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year 5, quarter 3
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Post by Cloud Strife on May 2, 2020 0:03:56 GMT -6
Involuntarily, Cloud rubbed his index finger and thumb together watching Ignis test the temperature of the sword-skillet barehanded. As if he could feel the heat by proxy. Or the nothing-feeling of nerves burned to numbness. He waited for a flinch or a hiss but there was none. The latter, then. Ignis made it clear the jerry-rigged camp kitchen would work and Cloud flashed a small grin. After weeks, maybe, of interminable wandering alone and a feeling like trying to run in a dream these acts of usefulness in small doses began to ease a weight off him. At least he could still do something right.
But Cloud voiced no reply and quiet followed as Ignis got to work.
You need to talk.
What?
He can't see. You need to remember to say things.
Shit.
Cloud sat on the floor back from the fire and drew his knees up and rested his forearms across them. He watched Ignis practice his culinary alchemy with the quiet interest of a layman faced with an artisan. Cloud had many skills and cooking was not one of them. When he was old enough to handle a knife his mother sometimes made him peel potatoes and he did so grudgingly but by the time he left home for Midgar he had long decided that he didn't need to learn. SOLDIERs didn't cook. They ate rations and focused on more important things like training and missions and whatever it was war heroes did. At fourteen he knew everything. At twenty-one he knew regret. He missed her and the things she could have taught him and the moments that never were. What would she think of him now? Sometimes he wanted to throttle his past self. Most of the time. There lay a wide gulf between the Clouds of past and present.
He had to let the thoughts drift by. It was easy to get mired in the muck of Back Then. Instead he drew his focus to the now. To the smell of woodsmoke and the warming cooking oil, the seasoned meat, the promised flavors. He stared curiously at the dagger in Ignis's hand that was not there before. Plucked from thin air. He wasn't sure what he had seen, tired and hungry as he was, questioning his own senses. It wasn't like they hadn't let him down before. He scrubbed a hand down his face, smearing the light streaks of dirt already present.
He sat up a little straighter upon Ignis's questioning. He fumbled for some way to evade the answer but found nothing that wasn't hostile and Ignis didn't deserve that. He rubbed the back of his neck. It was a request far more complicated than it seemed on the surface and even if he intended to be honest about it he didn't know where to start. How do you talk about a self you've barely known?
Distill it to facts, then. Simple and plain. All else was a minefield.
"...Used to be a mercenary," he said after some deliberation. "Now I'm just... on the road. Tryin' to find some friends of mine. I don't know this area too well."
Was that enough? It was something, at least. He drummed his fingertips against his forearm.
Ignis continued to cut his vegetables as a near silence overtook the room. He figured such a thing may happen, as it was clear that Cloud was not the talkative type. Most of their exchanged words up to this point had been short and precise. He couldn’t say what would make a young man like Cloud so seemingly bashful or contemplative. Perhaps he had an old soul, much happier listening to stories than telling them. The blonde nearly opened his mouth to apologize for putting his companion on the spot, but Cloud’s soft voice cut through the silence, over the crackle of the fire.
"...Used to be a mercenary. Now I'm just... on the road. Tryin' to find some friends of mine. I don't know this area too well."
A mercenary? How interesting. Cloud Strife didn’t seem the mercenary type, or so Iggy had come to believe in their short time spent together. Such a soft spoken man, willing to help a stranger in need, taking on any work, anywhere. Briefly, Ignis wondered what kind of life Cloud must have lived up to this point. Where he’d come from, what he’d done. It was in his nature to want to know the ins and outs of others, in order to best strategize their movements and use in potential battle situations.
Not knowing the area well, seemed code for; I’m not from here.
Well, as far as that went, they were two peas in a pod.
"What about you? You from around here?"
And with that, the tables turned. Ignis shook his head as he finished cutting up the last of the peppers in his stash, waving a hand over the sword in front of him. The heat was certainly building, and the meat was just beginning to sizzle. Once it reached a peak temperature, it would only take a few minutes on each side to sear thoroughly enough.
