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year 5, quarter 3
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Ignis couldn’t help the hearty chuckle that escaped his lips as the stranger mentioned his plight with his umbrella. It was cruel, of course, to laugh at the unfortunate circumstance of another. But, he couldn’t help but imagine himself, fighting with and cursing an umbrella as it betrayed him and flipped inside out to soak him in the unforgiving rain. As if he didn’t have enough issues walking around the city as it was! No, he would stick to wearing a thick coat and dealing with the icy waves as they came.
The rain continued its angry downpour, with no intention of letting up anytime soon. That was the terrible thing about Sonora this time of year, a few of the older crowd had explained to Ignis as he’d settled into the job. The rainy season mixed the already dreary, cloudy atmosphere of Sonora with icy pellets and sometimes heavy snow, making an already freezing trip to the store nearly unbearable. He wondered how long the rainy season would last, as the timer for the warmer ticked down slowly. A watched pot never boiled, but maybe the same could be said for a timer that one was all too aware of?
The sodden stranger was quite kind, though, and that was enough to warm anyone’s heart away from the dreary, freezing temperature just beyond the door. The oven pinged, and Ignis felt the warmth spread over his fingers as he opened the door. A quick snatch with the tongs, and the warm, delectable scone was on a plate and ready to serve. A cranberry orange scone, if he remembered its placement correctly. A blend of sweet and citrus-y tang.
As he turned to put the plate in front of the man, that deep voice spoke up again underneath dripping clothes, rough enough around the edge to keep it from being too soft, “What brought you to Sonora?”
Ignis set the plate down before the man, before reaching to grab his coffee from the surface behind the counter where he’d left it. He took a quick sip, relishing in the warmth for a moment before giving his answer, “I’m looking for someone, as it were. This city is more like home than any other I’ve been to, so I thought …”.
Ah, well, he’d thought. And wished. And prayed.
Ignis waved a hand in front of his face, as if to push away any further thought of Noctis, and his current failures to find the crown price, “My tale is no different than many other people I’ve bumped into here or there. I simply settled, instead of continuing to wander aimlessly.”
The blonde smiled, despite himself. The struggles were very real, and his disappointment in himself was immeasurable. All of this time, and not a word of Noctis. He knew the prince was among them, or else he would have no access to his weapons. Even more than that, he knew it in his heart. His dearest friend was in the world, somewhere, somehow.
“Oh, where are my manners?” Ignis wondered aloud, offended at himself for simply telling his own story without trading names with his customer first. He bowed his head slightly, one arm at his side while the other kept his coffee cup up as he spoke politely, “Ignis Scientia, of … well, Zapp’s Cafe, at the moment.”
He came back to his full height, glancing back at the stranger for all the good it did him, “And yourself? I doubt the charming weather is what attracted you to the city of Sonora.”
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.
Cissnei’s question came as an honest one, if not with an underlying hint of her mischievous nature. Ignis allowed himself to be further guided toward the bar, as it was necessary lest he run himself into a table or two, “Oh, no, not at all. I’d hardly the time … But, I did dabble in various spirits for baking purposes, and the occasional cocktail.”
The bar was comfortingly warm, and he felt his cheeks flush, appreciating the heat. Ignis folded his sight cane back into its pocket sized form, slipping it into his coat pocket. His gloved fingers found the stool, and he took a moment to remove them so he could feel the seating surface. Cool, pleasant leather. Humming in approval, he took off his coat and set it on the next stool over -- hearing there was no one else nearby. If someone else desired the seat, he’d be more than happy to move his effects.
The blonde situated himself onto the stool, his shoes easily touching the hard surface of the floor. His fingers traced against the bartop, lined with wood but beyond that, something cool. Possibly granite? It didn’t have the drag of stainless steel. He smiled lightly, happy for a moment to settle into something new slowly, taking in the sounds, the scents. Though alcohol itself had its own typical odor, Ignis could easily pick up on various other scents. Oak. Fruits. He could imagine the burn of whiskey from the scent alone.
The bartender nearby was … Oh, what was that? The squeak of cloth against glass. Ah, he was drying a glass.
