childrenofbahamutlogs | [winter catch all] Ignis

Ignis has, quite frankly, had a rather terrible start to a week. He is actually exhausted, after the events of a few days ago, when his wings decided to come out in a... none-too-gentle fashion. Ignis has stubbornly made himself continue with what daily tasks he can make, but, well. Some of his boyfriends are fussing. So he can't brute force normality as he would prefer.

Still. He would like a bit of something more pleasant. Something to just... be a little less miserable. And it is when he is looking out into the dark of the town one night, taking in the season, that it hits him.

Who he's really looking for is Elidibus, when he comes across the small grouping of houses which belong to the Ancients. However, well...

"I suppose Elidibus isn't here either," he murmurs to himself, frowning a bit at the house. A pity. He will have to keep looking. He doesn't know any of the others to really know how they would take to his idea, or, really more importantly, where he would find them.

...This matter will be solved shortly.

For all that there is, undeniably, vastly less for him to occupy his time with than there would have been on his own world, Lahabrea has still been making an effort to spend some time out of the house he resides in. Admittedly, some of it does involve making his way out to the assorted fishing holes the voice in his head keeps insisting he do. But even he is well aware of the fact that many of the fish themselves are not likely to be biting even should he make a genuine attempt.

Still, by luck or by chance, he happens across Ignis just in time to overhear the comment about Elidibus.

"He is not. Had you need of him?"

Lahabrea is not Elidibus' keeper, of course. Nor would he wish to be. But he is curious enough, and unaware that the mask that hangs at his chest might mark him as a suitable replacement, in Elidibus' absence.

Ignis glances up at the inquiry, adjusting the heavy fur cloak wrapped around most of his body and turning it near shapeless. It can't be helped. Not only is the cold seeming to make him feel sluggish, but his wings are particularly sensitive in this sort of weather... and he doesn't have quite enough control over them just yet to fold them neatly so that he can retain even a meager amount of warmth.

"Perhaps not a need, but I was curious if there was something within the realm of his capabilities. As I understand it, he is an extremely talented individual with mastery over a great deal of subjects."

This is also, Ignis knows, putting it rather lightly.

"In particular, I was hoping to inquire on a particular sort of magic... While I understand all members of the Convocation are skilled, I hadn't wished to intrude on those I haven't made proper introductions with." One clawed hand, green scales shimmering even for gloomy winter days, slips out past the cloak to rest against his chest politely. "I am Ignis Scientia. It is a pleasure to meet you."

"You understand correctly."

That much, at least, Lahabrea is perfectly willing to acknowledge, and the nod that accompanies his answer only serves to further show off the pair of horns that are growing in at his hairline. And the only outward suggestion that he is in any way turning into a dragon, though presumably he does have scales somewhere under his robes.

Still, he passes no judgment on either what Ignis has chosen to wear nor the clawed hand that comes to rest against his chest.

"I am Lahabrea." There are no pleasantries that follow, save for another brief nod. "What is the nature of the magic you had mean to ask of?"

He is no Elidibus, it is true. But he is yet more than skilled in magic besides - if not more so, within his particular area of focus.

"A magic that could create light, simply put." He has no idea how complex or simple that might be, for these particular individuals. After all, magic as they know it is absolutely incomprehensible to him from a world where magic is restricted to royalty and deities.

Even if he, or Gladio, or Prompto can all use magic, it is primarily because Noct can put it into forms that allow them to use it.

"To be more specific, I was wondering if there would be a way to use such magic to put lights as decoration for the beginning of winter. It is part of a holiday in my homeland when the months have longer nights, and I thought that perhaps it would be of use here."

"The creation of light is simple enough."

It is, perhaps, not a spell Lahabrea has commonly thought to turn to. But that hardly means that it's difficult. Merely that it is not often something he has cause to turn to.

Nor, for that matter, is he entirely unfamiliar with celebrations during the parts of the year where the nights grow longer. The solstice celebrations he knows might well be nothing at all like the celebrations with which Ignis is familiar, but the idea of light to balance out the darkness is one he understands well enough. A reminder of that which was and will be again, as the seasons turn.