“I’m afraid not,” Ignis replied smoothly, despite the way that information weighed heavily on his shoulders, “It appears we’re walking similar paths. I’m searching for a friend of mine, as he’s the only memory I seemed to have clearly retained from my life before I woke up in this strange place.”
The blind man de-summoned the dagger from his hand, allowing it to disappear into thin air as easily as it had first come to be. With practiced expertise, he grabbed the vial of oil and drizzled some onto the sword, further away from the meat and fire in order to execute a lower cooking temperature. Ignis piled his chopped vegetables onto the oil drips, reaching into his bag to adorn them with seasonings.
“I have never laid eyes on this land,” he admitted, smelling one of the spices before deciding to pinch some liberally over the peppers and tomatoes, “I woke up here some time ago, injured and blind, with no idea what happened. It’s been a journey, to say the least.”
Ignis said the last bit with humor, though there was a hidden mirth just barely lacing his tone. He knew the small smile on his face was likely haunted in some way, despite the positivity he desperately attempted to force into it. Releasing a held breath through his nose, he urged it to roll off of his shoulders. Away, away. He could worry about such things another time -- not while entertaining a guest.
“Do mercenaries accept food as payment?” He joked with a small laugh, pulling out a small, sharpened stick from his pack and offering it to Cloud, “Maybe I could use your services one day, should you choose to resume that line of work. For now, I would ask that you please stir the vegetables best you can with this. I’ll be needing to focus on the meat.”
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 May 9, 2020 0:50:19 GMT -6
What was the price of memory? Cloud paid for it in the dark of the night when the screams of the dying in Nibelheim echoed in his skull and the bodies of his friends lay cold and bloodied at his feet. He paid for it when he jumped at shadows and the sounds of twigs cracking like bone and when his peripheral vision caught a flash of silver and black that disappeared when he turned to face it. And yet for all the ill that scarred his mind he wouldn't trade it away. Good and bad shaped him. Gave context to every instinct and thought and feeling. He remembered what it was like to not remember. To fashion a self on a foundation of quicksand. To grasp at a truth that sat achingly out of reach. There were worse fates, Cloud knew, but not many.
"Oh," he said, because he didn't know what else to say. How to voice his commiseration.
He frowned. Here Ignis trekked the road with supplies to spare and Cloud - dirty, hungry, exhausted - felt sorry for him. In the long quiet dusk and the long quiet dawn Cloud could still reach back into his memory for pictures of better times. For fireworks at Gold Saucer, a father reunited with his daughter, a view of the planet from the edge of space, a night beneath the Highwind. Memories to fuel each step forward when there was no food to do the same. What would he have done without them? And blind besides? Sometimes life was a cruel joke. He found himself studying the man's face in the light of the fire as if its shifting patterns might illuminate some unseen truth from a new angle. Ignis seemed to take all of this in stride and Cloud didn't know the man so maybe that was true. But Cloud himself was a liar when it came to such matters and he thought he glimpsed in Ignis a mask all too familiar.
But something he said struck Cloud.
Ignis woke up here, too.
Ever since he washed up on shore like a slab of driftwood Cloud attributed his circumstances to his last clear memory. Defeating Sephiroth, the lifestream bubbling up from the depths of the crater, everything collapsing around them. After he discarded the notion that he was dead it made sense to him that it was something from his world that threw him here, somehow. In the days and weeks before he made it to the road he explained all this to a tree and the face he made out of the patterns on the bark seemed receptive to the idea. But Ignis hadn't been in the Northern Crater and still ended up in this place. So maybe he was thinking about it all wrong. There was no push, but a pull. He rubbed his chin and gave himself a five o'clock shadow of dirt.
Red XIII would probably have some theory gleaned from Bugenhagen's teachings. Or if Aerith were still--
Not now.
Cloud shook the thought away. He breathed deep the smell of the cookfire and the sizzling meat and the fact that he didn't know what exactly that meat was did not and would not trouble him. Yes, he would take payment in food and still feel like he came out ahead.