The man inquired as to their order, and Cissnei was quick and comfortable to order her drink as well as something for them to share. She was too kind, really. Iggy let his shoulders relax as he imagined the incoming sip of red wine he’d desired for many, many months since setting forth on his journey in this new world, “A dry sangiovese, if you have one. Please.”
Though he didn’t drink often, Ignis did consider himself a bit of a wine snob. Only a fool would consider cooking wine as something that would give a dish flavor … No, good wine was necessary to elevate a dish from average to extraordinary. The fruity notes of a pinot noir. The dry spice of a merlot, stewed slowly over a long time with beef. Flavors that sank into your very soul when they hit the tongue.
There you go again, thinking too much about the food Noctis never care to eat much of.
And oh, what he’d give to have the young Prince turn his nose up at a vegetable right now.
Cissnei made herself comfortable beside him, elongating a limb to the bar. Ignis glanced to his left to listen to her carefully, though he knew he could not make eye contact with her. It helped him to feel a little more normal, despite not seeing for such a time now, “So, tell me. Who is this Noctis you are looking for?”
Iggy raised a thoughtful eyebrow as the young woman continued, “I am an investigator, you see? Maybe I can help?”
“A cafe owner and an investigator? You must keep quite busy,” Ignis mused, a layer of tease to his voice. His heart softened, however. She had been nothing but kind to him, from the very moment he woke up in pain and sightless in a forest so far from their current position. Could one woman possibly have that much kindness to extend? Or was it simply his condition that led her to be nothing but soft and warm to him? How could she continue to selflessly offer things, when he had yet to give her anything in return -- other than a well baked scone.
There was no sense in trying to talk himself into the potential negatives of sharing his information about Noctis with Cissnei. He had no leads, and no easy way to find any.
“Noctis Lucis Caelum,” Ignis said the name with a familiarity deeper than he had with his own, but a fondness that betrayed any neutrality he’d tried to show, “is his full name. Where we are from, he’s the crown prince, and my dearest friend. A brother, or as much of a family as I’d ever have.”
Ignis brought his hands together, fidgeting a bit with his fingers, a habit he’d gotten into after losing his sight and being unable to glance away from a conversation for a much needed pause, “I know he is here, somewhere, but I … Well, I’m having some obvious difficulties finding him. But, I must find him. I’m also his royal highness’s retainer.”
He paused a moment, a thoughtful, wistful expression crossing his scarred features.
“And I know … I am far from the only person, looking for someone else.”
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.
As Ignis pleaded with the pounding in his head to cease, a deep voice above him, coarse and unsure, suddenly sounded out every syllable of his nickname.
The blonde snapped his head to attention, his functioning eye going wide while his left made a sad attempt to do the same. It was a voice he knew was deeply familiar, and yet, he hadn’t heard it in so very, very long. It had been lost to the amnesia he suffered from, from the moment he’d woken up in the forest of a strange world. Yet, just as the man’s name had snapped so many of those memories back into place, so too did his voice cement them there.
There was a loud rustling from the top of the bunk, the sound of scrambling limbs and huffs of disbelief, shaking the metal structure with the shifts of weight. Iggy took one cautious step back as his lips searched for the words, any words, any sounds as feet hit the floor next to him. He couldn’t see, but he could feel that familiar presence.
The sounds of the prison died away. The itchiness of the clothes he’d been shoved into, the putrid smells, the ringing in his ears. The goosebumps that had crossed his skin as strangers, criminals had manhandled him in the hall. The coldness of his wet hair, plastered to the top of his head. It all fell away the instant a strong hand fell on his shoulder, and the laughter shook through the desolate air.
Fate was a strange mistress indeed.
“Gladio,” he breathed the name with a mixture of relief and disbelief. Ignis’s hand, slightly trembling from the intense emotion he felt, fumbled forward to touch Gladio and concrete his presence in the blind man’s mind. Immediately, his hand made contact with a chest that felt more like iron than flesh, even buried underneath the prison garb. He moved his hand further up, giving the Shield’s shoulder a tight squeeze.
The insane risk he had taken had paid off tremendously. He thought it would take days of scouring the prison to find Gladiolus. Or, worse, he would have forced himself to be arrested to find out that it wasn’t Gladio at all -- nothing but a fictitious rouse.