"Nor would it be particularly difficult to create a more lasting enchantment of the sort you have described."

A pause.

"Though had you any specific wish as to how they should appear, I will listen."

He cannot, after all, be certain that the nature of the lights he knows and the ones Ignis has in mind are similar.

Ignis is always very careful to keep his expectations low. Other people can be terribly unpredictable, after all, and there's no point in getting disappointed when there's not even a promise of something. Besides, people can often tell when expectations are being pushed on them. Sometimes it's subconscious but they can tell. Best to stay reserved and realistic.

It sounds like a rather dull way to live, but the upside is that when those low expectations are exceeded, it's delightful.

Just the show of interest in a request is enough to rouse him, a bit of light sparking in his own eyes. (Metaphorical. They aren't glowing, not for him.) "I appreciate your generosity. In truth, my own culture tends to favor paler lights in small clusters. A representative of the little actions which light up our existence." Or, at least, that was what he was told as a child, and he always rather liked the idea. Of each small decision contributing to a path of light.

"With that in mind, having them decorated about the town center is what I was thinking of in particular... Would it be much trouble if I were to accompany you to see how you create these lights?" His hand moves away from holding his cloak shut tight, and one claw points towards his temple.

"The individual who is accompanying me has said that there is magic here as well which could craft such effects into existence, but I have not been able to weave such thingss into reality myself." So perhaps learning other magics would prove enlightening.

Not to mention he's simply just curious.

There's a brief shrug at the acknowledge of his generosity. Not enough to suggest that he isn't - or can't be - but enough to suggest that he doesn't feel his gesture particularly warrants it. That or he's inclined to downplay his effort, and at this point it might be hard to tell which it is.

"The spell is simple enough, and even maintaining it for some time will not be much of a drain. Less so if it is wrought into something nearer an enchantment on whatever is to bear them."

Still, there's a nod at the explanation of the lights.

"Paler lights are likewise common in my own experiment, though less so in clusters. Still, I see no reason these cannot appear in such a manner. Both will serve to mark the season."

And neither is likely to be more difficult to arrange, either.

"Nor would it be any trouble for you to accompany me. The spell itself will require some amount of focus, but beyond that there is nothing that would require I do so alone."

Ignis takes in the brief explanation of the spell - or at least how it functions. It's good information to have, knowing what will make a spell last longer or be less of a bother, both as someone who is hoping to figure out spells for himself and for the more immediate matter at hand.

"Thank you. Then, shall we go, since you have no pressing matters at hand?" It may be a little tricky since it is daylight still, so not the best time for viewing small lights, but it will be a good time to at least see where they are going and what they are doing.

Fortunately, perhaps, Lahabrea is more than willing to discuss the finer points of how spells happen to work. It may not be something he is going to turn to just at the moment, given that there are yet lights to manage. But in general he has never much minded discussing such things and there will no doubt be time after he has finished with his spell.

As such there is simply a nod at the question.

"I presume you had wished for them to be in the nearest there is to the center of town?"

Lahabrea is already starting to head in that direction, but not so quickly that he wouldn't be willing to start elsewhere instead.

"Yes. It would be a pity to simply keep the isolated. The entire purpose of things such as these are to be shared with the community, after all." He's not so heartless or selfish as to want to do otherwise. It might be a nice bonus, but that's it.

So Ignis follows along, content to keep conversation minimal if Lahabrea shows no interest in it, and simply points along to some of the areas that he thinks would make fine places to place the lights. He certainly keeps in mind what Lahabrea said before, about them doing better with something to attach themselves to in these estimations.

That's all, before he lets Lahabrea get to his work, watching in clear curiosity.

There's a nod at the answer, but other than that, Lahabrea seems to be largely disinclined to casual conversation. Should Ignis have any further questions he does his best to answer them, but otherwise he is content to simply fall silent until they arrive at their destination.

"A moment."

It is, perhaps, the first thing he has said for a while, as his eyes take in the available places lights may be put. He knows what to expect out of the center of town the same as anyone else who has lived in Town for even some small amount of time. But it is one thing to be familiar with it and quite another to actually look for suitable places for the manner of spellwork he means to use.