Ignis offered Cloud a stick and Cloud reached out and took it uncomprehendingly. He had a line about beggars not being choosers when it came to payment but then Ignis clarified the purpose of the stick and Cloud stared blankly at the vegetables on the sword. He blinked and in a flash his brain displayed for him every permutation of every way he could make the most basic act of cooking go horribly wrong.
Come on. You drove a submarine after skimming the manual and sunk three Shinra attack subs. You can stir some vegetables without screwing it up.
It was something to focus on. With everything swirling around in his head he could use something to order his thoughts.
"Sure. No problem," Cloud said. He shuffled forward and sat nearer the fire and prodded the vegetables cautiously and shuffled them about on the oiled surface of the sword. Nothing burst into flames. So far so good.
In a beat of quiet his mind backtracked. He couldn't shake Ignis's tale. He didn't know what he could do about it but something in him told him he had to do something and it wouldn't shut up until he did. He said, with quiet sincerity: "I uh... I'm sorry about everything you're dealing with. With your sight and your memory. You want to tell me anything about your friend, maybe I can keep a look out for him. Call it even for the food."
In which Iggy knows every detail about Noctis because its his job
Cloud seemed a tad hesitant to agree to his newly assigned task. Ignis couldn’t help but give a coy, knowing smile. Yet another young man in his life that hardly knew anything about cooking, it seemed. It was so shockingly common, it led Ignis to wonder how they experienced life up until now. What were their worlds like, their home lives? Was food cheaper and more readily available on the streets, perhaps? Did someone else cook for them, or did their jobs provide? Simple, silly little questions that gave him some temporary distraction from his own mountainous problems.
With the vegetables being taken care of, Ignis reached forward and gave the meat a touch, testing how easily it bounced back against his fingers. It was hot, of course, but pressure was the only true way of determining the cook on a piece of meat if you couldn’t read a thermometer. It still had too much give, meaning it was not near done enough. Ignis gently grasped the sides of the meat, flipping them onto their other sides to gain a sear and more cook time. He gave the cooked side a gentle prod, feeling that the crust was hardened and thoroughly cooked. A few more minutes on the second side and it would be ready.
Over the steady crackle of the fire and sizzle of the food came Cloud’s soft voice. "I uh... I'm sorry about everything you're dealing with. With your sight and your memory. You want to tell me anything about your friend, maybe I can keep a look out for him. Call it even for the food."
Ignis waved a hand, nonchalant, “Life throws many, many roadblocks our way. Overcoming them is a part of the experience.”
That was, of course, and understatement. But, it was Iggy’s job to keep a positive attitude and to always look for a solution, no matter the situation. He was bred for the challenge, and however he’d lost his sight … He was confident it had something to do with Noctis. The blonde gently touched at the scarring beneath his left eye, the skin texture unnatural under his fingers.
“I pray to the Six that Noctis is here,” Ignis sighed, leaning back slightly, his shoulders hunched as he frowned, “He wears a black jacket with a dark shirt underneath, long, black cargo shorts, and black boots. I know, it seems excessive, but that’s the style in Insomnia these days.”
He could see Noctis so clearly in his mind. Everything from his sweet face as a child, to his more moody, teenager years. The stubborn sighs, the devilish smirks, the hesitant, shy looks when he knew he’d done something truly kind and felt bashful being praised for such.
“He has black hair that frames his face, slightly longer on the right side. It’s unruly on top of his head and behind, sticking every which way depending on the wind. One glove on his left hand, and subtle, blue eyes,” Ignis rambled on, having memorized every detail of his dear friend and brother over the years. Realizing that was likely quite the lengthy description, the blind man laughed lightly, “Ah, that was probably information overkill, wasn’t it? When there’s only one face you remember, it definitely sticks out, maybe more than it once did.”
That was a lie, of course. Ignis had memorized every detail about Noctis because that was his job. To serve the future king, to be his carrier of knowledge, to help ease his burdens. To be his best friend.