Gladio’s relieved, manic laughter dissipated as quickly as it had come on. It seemed the realization of the situation had come back into the spotlight, and all of those things that had fell away only moments before came rushing back. The cold. The pain. The overbearing presence of it all. Right, this was still, quite possibly, the worst situation they could be in. His mind had carefully calculated the risks, and he’d memorized everything he could about the layout of the prison since he’d been brought in but …
Ignis knew this was a terrible, horrid idea.
His relieved smile gave way to a grimace as the blonde blinked his sightless eye, but he did not back down, “I received a bit of intel that you were here. Unfortunately … without a lot of powerful friends in high places, this was the only route I had left to find you.”
Not to mention the awful, stomach wrenching fact that he’d forgotten who Gladio was for months. That part didn’t need to be vocalized; now or ever.
He couldn’t imagine what Gladio had gone through in the prison. He knew, very well, he was in for one unpleasant surprise after another. But, despite the very high risks, it was well worth it. This moment was well worth it. To find Gladio, alive and in one piece, would make this hell on earth bearable, no matter what it threw at him.
At least, that was what he’d keep telling himself.
“I know this is no preferable reunion,” Ignis stated grimly, well aware of the consequences he’d assigned himself. He retracted his hand from Gladio’s shoulder, choosing instead to rub the sore spot on his head once more, “But, I couldn’t let you suffer in this hell hole alone. Not another moment. This was the only way, and whatever may befall me next -- so be it. Noctis needs the both of us, and you can’t be left here to rot.”
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.
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.
One novel because I don't know if Iggy will repeat any of this
It all started with a name.
Ignis had been living a relatively normal life in Sonora. He held a few jobs, and worked hard to perfect his new disability. Though he’d been unable to locate Noctis in his time in the city, the retainer was undeterred. He learned every street, mapped every motion, learned every name that he could. Ignis could name buildings as he passed them, he could greet people before they greeted him. Life had improved exponentially for the blonde in the many months after waking up in an unknown land, and yet, it was nowhere near perfect.
There were memories still lost. Every once in a while, one of them would come to him, slipping delicately through his fingers. A face. A voice. A laugh. He could see other figures around a campfire, he could feel how much he trusted them and laid his life in their hands.
It was more than infuriating that he couldn’t remember them. They felt like extensions of himself; parts of Ignis Scientia that he often held back, due to his duties, because of what was expected of him. He feared he would not remember them, anything about them, until he reunited with Noctis. Or, worse, he would never remember them at all, and they would remain lost in his mind, even if he were to reunite with them.
Such worries were unfounded, however.
Sonora was a city that blended rough life with that of comfort. Back alley deals and criminals easily bled into higher up areas, as the city guard was lackluster with all of the other terrors plaguing the area. Ignis was never surprised to overhear bits and pieces of conversation as he passed along streets here or there on his way to and from his small, dingy apartment. That day was no different, as he paused for a moment to listen in on a conversation about some prison fight from around the corner.
“Yeah, yeah man don’t you worry, I got the footage here that you ordered.” “Finally! The roster at the prison keeps changing, I never know who I’m betting on these days. How many fights are on this?” “Ehhh, six? Seven? I forget, look, I’m just here for the money, okay?” “Alright, fine. Here’s your payment. But hey, give me your honest opinion, I know there’s a scheduled match coming soon. Who’s worth the big bucks?” “Watch the tape and you’ll find out. But keep an eye on the Gladiolus fellow--.”
Ignis audibly gasped, stumbling backwards and losing his balance on the sidewalk, tumbling down to the cement roughly. The two men quickly hushed their conversation, coming out to check on what had caused the ruckus. One of them grumbled, fumbling for something in his coat before the other coughed and nudged Ignis’s sight cane with his foot.
“Apologies,” the blonde breathed, his hands trembling underneath of him, “I must have tripped. I’m sorry for disturbing you.”
The memories were all flooding back in a near instant, it was overwhelming. Gladiolus. Gladio! He could see the man so clearly now, from the scars across his face to the tattoo that covered most of his upper body. Honest brown eyes beneath a tough exterior. A low voice, always pushing them forward, no matter the circumstances. A lifelong friend.
