Castles they may crumble

[berriedmemories]

WHO:XV Cast
WHAT: General catchall
WHERE: Probably mostly at the XV cottage
WHEN: spring/summer 2025
WARNINGS: blanket CW for depression (Noctis), suicidal ideation (Ardyn, Cor, Ravus), and general PTSD from a bunch of men that've been through hell. See subject lines for specifics

Comments

[threevirtues]

"Well, we will see if it pushes me or not." After all, Ignis has no idea himself. That's why it's him simply trying. Still, making sure the knife is set down, Ignis closes his eyes and leans fully back into Gladio's embrace. He recalls many afternoons, on his own, in this same kitchen, as a teenager and listening to another presence inside of him.

A breath, a gesture, and words in a language that Gladio may not know but may ping Lawrence.

From Ignis's point of view, it's been years now since he struggled to learn magic from Sveargith in this kitchen. Ever since the idea had come to him and the bartender had idly mentioned what he could do in his tavern, he'd been determined to get a knack for it. Why wouldn't he? In matters both practical and professional, it had just seemed like the right choice. An ability that could fix torn clothing on the fly, or something which could help protect those he loves... Why would he try anything else but to learn it if he could? Sveargith had certainly thought it could be possible, although he'd advised on learning small things first.

So they'd gone with a small thing to practice. Magic in this place varies spell to spell, apparently, with people dedicating much of their life to it. He'd been warned about that. Yet, as a youth, a part of him had been just a touch impatient. Been quietly frustrated as much as he was stubborn that he was clearly doing the gestures perfectly, speaking with the right words, and yet nothing.

Ignis quietly but clearly speaks the words. His fingers trace through the air.

And something finally pulls itself into physical reality.

Opening his eyes comes with some of Sveargith's commentary. Oh, that's an interesting choice. I normally made mine white. That seems to track, from what he knows of the dragon's preferred color. But not Ignis.

Instead, what flickers into existence there at the counter is a shimmering hand of burning bright blue.

Completely detached, of course, like someone's practice hand brought to life, but moves just as fluidly as Ignis's own where it picks up the knife he'd left there on the counter. Gets right to work chopping the vegetables, with none of his own jitters.

Which is quite handy, really.

Ignis lets out a breath, folding his arms over Gladio's. "It only took years to do that spell," he comments idly. Just a very dumb joke. A part of him is fairly certain that it's not time in his case that has anything to do with why he can now access reserves of magic inside of himself.

[swordlily]

"Years for who?" Gladio asks, watching the magic hand with open fascination. Leave it to Ignis to find a way to work without working, of course...but by that comment, he suspects Sveargith has a considerable amount to do with it, too. His first kneejerk thought - perhaps excused by his preoccupation with the results of the spell - is that perhaps it took Sveargith years to learn the spell, and that's what Iggy is referring to.

[threevirtues]

"Myself, of course." Not that Ignis can blame him for being a little bit off-balance on something like this. Even as the person who cast the spell, Ignis can't help staring as the hand moves deftly. Just like his own. Having it described to him by Sveargith is a far cry from seeing it in action.

"It is... a very strange thing," he admits quietly. "Remembering this place, as though a dream, from my youth... and then coming back. And not a soul has been changed, physically speaking."

Disorienting is puttig it lightly.