Ignis sat back up straight, prodding at the meat to give it another test. Good, it was nearly finished! He fumbled for his nearby bag, pulling out two small bowls he’d managed to trade for a couple of days before. For the meat, they could probably skewer it on sticks he had … Not the ideal situation, but when one lacked plates and forks, one made due.
“Good, we’re just about ready. Now, while I tend to this, why don’t you tell me about these friends you’re searching for? If I hear their names, I’ll be able to hopefully point them your way.”
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 May 16, 2020 0:16:41 GMT -6
Cloud listened closely to Ignis, intermittently shuffling the vegetables around with the stick-spatula. The pitch of their sizzling changing with the movement. Still not on fire. Good sign. He thought Ignis sounded like a storyteller. Detail enough to breathe life into anything with words alone. The image rendered itself layer by layer in his head. There were words and phrases that stumbled him - The Six, Insomnia. The only insomnia Cloud knew came when he tried to sleep. But in spite of it he swore he could conjure in his mind's eye a replica of this Noctis walking the road outside the hut. Overkill or not.
"Well, now I'll know him if I see him," Cloud said.
Could he do the same? When he closed his eyes he saw Tifa standing in the scrubgrass on a cliffside looking back towards him. Gloved hands clasped loosely behind her. The wind played at her long brown hair, brushed it back from her face. The sun low in the sky casting a halo of light around her. When her ruby eyes fixed on him they caught the light so perfectly--
No, he didn't have the words, but that wasn't a new problem.
He opened his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck and hoped the ache in his chest might disappear but he knew that it wouldn't.
When the turnaround of the question came, Cloud thought a moment of how to answer it. How to sum up the lot of them, this ragtag crew of misfits bound together by chance, by circumstance, by a quest bigger than all of them. Every thread he tugged on, it seemed, led to something more complicated. He cleared his throat. It would take more talking than he'd like, but he supposed even by his standards he had an excess stored up from his weeks of solitude.
"Before I woke up here... We were fighting to save the planet. It's-- it's a long story. There's eight of us countin' me."
Should be nine, he thought, and that simple truth was a dagger between his ribs.
He didn't look at Ignis while he spoke but at least this time it didn't matter. It was easier to focus his thoughts if he could stare at nothing and not worry about eyes on him, studying him, judging.
"Barret... You'll hear him from five miles away. 'Cause he's either yelling at something or shooting at it. But, he's a good guy. He's got a little girl, Marlene. If she's not here with him there'll be hell to pay."
Cloud had only ever seen flashes of it. The rage and the anguish when Barret thought he'd lost her for good. He didn't want to think of the lengths the man would go to get her back if she was missing here, with no one around to rein him in. He set the idea aside and continued.
"Cid's a mechanic and a pilot. You could say he's... rough around the edges. Smokes like a chimney. Red XIII is... I don't really know how to describe-- He looks like some animal but he's not. He's wiser than most people I've met. Yuffie's probably rippin' somebody off right now. If it's not bolted down you gotta watch it around her, and even then..." Cloud shook his head. They'd made amends but he'd be lying if he said her stunt back in Wutai didn't still nag at some place in the back of his mind. He could forget it if it meant finding a familiar face in this new world.
"Cait Sith..." Cloud cleared his throat again, "...is a... cat... robot. It'll take too long to explain. Vincent's a sharpshooter. Keeps to himself mostly. Kind of on the theatrical side. And Tifa..."
The tone of his voice changed instantly. He might've been embarrassed by it if he noticed it happening at all but he couldn't help it. He watched the pulsing red coals beneath his sword and he thought about what he could say about Tifa. There was so much he didn't know how to say. If there was one constant about him it was the failure of words to capture what went through his mind.
"...Tifa's probably out there helping people who need it. She's... she's strong. She's always taking care of everybody else."