“Just a blind guy,” the man who had accepted the tape sighed. The other man stopped shuffling about in his pocket, snorting ungraciously as he made to leave.
“Well, my work’s done here anyway. I’ll be back for your next order.”
“Wait,” Ignis asked, pulling himself up from the ground. He tapped his cane on the ground a few times, walking forward with one hand out, “I need to ask you--.”
“Lay back down, blind man,” the delivery man grumbled at him, “What we were talkin’ about’s none of your business.”
“That’s just the thing,” Ignis murmured, “It really is.”
He dropped his cane, and in a flash summoned a dagger into his right hand. He darted forward, immediately pinning the man with the footage against the building, the blade pressed against his neck. The man yelped, hands pinning themselves to his sides. The delivery man rushed forward, but Ignis summoned his spear with his left hand, quickly sweeping the man off of his feet before he could come any closer.
“Tell me what you know about Gladiolus. Now.”
---
That was how he found out the bitter truth. Gladio was in prison, but for what crime, the men didn’t seem to know or care. The prison was no normal place, not the typical jail house he’d come to hear about while living in the city. No, Gorgon was something special. Supposedly ruthless in the treatment of their captives as it housed some of the most dangerous men and women on the continent.
A part of Ignis wondered how Gladio could have found himself in such a place, but the thought passed as quickly as it came. If the Prince’s shield had been appropriately threatened and someone attempted to detain him of his duty to find Noctis, there was absolutely no way such a situation would have ended well. Had Gladio been outnumbered? Was he hurt? Well, perhaps not, if he was taking part in some sort of … fights.
People weren’t sent to the prison for petty crime, that much had been made clear to him by the men he’d accosted. No, the people in that prison were there because of something ugly. Something cruel. The prison was hard to find, and impossible to break into, supposedly protected by something other than guards. No, the only way in was to become a captive. He couldn’t become a part of the guard, after all. He was blind. He’d been laughed out of other places for much smaller tasks.
Ignis prayed that morning, but to what or who, he wasn’t sure. He begged for forgiveness. The retainer straightened his meager possessions and left behind a note on his bed for the only friend he’d managed to make in this land. Cissnei knew where he lived, and he didn’t wish for her to worry. Or, worse, to try and find out where he’d gone. Writing was still a difficult task, but using his fingers almost like a protractor helped him to trace the letters he needed. I’ll be back. It was likely awful scrawl, compared to his old handwriting, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
It was time. He’d built himself up for this moment for two days, steeling his nerves, reminding himself that he would do anything to help his friends. The guilt that trickled in at every passing moment was a motivator. The very same emotions that gave him strength threatened to bring a tear to his only functioning eye.
That day, Ignis let his feet carry him to the square closest to his apartment. He could hear people milling about as he waited with his cane and little to nothing else -- choosing to leave what few things he had behind. He straightened his glasses as he waited, finally hearing the click, clack of hard soled shoes on concrete. The ruffle of a uniform, the strict instruction of a local guard. It was his target.
Nothing he would ever do would make up for such a vile act. It was an unforgivable sin.
But, it was the only way.
Ignis approached the man, folding his cane and placing it within his pocket. He heard an alarmed cry as the halberd magically appeared in his hands. It was covered by his own yell, as he rushed forward, weapon expertly poised.
The rest was a blur of screams, of blood, and of pain.
---
The only thing that held him together through such a traumatic experience was the memories that had come back to him.
Ignis was woefully unequipped to find Noctis in this world alone. It was simply too vast, and while he could eventually master being blind, it would take too long. Every day, Noct fell further out of his reach. He needed help. He needed a friend, his friends. He needed them not only for Noctis, but also for himself. He hadn’t felt so alive as he had in that moment, hearing Gladio’s name for the first time in… well, gods only knew how long.
Ignis Scientia was charged with murder in the first degree. He was cuffed and shoved roughly in the back of a transport, keeping quiet despite the orders barked at him. He kept his eyes closed, only opening them to glare into the vast nothingness.