A moment later, he begins. As far as spells go, it is not particularly flashy either - as he has said, the creation of light is indeed a simple spell. There are a few brief gestures as he defines the spell and holds in mind that which he wishes it to do, and then the feel of rising aether before all at once little clusters of pale lights begin to bloom across trees and buildings.

Ignis of course is somewhat more familiar with the concept of magic than the average person in Lucis would be. While it is something generally restricted to two very important bloodlines, with the connections of the Oracle and the weight of the crown, well... That is all the more reason why he should be aware of it as Noctis's retainer.

Yet thanks to the abilities which come with the crown, that means being more aware of what bits of magic can be shared... Simple in comparison to what he's come to learn about, and yet the simple pure force of fire in one's hand is still impressive in its own right.

From the little bit he's managed to see of it... It's just as quiet and unassuming an effort as what Lahabrea demonstrates right now. No words, just a gesture or so, and then..

Lights.

There's an eager sort of bubbling in his chest, and it's actually hard for him to tell if it's purely from him or if some of Sveargith's own curiosity pressing in against him. "It appears quite simple," Ignis says, still quiet and calm as he has been for the entire walk here. "May I ask about how the process works?"

With the spell finished (at least on his end; the lights continue to bloom across the available surfaces for a bit longer), Lahabrea is more than willing to turn instead to the discussion of how the magic works. Not for nothing has he spent much of his time in the halls of Akadaemia Anyder, after all. To say nothing of the fact that he has spent so much of his life focusing on the ins and outs of magic.

(Creation magic, mostly, true. But that makes him no less qualified to speak on any other sort of magic.)

"You may."

There's a nod with the answer, before Lahabrea gets on to the actual explanation.

"All magic is born of aether - an energy that exists in abundance both in my own world and within all living beings. It is through concentration and focus that aether is than shaped into whatever one should wish. A simple spell, such as a simple elemental spell, or that which has created these lights takes but a small amount of aether. A larger spell, such as that required to shape furniture would require both more focus and a greater quantity of aether."

A pause, and then he continues.

"However, as this world is not as replete with aether as my own, I am limited to that which resides within my own body."

Which is no small amount, not that he says as much.

Ignis is at least a good student. He listens with clear full concentration, hands still where they fold over one another to only keep his cloak in place, and nods when Lahabrea is finished.

"I see... I imagine then that different creatures, much like different worlds, also possess different concentrations of aether." So what may be trivial for Lahabrea may not be so for another person. Ignis is thinking of himself, of course, but he has to admit it could be anyone. Even the Lucis royal lineage doesn't quite make magic out of nothing. All the energy drawn out from elemental deposits comes from them, and is simply placed into something convenient for later use.

Although he does wonder about their warping and the Armiger....

"Is the process behind a simple spell and a larger one similar, or are there distinct differences?"

"That is correct. Even on my own star, the amount of aether present within any living being varies, and there is no guarantee that every being will be capable of harnessing that aether to any meaningful degree."

Some can, certainly. But not all of them, by a long shot. Admittedly the fact that most creatures are something that has been deliberately created does play a role in that but that's normal enough to Lahabrea that he doesn't see any particular reason to mention it.

"The basic requirements are the same. All spells require concentration and aether. More involved ones may either require longer periods of focus, or have specific gestures that are necessary to call the invocation into being. Some may require both."

"I see... I had hoped that there could be a way to see how much aether I might possess myself, yet it seems as though the chances are unlikely I would be able to do anything with it." Either because of the amount or what his body is capable of.

Oh well. He'll find other ways to manage or look for other avenues in magic. "I thank you for the explanation alongside the lights. They really do look lovely." And he imagines they will look even better when it becomes darker. "May I treat you to tea, or a meal? As thanks."

"It would not be impossible to learn, should you wish. However, Hythlodaeus or Emet-Selch would be better suited to judging how much you possess. My sight is not so keen as theirs."

He is more than willing to teach, certainly. But he is not the best judge of how much aether any one person should happen to possess. Still, neither does he dwell on the idea overmuch. Should Ignis wish to follow up on the suggestion he is free to do so, and if not it matters little enough to Lahabrea.