It typically took Cloud a moment to find the words he wanted to say, or so Ignis had noted so far in their short time conversing together. He gave the swordsman a moment to figure out how best to describe his situation, yet he was unprepared when Cloud spoke up. His brows furrowed in concentration as he nearly lost his grip on the flank of meat he was turning upon the sword at the young man’s words -- saving the world. It sounded like something out of a fairy tale, and yet, it also felt so similar and real.
That was preposterous, though. There was no way Ignis Scientia could have been involved in doing something similar. He pushed the thought far from his mind, thinking he must have simply blended an ancient memory about a cartoon Noctis enjoyed with reality. Instead, he focused on the descriptions of Cloud’s friends.
Barret, a proud father, loud and boisterous with his weapon and his voice. Cid, the cursing, chain smoking mechanic (why did that sound familiar?). Red XIII -- an interesting name, for an interesting description. An animal but not an animal? That could apparently speak? Yuffie, a thief from the sounds of it. Or a con-artist? Cait Sith, a cat robot. That … was somewhat peculiar. Vincent, the quiet and theatrical sharpshooter.
Cloud’s voice was warm as he spoke about his companions, as odd as the descriptions were. It was clear he shared a bond with them, and such knowledge warmed Ignis’s heart. If his hands hadn’t been so close to the heat, he likely would have simply paused to listen, to bask in the well-disguised care Cloud had for his lost friends. Instead he kept to work, summoning a dagger to his left hand and grabbing one of the small bowls with his right, carefully scraping half of the vegetable mixture into the bowl with the dulled, back edge of the dagger. No need to cause damage to the sword, after all.
As Ignis took care of the second batch of vegetables, Cloud finished his explanation. The name Tifa left his lips, and the young man’s tone changed entirely. Scientia paused, placing the second bowl on the wooden ground next to him. Tifa … She clearly meant a lot to Cloud. Strong and always taking care of others. The way the mercenary spoke about her, for a moment Ignis could picture nothing short of an angel. Cloud’s voice betrayed him that warmth and longing, for someone he clearly cared for.
Warm memories betrayed one to cold, unforgiving loneliness. Ignis frowned, remembering the ache in his own chest. He missed Noctis dearly, he knew, because Noct was a brother to him. But, there were others too … People and memories who had been stolen from him, much like his sight, when he woke up in this strange world. People he longed to remember, to find, and to know were safe. The blonde swallowed, taking a breath and composing himself. Now wasn’t the time to fight the fog in his mind. There would be plenty of time for that when he tried to rest, as happened every night.
“That’s quite the group of friends,” Ignis chuckled warmly, glancing over the fire with a small smile, “If I find any of them, I’ll be sure to try and point them your way, and reassure them that you’re alright.”
He procured another couple of sharpened sticks from his pack and reached forward, pinning down one of the flanks with his dagger and skewering it with a fair bit of ease. Balancing it across one bowl of vegetables, Ignis made quick work of the second flank, stabbing his dagger into the ground beside him before grabbing the second bowl. Skewered meat in one hand and a bowl of vegetables in the other, he happily offered them out to Cloud -- or, the relative space where it seemed the mercenary was.
“Thank you for your help, Cloud,” Ignis told him sincerely, clearly implying that he was thanking the young man for more than just poking around the vegetables, “I’m afraid it’s not my best, but I do hope you enjoy it.”
Someday, he would be able to cook Mr. Strife a proper meal, were they to ever cross paths again. To make up for having to eat with a stick and cooking over a sword.
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 Jun 9, 2020 22:41:52 GMT -6
He raised his head and regarded Ignis only after he finished telling his tale. Quite the group of friends. There wasn't much else to say about all of that. Cloud huffed a toneless sound that passed for a chuckle and rubbed the back of his head. He didn't expect Ignis to remember all of them nor find them in his travels but he appreciated the sentiment all the same.