The hours passed with nothing more than torture and humiliation. He was brought through the prison gates, and warned of everything that entailed. No way in or out. No magic. No weapons. He had nothing now. He was nothing now. Every part of the process was somehow more terrible than the last. His pockets were emptied, his glasses plucked from his face. Ridiculed for even wearing them. They forced him to remove his clothes, took notes on his physique before hosing him down in cold, icy water.
The rules were barked at him by a heavily accented man, but most of it flew over Ignis’s head. His mind was spinning, overwhelmed by the sense of loss. He could barely tell where he was. Where anything was. The scents were acrid and putrid, dirty and disgusting. His prison garb was tossed on the floor and he was forced to find it, fingers wrapping around rough cotton as he quickly put it on. It stuck to him and soaked in the water, as he was never given a towel.
Not much else was said. He would have to fend for himself.
Ignis was placed in shackles once more and led through the twists and turns of the prison. It was cold and drafty, sending a shiver down his spine as his wet hair dripped, one, two, drops at a time onto his chilled skin. The floor was concrete and unforgiving, rough and filled with cracks ready to trip him. They took stairs and halls, and with each passing area he heard jeers. What they’d said, he couldn’t quite make out.
Finally, they paused in front of a heavy door. The guard escorting him opened it with the persistent jingle of a key -- rusted, maybe. The door opened, a soft and angry groan, like that of a monster once disturbed. The hand around his arm shoved him forward and Ignis shuffled his chained feet, soft soled shoes quiet against the floor. Now, the jeers and calls and taunts came at him full force. The guard steered him slightly to the right and hands and fingers found themselves wrapped around Ignis’s arm and clothing. He jerked away, an imprint of dirt and grime on his face. The other men hollered obscenities and laughed, they heckled him.
He should have suspected such a thing would happen, but … Ignis was wholly unprepared for what a prison was actually like. Especially one such as this, hidden and cruel. He had no experience with such a thing.
Would he survive long enough to even find Gladio?
The guard stopped him, stooping down to remove the shackles from Ignis’s ankles. He removed the ones from his wrists as well, before shoving a key into the cell closest to them.
“Hey big guy,” the guard snorted as the door loudly slid open, clicking loudly as it reached the end of its rope and began to slowly roll back, “Got some replacement meat for ya.”
Ignis was shoved forward unexpectedly, and he tripped over the entrance of the cell, hitting the edge of a metal bedpost with an unceremoniously unforgiving clank. The guard laughed, quickly closing and locking the cell as the jeers and taunts and yells quieted bit by bit as the footsteps faded behind the big, rusted door.
Cursing the names of gods he was sure to forget as this brain damage healed, Ignis brought his hand up to his forehead, rubbing the already aching wound. With his free hand he felt around the empty air, trying hard not to concentrate on the overwhelming scent of dirt, sweat, and other bodily fluids that drifted through the bars.
Oh, by the gods, there was another person in the cell with him! Ignis pulled himself closer to the iron bar of the bunk beds, glaring toward the (surely) empty space ahead of him. He hadn’t heard much movement. Perhaps the individual had little to no interest in his newest cell mate. That would be the first, and only, positive in an otherwise traumatic day.
“I think you may be the only person who hasn’t heckled me today,” Ignis muttered quietly, remembering what the guard has referred to his cell mate as, “”Big Guy””.
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.
Cissnei offered her arm, and Ignis accepted her help. It would have been rude otherwise, and he would have moved much slower on his own. With the chill of the wind, he preferred not having to spend any more time outside than necessary. She offered to keep an eye out for places of interest to him, and the blonde issued her a polite thanks. The chill threatened to creep through his coat as they walked along, but such a feeling was quickly lost to him.
No, walking required an immense concentration. He needed to process the sounds of the city, their closeness, discerning every little tick. Ignis could hear the roar and buzz of motors as they passed on the streets, he could smell their acrid smoke. His sight cane tapped along the path, finding cracks in the cement and other alignment issues that could cause a stumble. There weren’t too many other people around them, but those that were spoke in interesting accents occasionally, and mentioned places he’d never heard of before.