Instead there's a nod at the question.

"I would accept tea, should you wish to offer."

Their sight is better... Distantly, Ignis recalls how one of the bakers - Mithrun - had been quite upset when told of their particular situation and how dragon souls were bound to theirs. Indeed, Emet-Selch had been the one to step forward to speak with him about something. And if he recalls some posts on the network...

"I suppose it is worth inquiring about if they have the capability," he affirms. "Still, for now, I believe the bakery should have access to some lovely tea..."

Which is where he'll take Lahabrea. If nothing else, Ignis can appreciate someone else so committed to his place in life like the local baker is.

"They should."

Getting Emet-Selch to agree to do so is a task Lahabrea will leave in Ignis' hands, but that he doesn't mention. He is not the one who wishes to know, and though he is capable of seeing aether to an extent, his skills are not sufficient to tell what sort of capability one might have. Not if he wants to have any degree of accuracy.

Still, he turns his attention instead to the bakery and the promise of tea besides. There will be time to continue discussing aether and the possibility thereof later. For now, he has earned at least a brief moment of relaxation and conversation that is at least less immediately aimed at celebrating the end of the year.

Edited 2025-01-23 03:21 (UTC)

Frankly speaking, it is perhaps debatable if Ignis should be as active as he is, with his month already starting out like it is. His wings are no longer a source of excruciating pain, but even he has to admit that he is a bit exhausted from the whole ordeal. There are still some residue aches, especially with how cold it all is now. He needs to clumsily learn how to stretch a new set of limbs, although there is, admittedly, a voice in his head willing to help him with that.

Probably, he should take it easy.

Ignis does not take it easy.

A part of this is just because he thinks it's wholly unnecessary. Another part of it is because he does honestly feel better moving up and about, after eating quite a bit of food to make up for the entire transformation. Not doing anything is enough to have him going stir-crazy.

Cooking, at least, he is allowed to be trusted with for the most part... and for that, he invites Absinthe over, on a good day for both of them, where the weather doesn't seem completely atrocious.

...Although, granted, when he opens the door, it's still with a heavy furred cloak of sorts draped across his shoulders and over his back. Even with that, however, it's clear to see that the scales which were (and still are) on his hands have now graduated to crawling up his throat, and horns are making rapid growth from over his brow and then behind his temples.

"I'm glad you could make it. We have the hearth going quite hot, so, please, come inside." Also for his benefit. Please.

“Ah, ith kind of a shit month, ain't it?” Absinthe quips as she steps into the house, unwrapping her cloak (one thinner than Ignis’) and either folding it over her hands or hanging it on a coatstand should there be one. She says nothing about Ignis’ changing appearance; they're all going through it these days, after all. Though her own smattering of red scales fades easily into her naturally red skin, her pupils have changed into something more catlike, slitted against the bright snow outside. No wings, for now.

“Ith it… are your knife skills sthill good?” Absinthe pulls down her scarf to speak clearer, revealing a blotchy split lip from newly lengthened fangs. Her hands are gloved, but claws are beginning to poke holes through the fabric at her fingertips. “I'm kind of weird with my nails, actually. My dragon said this could take a few monthst more, can you believe it?”

Fortunately, due to Gladio and Ignis's combined sensibilities both, there is indeed something near the door to hang up outerwear. Quite a number of such things, too, with some still in their places... It can't be helped for a place with so many people living in it. Ignis waits patiently for her to hang up her cloak before taking her to the area designated as the kitchen.

It's honestly not its own separate kitchen, frankly. Combined with the actual cooking area at one end of it all, and then the dinning area on the entire other side, the separation straight through the middle consists mostly from a large roaring fireplace and the almost equally large couch set across from it. Although Ignis thinks it could be larger, but, well... He has the advantage of being from a more modern society with all sorts of ridiculous furniture to thank for that.

"I actually did find cutting with claws to be somewhat difficult... Although if they are properly maintained and kept clean, then claws actually have their own uses in the kitchen as well." In his opinion, anyway. Now that they're nearer to the fireplace, he starts to undo his own cloak.