They were quite the group. An incongruous assortment of people thrown together by crisis like the odds and ends in a junk drawer. It never hit him like that until he rattled them off one after the other. An improbable list. Outside the hut the sky had turned a deep blue-purple and grew darker and a dim thought seeped into his head like the deepening night and he wondered even if he found them what would happen to them now. His friends that, bar Tifa, he'd known for a grand total of a few weeks. His friends bound together by a quest to save a planet they were no longer on. Cloud never heard a story that told the tale of what happened to the heroes after they went through hell and walked out the other side. After they beat the bad guy and saved the world the credits rolled and the audience was left to assume that everyone lived happily ever after and nothing changed between them.
The fire popped beneath his sword and his eyes followed the small burst of sparks as they sailed upward with the smoke and drifted apart and disappeared into the dark.
Stop trying to predict the future. You're never right anyway.
He took in a long slow breath to clear his mind. The savory smell of the meat filled the crumbling little hut and overpowered the woodsmoke of the cookfire. So strong he could taste it. Low, empty rumble in his stomach. Up until that point he'd done an admirable job ignoring his own hunger, as good a job as he'd done ignoring his pressing need for a solid night's sleep or, in the lifetime of maybe a month ago, ignoring his own impending mental breakdown. Cloud had a talent for that sort of thing, just a notch below his knack for swinging a sword around, but only one of those ever made him money.
He watched Ignis plating up the food like a dog at the dinner table. Reflection of the firelight in the shine of the oil on the surface of the meat. The perfect browning of it. If any meal had ever looked so good in his life he couldn't remember it. Starving gave a man a different perspective. He took the skewered meat and the bowl of vegetables as Ignis handed them over and fought the ravenous urge to devour it then and there. He owed Ignis some manners first.
"I should be the one thanking you," Cloud said. "You're doin' all the work."
Then he ripped a chunk of meat from the skewer with his teeth and chewed it thoughtfully and closed his eyes as if sight might detract some sensitivity from taste and smell. He savored it. It was all he could do to not tear through it all in an instant. From the first bite he felt energy returning to him. Clarity in his head. The gnawing ache in his stomach fading.
"Man, this is..." he paused, chewing another mouthful. He tried to grasp for something out of reach of his vocabulary and settled for a low satisfied noise and a quiet, honest voice. "...This is really good, Ignis."
Somewhere along the way he stopped pacing himself and the food disappeared. He wiped his mouth on the back of his arm and set the bare skewer in the empty bowl on the floor of the hut between himself and Ignis. The hut had gotten cozier and the trek ahead of him didn't seem so long anymore. A full stomach made reality bearable in a way few other things did.
Cloud took the food that was offered to him with the same carefully controlled hesitance he had while speaking. It was all for show, of course, as his stomach had given away his predicament quite some time ago. Ignis smiled and tilted his head forward nonetheless, eager to start into his own portion after quite the long day of travel, “I assure you, it feels much less like work, and more like purpose.”
Eating was still a bit tricky from time to time, especially with such wonky utensils. Still, Iggy took little time to tear into the first piece of meat on his skewer, taking in the flavor. It was milder than he’d ever intend to cook, the seasonings basic, but the flesh itself was tender and pleasantly chewy. Tucked away in the bite was the flavor and aroma of the fire, so wonderfully nostalgic. Again, Ignis’s memories teetered on the verge of remembering something warm, something important. The memories of various different campfires, of differing meals. Yet, even as he took another bite, the memory never came to life. It lingered there, taunting him, just out of reach, the embers slowly dying out.
Cloud’s wonderfully honest compliment dragged Ignis out of his headspace, bringing a warmth to his heart. In any other situation he may have scoffed and tried to play it off, pushing any of the attention off of himself. But, knowing he could still make a decent meal while in the middle of nowhere, blind as a bat … He let the pride well inside of his chest, just this once.
“I believe it turned out well, given the circumstances,” the once-retainer agreed, resting a hand in his lap as he paced himself, “The best meals are those shared with others.”