Cissnei’s presence at his side was a welcome warmth. She spoke about her habit of frequenting a bar after work with her friends as if it were one of the key memories of her heart. Ignis smiled, a brief, fleeting memory of a familiar feeling -- though, he did not see a bar in his vision, but a campfire.
“It sounds like a lovely habit,” the retainer informed her, nudging something out of Cissnei’s path with his sight cane as he continued his movements, “To be surrounded by one’s closest companions and unwind.”
“What brings you to Sonora? I know it wasn’t me.”
Ignis chuckled. Well, it was quite obvious that he hadn’t come here simply to see her again, since he didn’t realize she was around until a few hours prior. Fate was a strange thing, wasn’t it?
“I heard about Sonora through my travels,” Ignis revealed to Cissnei, squeezing the hand warmer in his pocket tightly as they walked along, “It sounded … familiar. A city built much more like the one that I come from. I simply thought, perhaps, Noctis would potentially come here as well. He is a creature of comfort.”
Of course, he hadn’t anticipated quite the size of Sonora. It was grand, and its streets confusing and often shady. Back in the Crown City, Ignis had never had any need to venture into the slums, into the back alleys or shiftier areas. He primarily stuck to the Citadel and surrounding areas, wherever Prince Noctis would be. He wasn’t ignorant of them, though. Every city had its more blessed areas and poorer, harder infrastructure. People flocked to the city for a better life, but building one was simply harder than it seemed.
As they passed buildings, Cissnei helpfully identified them for him. A grocery here, a bookstore there. This little slice of the city was quite quaint, wasn’t it? The cafe was a mere couple of blocks away, and they were headed toward a bar, were they not? Perhaps, as he familiarized himself with the city, Ignis could use the area as more of a base. A place to start every day, and begin mentally mapping the world out from there.
They paused in front of a door, and Cissnei helpfully opened it. Ignis thanked her, stepping quickly into the welcoming heat. He felt the shiver roll up his spine as his skin soaked in the warmth, his face flushing from the wind outside. The soft sounds of twinkling piano keys rolled through the air pleasantly, giving the room a sophisticated, cozy feeling. He tapped at the ground, finding solid tile. It seemed Cissnei had good taste in venues.
“Ah, the bar would be lovely,” Ignis instructed with a smile, feeling out the area as well as he could, “I’ll be close enough to admire the smells of the spirits. I’ve a lot of respect for the art of crafting cocktails, even though I prefer wine.”
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.
The harsh patter of rain outside chilled Ignis without even really experiencing it. He’d been in Sonora long enough to have gotten caught once or twice in the frigid drizzle, gasping as it nearly took his breath away. The feeling of an icy rain brought about an unpleasant, albeit foggy memory for him. The downpour put a damper on his spirit, and laced him with thoughts of failure. Why, he feared he would never know.
The door opened with a gentle chime, betraying the harshness of the world outside. The sound of the downpour quickly became muffled once more as the door closed behind the newest customer, who was clearly soaked to the bone. While he couldn’t see the person, Ignis could easily imagine a soaked cat -- flustered and grumpy, its fur sodden with water. The person walked forward, wet, leather boots threatening to squeak against the tile. There were a few steady drips of varying pitches, falling from different parts of the person’s garment.
Ignis attempted to offer the customer a warm smile, knowing well that nothing he could offer would permanently clear the cold from their body. He set his mug of coffee on the counter, straightening up as the man greeted him -- his voice quiet, a little rough around the edge.
A coffee and a scone. Something warm, sweet, and dense.
The baker shook his head and gave the man a casual wave of the hand, “It’s on the house. Considering the unfortunate situation that brought you here, I feel as though it's the least I can offer.”
Ignis gestured the man to the bar seating just to his right, before turning around to grab a mug and pour a fresh cup of steaming, warm coffee for the poor, sodden fellow. Even the subtle aroma of the house blend would, hopefully, give the man some warmth for his soul. The blonde placed the cup of coffee on the bar, before turning to grab a scone from the case.
“I wish I had known how common these icy downpours are in the city,” Ignis mused as he reached for the bakery case, only fumbling once before opening it and grabbing a pair of fresh tongs, “I would have invested in an umbrella already.”