"I can teach you some tricks for use in the kitchen, to work around the difficulty of claws." With that said and cloak undone, he hangs it up near to the fireplace - obviously not close enough to ignite but certainly to soak up the warmth of it. That reveals his own open-backed shirt, made to accomadate the small pair of spotted green wings that are there. They're not fully grown by any means, and certainly couldn't carry him in flight... but they are properly shaped as they should be.

“Yeah, you know. Grip's different on the knife. Though, I haven't really looked into using my claws themselves… I dunno if I want knives on my hands all the time, not to mention the upkeep.” She's actually been trying to blunt her new nails so she stops ripping her blankets and towels and curtains; but they don't stay filed down for very long, as she continues to change day by day.

“Well, whatever you wanna do, I'm up for it,” she offers as she follows Ignis to the kitchen, noting with appreciation how well-kept the house is. It's pretty nice to her, her fireplace ain't this clean and cozy!

By way of making small-talk, she adds, “how’re you feeling about turning into a dragon? When my natural horns first grew out, I was kind of weird about it, but my uncles tried to be supportive about it so it was okay. Horns are pretty cool actually.”

"I think I could do without," Ignis says matter of factly, no beating around the bush.

Still... He knows this isn't anything to be snappish at her about. This is just... the unfortunate situation that all of them are stuck in. So, with just a brief quiet sigh, he heads over to the counters while continuing to talk. "I would have rather we had more time, and a better idea of the exact changes. Not to mention all of this happening while right as winter is starting.. It has made things something of a struggle."

All very practical reasons to be bothered and upset! And with no indication of his own dysphoria about his body changing outside of his control.

They don't need to talk about that.

What they should be talking about instead? Cooking! "Has the soul attached to you begun speaking yet?" he asks, setting out a pair of knives. "Mine was quiet for quite some time, but, since my wings have grown out at least this much, he's been a little more helpful. Apparently, he knows more than a little about cooking in various states, and so he has offered some advice for handling things with claws."

Granted, that dragon has also said it would be easier if they could shift forms already, but that isn't what they get for now, so.

"Show me how you would usually try to hold a knife with your claws coming in like this."

“It is a bitch of a situation,” Absinthe agrees with a sigh. “On the plus side, well, since complaining about it doesn’t change anything, fire breathing’s pretty cool. Yeah, my dragon patron’s started whispering in my mind and stuff!”

She’s not too fussed to play the mom friend, so Ignis giving a response, and sounding alive and not horribly depressed about it, satisfies her just fine. “Yours is a chef? Mine fights and stuff- at least the dragon patrons have something in common with us.”

She pulls off her gloves, revealing a full set of dark red claws, and folds up one leg like a flamingo so she can slide her dagger out of a holster strapped to her calf. She holds it well enough, wagging the blade up and down to demonstrate, but has to occasionally adjust her grip as her claw-tips slide along the wooden hilt like one might struggle with long fingernails.

"I'm not sure if a chef professionally, but enough to know his way around a kitchen. He's been rather reticent to tell me too much about himself." In case the part where he's been silent longer than he's been talkative wasn't an indicator. "I suppose there isn't much that I can do to convince him otherwise for the time being..."

He'll figure it out, he supposes. As long as he has a name to address the dragon by, that's more than he had before.

For now, there's a different focus, and he observes her movements. As before, at the party, he can tell there's a good base to her grip. It's just... Well, the exact same as him, and he nods. "That was what I had to deal with as well," he tells her. "It was frustrating, especially with how used I am to chopping things quickly." Not safe to do that with an unsure grip! "However, from what my carry-on has told me, this is what he would do when he was in a hurry and could not change his hands in time for whatever reason or another..."

What those reasons could be is an utter mystery to Ignis. It doesn't really matter right now. Instead, taking one of his own kitchen knives, he holds it out to her with his palm up so that she can observe his fingers without anything being awkwardly in the way. It's not the normal way he's used to, but it's clearly a style that has been come up with to adjust for long claws.

"He has said that, at least with himself, the scales were adjusted specifically on his palms to help grip it, and I have at least found that similar for myself." He's just fortunate that claws and scales came in together on his hands.