Silence lapsed between the two as they enjoyed their meals. Cloud’s well-maintained control slipped away, bit by bit with each further bite, and Iggy found himself satisfied with the results of the evening. The food in his bowl and on his skewer slowly disappeared as well, each additional bite a thankful offering to his neglected stomach. He’d lost weight since starting his lonesome journey; a negative side effect, as he wished to remain in peak physical condition for when he reunited with Noctis.
But, perhaps it wouldn’t be long before he’d made his way to civilization once more. There, he could do more good, for those around him and for his own search.
Ignis set aside his empty bowl and meat skewer, letting loose a satisfied sigh. The evening in the small hut had been quite fulfilling in many more ways than one. Perhaps he was much more of a social creature than he’d ever given himself credit for. Iggy took a moment to straighten up his effects, ensuring each item was placed in a bag and there was no clutter in the space. Other than the sticks and stones, of course.
“Perhaps now, we should take advantage of each other’s company to get a decent night’s rest,” Ignis voiced his thought aloud, taking a moment to stretch out the stiffness in his shoulders. With two, they had the advantage of not having to fear the creatures of the night for once. So many evenings Ignis had spent, shivering in the shrubs, unable to really give way to sleep as he listened to the symphony of the night time creatures around him.
Magic warmed his palms for only a moment before the empty space was filled with an elaborate polearm. Though he could no longer see it, Ignis knew the weapon well; it’s sleek, dark steel and long, sharp blade were to be feared as much as admired.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to take the first watch,” Ignis stated, coming off as more of a demand than it was an offering despite his words, “I typically travel through part of the night as it is, so I’m not quite ready to turn in.”
Cloud had no reason to trust his skills, of course, other than the fact that he’d made it so far on his own. However, he hoped his confidence could give the other man the reassurance he would need to take a few hours of good rest, lulled to sleep by a full stomach. Ignis felt the little breeze that snuck around their structure, regaining an understanding as to where the wall most opened to the outside. He gracefully picked himself up off of the dirt floor, taking only a moment to pat the loose fleks of earth from his trousers as he drifted toward the edge of their abode.
There, he could hear the sounds of the night more clearly, less obstructed by partially standing walls.
In the silence, he pleaded with Strife, I swear, I’ll have your back, and I know that you will have mine.
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 Jul 27, 2020 14:24:12 GMT -6
When Ignis started cleaning up his cooking implements, Cloud took that as his cue to grab his sword off the coals. He felt the warmth even in the grip. He set it aside to cool, leaning lengthwise against the hut's ruined wall, flat edge on the ground. He'd scrub it down with sand in the morning. If all else failed, another fire spell would burn the remaining grease to carbon. Clean enough.
The hut was lit by a low red glow now, the coals pulsing but offering little in the way of radiated heat. If they were going to get some sleep, like Ignis said, Cloud needed to build the fire back up. Palm pressed against the hut floor, Cloud was about to push up to his feet when there was a flash, the light of the coals suddenly refracted in every direction and casting kaleidoscopic patterns on the hut walls for a fraction of a second. Cloud blinked. He was tired enough to think the appearing and disappearing dagger might have been sleight of hand, but there was no way Ignis hid a polearm up his sleeve.
"Uh--" Cloud started. It was nice enough for Ignis to offer to take watch and Cloud was exhausted down to the marrow of his bones. There was a saying about looking gift chocobos in the beak but something about the situation didn't sit quite right.
What's the problem?
...Is it still a watch if he can't see?
Don't think too hard about it. He got this far on his own.
He rubbed the back of his head and then he shrugged.
"Sure, if you want. Let me build back the fire first."
Cloud pushed up to his feet and gathered one of the smaller folding swords that he'd left out of the cooking assembly. He locked the handle in place and stepped over the rubble and past the fire and out of the hut. The gravel crunched softly under the heavy soles of his boots. The weeds pushing up through the dirt whispered against his pantlegs as he passed.
The sword wasn't made for this kind of work but Cloud muscled through it. The wood of the door was dry and weatherbeaten and brittle. It wasn't ideal for burning but making due had become a trend in Cloud's life. What he didn't cleave in a single chop he snapped into rough pieces with his hands and his boots. When it was done he dropped an armload of firewood near the fire and made a teepee of fuel over the coals and blew the fire back to life. He folded his sword and set it down with his counterpart and sat down in the corner again and rested his forearms over his knees.