Instead of placing the scone on a plate, Ignis turned and used the tongs to put the treat into the nearby warmer. As tasty as a scone was without being warmed up first, if it were him dripping on the other side of the counter, he knew he would appreciate the gesture.
“A few moments for the scone, then,” Ignis turned back to the bar with a smile, “If you don’t mind, sir.”
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.
Living in a city as large as Sonora had its ups and downs, for a man who could no longer see. On the upside, it was easy to find himself a cozy little nook to call his temporary home, he was able to absorb much more information about the world and expand his search for Noctis, and work was aplenty. After showing off what he was capable of to Cissnei at her cafe, the royal retainer realized he could put his baking and cooking skills to use elsewhere. A traveling, blind chef, as it were. He’d made connections well enough in the area he was staying in, offering to come in and help where he could.
Most people weren’t heartless enough to turn away a blind man, and not for the first time, Ignis knew he would have to take advantage of what his condition twisted in the hearts of others.
However, being surrounded by so many people, noises, smells and twists and turns was … difficult. Learning the paths through the city was taking much more time than a smaller town would, and there were very few resources for the disabled. Neglected sidewalks led to the occasional trip and tumble, snow tended to fall here and there, heavy and other times light, deafening the world around him and making it more difficult to “see”.
He had to hold out hope that Noctis would come to Sonora. It was the most similar to Insomnia that Iggy had found in his travels, and with limited resources and no other friends to lean on … It was better to stay in one place and get the word out, rather than try and travel again. He was making a name for himself in the cold, harsh city. If only he could push it further.
Ignis dried his hands on a towel sticking out of his apron pocket, before removing the garment entirely and finding the nearby hook to hang it up. It was early, likely around 8am or so, but baking required a much earlier start. He’d come down to Zapp’s cafe four hours earlier, prepping dough and frying donuts, baking scones and making cookies. The taste of his treats and the neatness of his handiwork hadn’t been lost on the owner, who’d been more than happy to have an extra set of hands so the older man could sleep in a bit.
Grabbing his sight cane, Ignis Scientia departed the kitchen, barely giving a tap here or there to the trail he knew well by now. He patted down his purple button-up, assuming it to be mostly presentable and flour-free. Grabbing a nearby mug, the blonde filled it with coffee from behind the counter, taking one small, daring sip. It was no ebony, but it would do.
A noise, out of place, began to catch his attention. What started as one drip quickly multiplied, two three four -- until it was pouring.
Oh, blazes. It was pouring rain outside! Ignis huffed at the window, annoyed with the sudden onset of ugly weather. He knew from experience that such a rain was icy and cold, and would soak a man to the bone in mere moments. It teetered on the edge of becoming snow or ice, threatening anyone caught unawares a terrible time. So much for heading out for the day. The few customers muttered something along the same lines, shuffling back to their newspapers.
Ignis sighed, and leaned back against the counter, sipping quietly at his coffee. Well, at least anyone who darted into the cafe could be brought back to an acceptable warmth with a decent cup of joe.
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.
Cissnei seemed caught off guard by his offer that she change clothes, likely just caught up in the idea of rushing out as quickly as possible -- or so he assumed. However, she agreed and her footsteps quickly clipped out of sight, one step at a time. Ignis took the moment of silence to readjust his coat and pat it flat, making sure not a single potential thread was out of place. It bothered him, ridiculous as it was, that he couldn’t see to check that he appeared as proper as he wished. The coat was comfortable, and for that he should be simply thankful.
It was difficult, letting such a small, vain part of him go. In the end, his blindness meant nothing for his overall goal. He could still serve Noctis, one way or the other.
His guest reappeared, her steps quieter on the ground than they had been earlier. Though he couldn’t see the outfit she’d been wearing before, Ignis couldn’t imagine that it would deal well with the cold. While Cissnei snuffed out the fire, he took a few steps closer to the front door, tapping the ground to ensure there were no obstacles in his way. Ah, good, he’d remembered the path through the cafe clearly. Cissnei joined him, and together they left the warmth of the cafe to the cold, bitter winds waiting just outside of the door.
“Are you warm enough?”
