.
"Got a sword we could use. It's pretty big. Gimme a sec--"
He pushed off the wall and squatted in front of the harness and the six blades he'd left in the corner. He drew out the main blade and flicked his wrist to open it into battle mode and assembled it with all but the smaller folding blades. He held it low to avoid clipping the roof of the hut. It was pretty big.
Minding the space, Cloud approached the fire and looked into it. A base of deep red coals glowing and pulsing with the heat. A pair of planks leaning against each other, their middle sections half burned away and barely supporting the weight of themselves. He gave one of them a tap with the edge of the sword and they collapsed into the fire with a puff of embers and ash.
He squatted in front of the fire and laid the sword across it with the sharp edge faced away from Ignis. He propped the hilt up on a stack of detritus gathered from the hut floor so that it lay flat over the coals. He looked it over and thought about it and adjusted the position just so and looked at it again.
The young man’s voice felt burdened and awkward. Perhaps he wasn’t used to such formalities. Then again, for reasons the blonde couldn’t remember, he felt the need to immediately address everyone so formally. His upbringing dictated it, and the thought of immediately calling a complete stranger by his given name alone felt foreign. Then again, sharing a tiny, broken down hut in the middle of nowhere stretched the definition of strangers. Ignis’s mouth curved into a small, forgiving smile as he heard his companion shift his weight from one leg to another, likely looking over their surroundings, “Cloud it is, then.”
A breath of a moment passed while Ignis wiped one hand clean of spices with a rag. With a proper cooking surface, he would be able to complete so much more than just a skewered, potentially tough piece of meat. Hopefully there was something around-- "Got a sword we could use. It's pretty big. Gimme a sec--"
“Pardon?” Iggy felt the stunned surprise slip from his lips before he could catch it, his eyebrows shooting up toward his hairline. The young man’s voice was so soft and reserved, he hardly seemed the type to be hefting around a large sword. Though, from the sounds of it, that’s just what Cloud had. Footsteps approached the fire, nudging the burning wood about. Ignis could hear something in the air, temporarily muffling the fire as it moved in front of him. The heat of the room changed, just enough to notice -- warmth, diverted.
After a few more rustling noises came the all clear, "Okay. All yours."
Curious, Ignis reached forward with his left hand, finding a hard, metal surface. He leaned forward further, tracing his middle finger across the expanse of the metal, feeling where the heat was pooling, checking the surface for grooves or dips. The metal was beginning to heat rapidly, but that hardly bothered Ignis. He’d lost most sensitivity to heat in his fingers long, long ago. Where others felt the beginning of singed skin, he felt comfortable.
“I must hand it to you, Cloud,” Ignis smirked, clearly proud of his companion, “You have an eye for inspiration and creativity.”
The blonde reached into his bag, grabbing a vial of cooking oil. It wasn’t much, definitely only enough for what they would enjoy tonight, but the taste of a long desired, delectable meal would be much worth it. Ignis poured a bit of the oil in the center of the sword, before grabbing and laying the two stretches of meat across it. There was no immediate sizzle, and that was fine. It would take a few moments for him to find the true temperature range they would have to work with.
While the meat began to find its time to cook, Ignis pulled out one more surprise from his travel pack; a few peppers and two wild tomatoes. He had one small bowl to work with, more a cup to draw water from a stream, but it was better than nothing. He set the vegetables on the pack, placing the cup in front of him as he summoned a dagger to his hand. The familiar weight of the weapon, summoned from thin air, was the most comforting thing he had in this strange world.
Well, aside from perhaps the food they would soon be sharing.
Ignis took his dagger to the peppers first, slicing them into coin sized bits with an expert hand. Flicking away the seeds felt second nature as he placed the completed bits into the cup, readying the tomatoes to join them. It wasn’t the perfect vegetable medley, two somewhat sweeter options, but it was all he’d managed to find that wasn’t a tough root.
Seasoned well and sauteed on the sword, they would taste as good as anything, at least. The spices on the meat were just beginning to tease the room with their aroma -- and soon, more tempting scents would follow.
“So, Cloud,” Ignis broke the silence, gesturing to his companion for a moment before returning to slicing his vegetables, “Tell me a little bit about yourself. I’d love to take this opportunity to talk to someone aside from myself.”
But its too late, to go back. I can see the darkness, through the cracks. Daylight fading, I curse the breaking. The day is gone.