"Okay," he said, "That should do for now. Wake me when it's time to switch."
But he knew he'd probably still be awake.
He closed his eyes and let the time pass. He drifted off into a world of dreams. He heard his friends call out to him. He watched the world crumble around him. He woke with a quiet start and blinked his bleary eyes and cast a glance around the hut and then tried to sleep again and the cycle repeated until it was his turn to take watch.
He stoked the fire and he scrubbed the dirt from his swords. Eventually, morning came. It was time to move on.
"Mornin', Ignis," he said. He cracked his shoulders and gathered up his swords, fixing the two folding blades into the main assembly. Then he swung the full Fusion sword onto his back.
The sounds of splintering wood echoed about the partial walls as Cloud got to work building up the fire for the hut. Fire kept monsters at bay and would keep them warm as the cool winds of the region kicked up during the late night hours, and for that, Ignis was thankful. He hadn’t attempted to create a fire on his own out in the wilds quite yet, since he wouldn’t be able to make sure it was properly contained. As Cloud busied himself setting the split planks Ignis recalled the pleasant evening they’d shared. Having spent so long on his own, a night of good food and decent conversation had done his spirit wonders.
The fire blazed quietly and warmed the small, broken abode. Ignis pressed his back further against the bit of wall he was situated against, his ears attuned to the sounds of nightlife amongst the trees. The calls of nocturnal insects, the small, scurrying steps of mammals at dusk. In the far distance there were louder shuffles and sounds in the branches, but nothing concerning. Iggy calmly laid his polearm across his lap, soaking up the heat of the fire on one side while the other was nipped by the cool winds.
Too often he was left to silence, but this time he had other thoughts to focus on rather than the same old that haunted him. He’d made a new acquaintance, and he had many names and descriptions to commit to memory. Beyond that, he took stock of what food stores he had left, making a mental note to catch more morsels when he had time.
The night passed slowly, and Ignis let himself be consumed by the nocturnal calls he’d become so accustomed to. At some point, a gentle tap on his shoulder alerted him that Cloud was ready to take the rest of the watch. Iggy offered him a quiet thanks, before dispelling his weapon and finding another spot further within the hut to curl up for the next couple of hours. He laid out his coat, hardly worried about the dirt and grime as he laid himself down, his bottom half sore from being propped against the wall for so long.
Sleep came and went in fitful bouts. Nightmares and memories always drifted through his consciousness, taunting him with their incompleteness. Yet, it was more restful than anything he’d gotten underneath the foliage.
The sun rose, and Ignis rose with it, just as one schedule as he’d been back in Lucis. He rose from his makeshift mat and stretched fully with a yawn, rolling out the aches from a fitful rest on dirt. Cloud welcomed him to the waking world with a quiet greeting, and Ignis gave him a small smile.
“Good morning yourself, Cloud,” Iggy replied, patting the inevitable dust from his pant legs best he could. It was time to hit the road, unfortunately, and the two of them were headed in separate directions. Ignis turned his head to the sky, detecting what light he could to determine his path north. He reached down, collecting his packed effects before turning to give Cloud a smile.
“Though I wish we could both start the day by splitting a pot of coffee, I’m afraid such a stimulant is missing from my little collection,” Ignis patted his travel bag, before running a hand through his short hair, willing it to stand the way he preferred. Goodness, he’d need to wash up sooner rather than later.
Parting was such sweet sorrow, but daylight slipped by with every passing moment. Ignis nodded to Cloud, his tone light though the thought of traveling alone once more was depressing, “It was wonderful to meet you, Cloud. Please, be safe on your journey. I do hope you find everyone you’re looking for.”
With their parting goodbyes shared, Ignis started back on his path toward Sonora; continuing his journey to find Noctis.
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.