“I believe so, yes,” the blonde offered his friend a courteous and warm smile that betrayed how the cold was already beginning to creep around his ankles. Of course, walking about in the bitter weather for a long period of time wouldn’t do him well, but a brisk walk not far wouldn’t do any harm. He wondered how other people lived in such conditions for the entirety of their lives. It was natural for them, sure, but he certainly preferred a more temperate climate.
Cisseni offered him a hand warmer, pressing the warm, comforting packet into Ignis’s free hand. “Thank you,” he nodded to her, slipping it into the pocket on his left side. When his right hand became too cold, he could switch which hand he was holding the sight cane in.
“Would you like me to assist you?” Ignis smiled at the offer, and though his gut reaction was too turn down the offered help, he resisted.
“A guiding hand now and then would be helpful, yes. I’m not familiar with the city yet, so I’ve no idea which road is which yet,” the blonde explained, readjusting his glasses, “I do insist on feeling out the paths, though.”
He gestured with his sight cane, thankfully swatting nothing but air as he did so, “I typically don’t drink much other than coffee, but I do enjoy wine and spirits from time to time. If you’d like to lead the 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.
“I’m sorry about that. You asked for a moment of my time, and I made you wait all day.” The young woman’s voice was burdened with self-shaming, the apology as solid as the biscuit she’d nearly killed him with, “I should have just said I will catch up with you later. I hope you didn’t keep you from anything.”
“You have no reason to apologize,” Ignis insisted, his arms near elbow deep in warm, soapy water, “I am the one who barged into your place of work, demanding your time.”
No matter how much he insisted things were fine, though, Scientia had a feeling Cissnei wouldn’t take it to heart. After baking up a fresh, soft batch of biscuits to go along with her fresh strawberries, Ignis had insisted on cleaning up his part of the mess. However, as Cissnei dropped off a few other dishes next to the sink, he certainly didn’t mind grabbing them and scrubbing them clean as well. Cleaning was cathartic, something to keep his hands busy, helping him to focus his disorderly thoughts. He truly didn’t mind the chore at all. The blonde was careful to pin his white sleeves up above his elbows, keeping them clean and dry. It wouldn’t do, to go back out into the cold weather with wet sleeves.
“And now you’re helping me clean,” Cissnei was huffing in frustration, which brought an amused smile to Ignis’s lips, “And all I’ve done was subject you to the horror of my snacks and entertain another guest.”
“All things I’m more than happy to do, I assure you,” Ignis reminded her as he set the last dish he’d been working on on the drying rack. He dried his arms off with a dry cloth hanging off of his belt, listening to Cissnei shuffle the restaurant around. More dishes were set by the sink (they’ll have to wait for later), and the linens were placed into what sounded like a dirty hamper. Iggy followed Cissnei’s movements, remembering hearing her place silverware on a table before, “Please, allow me to roll some of this silverware for you.”
A gentle hand guided Ignis to the table where the silverware was spread. He felt for each particular utensil, memorizing their positions before expertly folding and rolling them into the cloth napkin. To run such a refined eatery on her own … Cissnei was certainly one remarkable young woman. Her efficient dedication to everything she put her mind to, whether it was helping a blind stranger or working a small cafe, brought some warmth and joy to his otherwise confused and empty life. It would be silly to call them kindred souls -- he honestly didn’t know much about her personally -- yet he couldn’t help the feeling.
“At least let me treat you to a drink somewhere?”
Ignis smiled patiently and gave her a quick nod, “Of course. I feel you won’t let me escape without repaying me, even if I declined.”
Finishing the last of the silverware, Iggy pulled his sight rod from his pocket, extending it so that he could retrace his steps through the cafe as Cissnei finished up. He was pleased to notice he recalled the location of his table and the nearby coat rack, grabbing his jacket and buttoning it up around him, lest the cold chill him during their walk. He readjusted his darkened glasses, carefully stepping around the clean room.
“Would you like to get changed beforehand?” He offered, hoping to ease her into something more comfortable than her cafe uniform for the rest of their evening, “As I’ve said before; I don’t mind waiting. You’ve been working hard all day, and I insist you be at your most comfortable while we chat.”
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.
