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chauffeuring) wrote2019-02-01 05:40 am
chauffeuring) wrote2019-02-01 05:40 am
ic inbox for the pines
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feb 8th, morning, note on kitchen table
Remembered something today.
Either I'm going nuts or it's your birthday.
So that's a thing I guess.
Be back around 5.
You should be here❰ that last bit's mostly illegible. ❱
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Ignis isn't sure if he's flattered his roomie remembered that or not. Gladio has something up his sleeve and Ignis takes that thought to work with him, actually declining the offer of overtime to get back for 5pm. He's not excited, not at all, simply curious to know what's going on.
It's 16:59pm when Ignis gets back to his house and for now he lounges in the kitchen, brewing himself a coffee and trying not to be too suspicious. There's been weird things going on recently and he hopes this doesn't wind up on that list too.]
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Hey, ❰ he offers as he ducks into the kitchen, setting what looks like two grocery bags on the counter, then a third that appears to be lying on its side with the opening folded and stapled up over the top. that one he opens, pulling out a flat container with a plastic protective dome. the bag's discarded on the floor to make room on the counter (he'll pick it up, relax), and he pops open the plastic to set it aside.
it's a cake. white with a hint of yellow, clearly homemade (well. baker-made, as opposed to mass produced) and smelling distinctly of lemon. no writing or candles, but he feels like iggy would prefer it this way, anyway.
and now, finally, he glances up at ignis. partly to get a read on his reaction, but also to say: ❱ Happy birthday, Ig. I think, anyway. ❰ a beat, then he offers: ❱ I can get you a fork?
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despite gladio's thoughts on picking the back up, ignis can't help but lean down to do it instead, running on automatic when it comes to decluttering the kitchen. at least he doesn't give his roomie any kind of grief over it as he places the bag out of the way and pausing when he sees what's being offered.]
Is that — [ ignis pauses in what he's saying, leaning in a little closer to get a good look. the cake is just the perfect shade of white and he can already smell the lemon from where he's standing. gladio is getting a reaction alright, ignis is almost lost for words when he realizes what exactly is going on and there's a few seconds of silence before he clears his throat and adjusts his glasses.] It looks like a very good lemon cake. Make it two forks, please.
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fortunately, the unofficial lateness seems largely forgiven thanks to the cake he's brought with him. in fact, words seem to escape ignis altogether, which is probably a first in his recollection and he's definitely going to count it as positive.
but then he's recomposing, with the glasses-push and the clearing of his throat, and that's much more familiar. happens every time gladio catches him off guard, and that solidifies his notion that this surprise was a good one. he'd figured it would be, but something about ignis and his complexities always gives gladio room to second-guess.
'make it two forks, please.' gladio can't help but grin. ❱
Not gonna say no to that. ❰ as he steps over to open a drawer and nab a couple of forks. ❱
like the 5th, night (your ic inbox is gonna be like 90% me)
or maybe it's just the silence.
it's too quiet. way too quiet. he's brainstormed a little, cycled through options like fans and white noise machines and what it really comes back to is the fact that he's honestly not gonna be at ease falling asleep alone.
he slips into ignis's room tonight without knocking. iggy's not asleep, it's obvious just from the way he breathes, so he reaches out a hand to tap at the man's shoulder in a half-assed shooing motion. ❱
Scoot over, ❰ he murmurs. ❱
(like that's a bad thing)
the sound of his door opening catches his attention and ignis peers over at the hand on his shoulder, not bothering to reach out for his glasses. seemed like gladiolus couldn't sleep either. he should be telling the other to bugger off back to his own room but ignis finds himself scooting over to make space with only minimal fussing instead.]
Try not to hog all the covers.
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he doesn't plan to explain. he doesn't plan to say anything at all, really. in fact, if ignis doesn't ask, gladio's breathing is gonna slow down to a very sleeplike cadence within a couple of short minutes. ❱
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really he should be asking gladio what's bothering him enough to be crawling into ignis's bed, to query if he's got the feeling that something isn't quite right recently. but between the way the bed dips under gladio's weight and the warmth from the other, ignis lets himself slowly drowse instead, not at all sleeping but for now it'll do.]
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looks like iggy's stuck. ❱
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after an hour or so ignis finally gives up, shifting to nudge gladio in the side with one elbow. he waits until the other is only just surfacing from his sleep before asking something.] Gladio. Do you know anything about a citadel?
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and then comes the question, like a bucket of cold water that lingers, chilly, around his spine. a citadel. citadel.
the citadel.
something about it resonates, like a gong that makes no sound but instead sends a shudder through your very soul. there are flashes of - of what? of nothing. of shit that doesn't make sense in the slightest, like something he saw in a dream.
the silence is too long, but gladio's too still to pass for asleep. he's not sure if he's remembered to breathe these last few seconds but he's breathing now, careful and deliberate. as if he's ever been careful and deliberate in his whole goddamn life. ❱
I-... ❰ his throat's too dry - the word comes out scratchy, even so quiet.
after a second, he scowls against ignis's back. ❱ What are you talking about? ❰ why now? why that word? something's fucking strange and gladio doesn't know entirely how to reconcile it. ❱
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the silence lets ignis know that the word means something to gladio too and for the first time in a good while there's a sense of relief, a reassurance that he's not going completely insane with intrusive thoughts on occasion. certainly it meant that something strange was going on, but with gladio in on it too, ignis knows that it won't be as much of a nightmare as it could have been.]
A citadel. The citadel, Gladio. [ ignis speaks quietly, sounding exasperated as if explaining it to someone who should know better. he makes no move to get gladio off of his back; despite what's going on, gladio is still a comforting weight.] You know it, don't you?
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it scares the shit out of him.
but still he nods a silent affirmative, one ignis can no doubt feel. ❱ I think-... ❰ his voice is already hushed, but he swallows hard and drops it down to barely more than a whisper. ❱ All those signs. ❰ the 'official notices', or whatever they're called. the ones in every building. the ones that say not to talk about 'before'. this has to be what they're talking about, doesn't it? the fact that there are bylaws, actual protocols for this - it makes it all feel so much more real, and makes gladio feel so much more impotent for his inability to remember. ❱
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They mean something. [ the silent warning of sorts is heard clear as day. if these memories, for lack of better word, weren't real then there would be no reason for signs to warn again 'before'. now thinking on it, a whole slew of new problems makes themselves known. if the memories were real, then what did that make this town? and worse still, what would happen if they disregarded them?] I don't think anything leaves this room.
early on the morning of march 22nd, either a call or voicemail o/
call is fine
You're both unwell? [ Normally wouldn't be an issue, but now he thinks about it, the restaurant was quieter than normal last rush hour.] I'll be over in a few hours with some soup, then.
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[ ignis pauses, head tilted to one side as he mulls something over.] I'm making the soup regardless. Do you need anything else bringing over or picking up when I'm on my way?
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