“Oh?” A pause, as she considers this. “Would you prefer it if your dragon was chattier?”

Pros and cons to both options, when she thinks about it. Absinthe considers herself fortunate that she likes her dragon patron well enough. “And yeah. I mean, I can still do it,” the Tiefling adds, swivelling her dagger in a slow circle with two claws pinning it at the hilt; but to the trained eye, her added caution and settling for her simplest of “tricks” is noticeable. At least she knows she should not, even if she claims she can.

Watching Ignis’ demonstrated grip, Absinthe stops swinging her dagger around and copies it, flicking her wrist a few times experimentally.

“How do you adjust the scales? Or is it just the arrangement that they grow into over time?” Well, Ignis’ dragon patron must be holding knives in some kind of half-shifted form a lot, huh.

"I suppose it's hard to say. With how he is currently, I do admit that his presence is... surprisingly unobtrusive." Which is nice, he supposes, because it makes him still feel a bit more himself. The flip side, of course - "Yet this does mean that I don't know as much about him as would perhaps be beneficial."

Frankly, Ignis is impressed that he managed to get out of the dragon that he did some manner of cooking in his past life, and he's fairly certain that only happened because he wanted to make sure he didn't cut off a finger by accident.

"As for the scales... I've been fortunate. This is mostly how they've been coming in along my hands." Ignis stops abruptly, gaze just a little over her shoulder, before he hums.

"...Sveargith spoke just now. He said that while, in time, we will likely be able to adjust the scales on our own with some practice, it is rather luck of the draw in the middle process. At least, if he had to hazard a guess. Well, I am thankful to learn that much."

“My dragon talks a bunch, but I don’t mind. It helps make my cottage feel less lonely. That’s not a problem you have, obviously.” Even if nobody else is home right now, this is clearly a multi-person household; which has its pros, but even if it is quiet there’s also a sense of luxury for her in having the run of an entire cottage to herself.

“You think so too? Yeah, it’s okay… Is there a carrot or something you want cut up? I want to try this.” She likes the grip, and her dragon is rumbling agreement in her ears, so, Absinthe moves on to the next obvious thing. She should also practice stabbing people and things with the knife, but the inside of this house is not the best place for that.

Stabbing people and things would indeed be something she should practice outside of Ignis's kitchen, which he would be quite grateful for her to do. As it is, for now, he only nods and gestures over to the counters. As his hand moves, so too does the wing on the same side in an awkward little jerk. He's... still getting a handle on what muscles move what back there.

"I was thinking that we could try something with onions first, since it appears those bags from the autumn celebration are in good circulation now. Do you like spring onions?" Because that's sure what he'd rustled up from the bag ahead of time.

“Hmm,” Absinthe replies in the breezy tone of someone who doesn't know exactly what a ‘spring onion’ is, and is trying not to show it. “I wouldn't eat one right out the bag, but they're good in many dishes, right?”

To her credit, though, Ignis revealing one such specimen will inspire recognition from her, and mild surprise that this is also an onion. Ah, well, you learn something new every day. The Tiefling circles closer to the countertop, curiosity piqued.

“Ah, I was thinking of those big round onions! Can you show me how you chop these?”

"That is what I thought would be in the bag as well," Ignis admits with a small little smile. "However, someone else was experimenting at the party, and I saw them pull such out at one point. I suppose as long as it is called an onion in some capacity, it is as fair game as anything else."

With that said, he sets the bag down and out of the way so that he can focus on the interestingly defined onion set upon the table. "As for this, the most common way to incorporate them into a dish in my experience is chopping them neatly to be folded or sprinkled about. You can eat all of it, if you like, but using the green is what I tend to do for the dish I'm planning." While waiting for her, however, something occurs to him, and he shows his clawed hands.

"Ah, but still... Along with cleaning your claws ahead of time, you will want to see if you can keep them clipped short. It will make it easier in the kitchen." As in, curling his fingers enough in proper kitchen safety techniques.

With that said, he gets right into finely chopping up a part of the spring onion. For all that he's complained about them, it's obvious that Ignis has already made himself adapt to the claw problem, at least in the kitchen. Just don't ask how long he forced himself to practice. "So like that - as thick or thin as you like. Would you wish to try?"

“Man,” Absinthe sighs at the reminder that selfcare is something she needs to put effort into, having crawled out of the Faerunian countryside less than a year ago into the big city. “I’ll look into it.”

Ignis’ demonstration is a welcome distraction from the talk of claw care. Absinthe doesn’t comment on his proficiency- it’s unsurprising to her that he would be practiced, and she’s doing the same by coming here as well. By the time Ignis is done she lets out a hum of recognition now that the onions have been chopped into the form she recognises in her food. “Aaah. I didn’t realise these were onions as well. Yeah, let me try!”

Absinthe holds up her dagger (it’s fineeee, she hasn’t used it to stab anything recently) and wipes it on a cloth before reaching out to slide the onion and cutting board over. She’s a quick learner when applying herself- the problem is applying herself- so, having paid attention to Ignis’ hand placement and the size of the cut onions, she begins imitating his motions with curled fingers in one hand and chopping knife in the other.

"Look into it the moment you leave this house," are the final words before she gets to cutting. Just to be sure she knows. He refuses to accept subpar nail care in his kitchen.

Still, he doesn't hound on her much after that. Instead, he says politely and carefully to the side in order to give her all the room she might need, just to be comfortable. With how they're all developing tails and wings (his wings more than his tail at present), that's all the more important to keep in mind. And he has to say he's quite impressed.

Of course she had shown considerable dexterity with her knives back at the party. Ignis had seen that with his own eyes; he doesn't doubt her skill in that arena. But just because someone is good at juggling a knife or doing fancy tricks doesn't necessarily mean that they'll be good at kitchen work.

It's a wonderful sign to see her catching on quickly here. "Excellently done," he praises. "Very clean cuts." While it's not the only important part to cooking, especially in a situation like this where they can't simply shove things into a modern oven or crockpot and call it a day, it's still nothing to sneeze at. "Those will fold in excellently for the recipe I had in mind for them. Would you like to practice on another one, just in case?"

Absinthe would preen at Ignis' praise if that was the only thing he gave throughout the attempt; but he's also given her instructions like he's her boss, so now the vibes are quite off. She gives him a sideways glance as she sweeps the onion bits into a little pile like she'd seen Ignis do.

“You're not my boss, so you're gonna have to pay me to do the nail thing so fast. But I will cut up more onions if you've got them.”

She doesn't even know he offed Ardyn once, so he's just some young-looking guy who's trying to take on more authority than he's owed.

If Ignis has his way, very few people will ever get to know about the fact that he murdered Ardyn and buried his corpse (for all the good that did in the end), so this suits him just fine. All he does is make a small huff, which probably only reinforces the sulky nerd image.

"It's sanitary," he tries to insist, although at least he's not making any further orders on that matter. Still, he does oblige by getting another spring onion out from the bag for her practice.

"Even if we are all turning into dragons, that doesn't mean we're immune to things like sickness, or things slipping into our food..."

She looks at him a second longer than necessary- suggesting perhaps she might not actually know what the word means and is bluffing- before huffing, making no further comment. Not because she doesn’t know exactly what “sanitary” means, nooo.

As Absinthe accepts the new onion and begins to chop, she decides to follow up instead with: “There’s a guy in town who says he can eat raw meat and not get sick, did you know? People are wild.”

That look is certainly noted, but Ignis at least doesn't say anything right away. Instead, he busies himself about in the rest of the kitchen as he prepares what little else is required for the dish he had in mind. The change in subject is definitely allowed without any protest or attempts to pull it back.

"Hm, that's not surprising. A lot of different types were pulled in. Some have different digestive systems even before dragons became involved, or others can't get sick..."

Or, if they're Ardyn, they're immortal and hate themselves enough to not care about the temporary discomfort...

"But I think I would still prefer cooking in the end. It makes the food far nicer, and that can make yourself and those you care about happier." He looks to her. "Do you like omelets, now that I am thinking on it?"

[winter catch all] Ignis

[lahabrea] lights throughout winter

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wrapped!

[absinthe] recipes for the winter

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