st_unning | Day in the Spa

Being read to by a pool, in what would probably end up being morning sunlight (the weather was seldom anything other than sunny), sounded like a small piece of heaven. Part of Ignis wanted to feel a little guilty about taking up Alcuin's time like that, but he had volunteered, and... it was simply pleasant, having company again. Having something like a friend, again.

As would have surprised exactly no one who knew him, Ignis was as much on time as it was possible to be for a meeting scheduled as nebulously as'the morning'. Despite that implicit formality, though, he'd left his jacket behind in his room and rolled up his sleeves. There weren't a lot of ways to indicate that one was off-duty, so to speak, but he trusted that would do.

On arriving at the pool area, Ignis gave the actual water a hopefully-wide and careful pass. He could swim, but misjudging the rim and accidentally falling in would... not endear himself anywhere.

With precisely the obstacle of the pool in mind, Alcuin walked over to the side where Ignis appeared before calling out to him. "Bonjour, Ignis! I made daiquiris! That seems appropriate, yes?"

"I shall take your word for it!" Ignis responded, orienting himself on Alcuin's voice and moving towards it. Even if he hadn't had any idea where the pool actually was, he realized, he'd trust Alcuin not to put it between them when calling out. No matter how funny it might be, Alcuin had more respect for both of their dignity than that.

As soon as Ignis got close, Alcuin put a hand on his arm to orient him, and then handed him one of the daiquiris. Strawberries, ice, and rum, blended. That kind of recipe Alcuin could handle now.

"It's nice to see you, Ignis," Alcuin said.

He'd been for a dip in the pool, and was still wearing swim trunks, his skin and hair slightly damp.

"Likewise." Actual sight wasn't required for the figure of speech, after all. And it was nice to be in Alcuin's company, enough so that Ignis accepted the drink (and the other man's effort in making it) without noting that, in general, he didn't drink alcohol. It generally seemed like a poor idea for someone who relied as heavily no sharp senses as he did to willingly dull them, but... it would have taken more than he had to refuse Alcuin's consideration.

And given the slight dampness of the hand on his arm and the faint water-smell around Alcuin... there might be something to be said for being a little less perceptive for a while.

"I also brought a book," Alcuin said pleasantly. "So, reading first. It's a nice day, lots of sunshine. I've found two chairs here with sun but not too much glare." He kept a hand on Ignis' arm to lead him. "I'll be honest, I haven't been terribly impressed with the books here. They have helped me learn about the modern world, but... well, they haven't been very good. I've no reason to think this one will be much better, but we can hope."

"If it isn't, we can stop." Reading good books, even at second hand, would be a pleasure, but terrible books were only a punishment. "The sun will be pleasant in any case, I'm sure."

They both sat on one of the long chairs by the pool, and Alcuin set aside his drink so that he could bring out the book. The cover showed a woman's hands holding an apple.

"Do you know what a vampire is?" he asked Ignis curiously.

Ignis frowned slightly. That question seemed to come out of left field. "A type of daemon, in my experience. Given to draining the life out of its victims, as well as disappearing and reappearing on the battlefield at random. They're decidedly unpleasant, but far from the most dangerous daemons in the world. Why?"

"The blurb on the book jacket suggests that this is a love story about a vampire," Alcuin said. "I wasn't sure if they were real, or just a fairy tale. Though what you say makes a love story sound rather unrealistic..."

"To say the least! They're not even verbal, in my world." Ignis took a slow drink of his daiquiri - quite good, and the burn of the alcohol was muted by the blended berries and ice - then shook his head. "Perhaps vampires vary by world as much as other things. I suppose there are more ridiculous ideas."

"Or perhaps they're not real in this world..." Alcuin said thoughtfully. "I wonder if things that are real in some worlds make their way into the stories of others. Well, let's see, shall we?"

He watched Ignis have a drink of the daiquiri, and was pleased when he seemed to enjoy it.

Alcuin opened the book, and read from the prologue aloud:

"I'd never given much thought to how I would die--though I'd had reason enough in the last few months--but even if I had, I would not have imagined it like this. I stared without breathing across the long room, into the dark eyes of the hunter, and he looked pleasantly back at me. Surely it was a good way to die, in the place of someone else, someone I loved. Noble, even. That ought to count for something..."

His voice trailed off, as the image of the light flickering out of Anafiel's eyes came to him unbidden.

The words jerked Ignis's attention as well, for different reasons. The 'hunter' might as well have been Ardyn right down to the pleasant look, but... no one had been able to take Noct's place and die instead. How much would have been better if that had been possible?

But Alcuin, no doubt, had just had less hypothetical griefs stirred up. Ignis reached out to the next chair to, hopefully, rest a hand on Alcuin's arm or hand. Sympathy via light physical contact.

Alcuin appreciated the gesture, particularly since Alcuin knew that Ignis could not see his face and so was intuiting how he might feel.

He decided to keep going, at least for a bit.

"I knew that if I'd never gone to Forks, I wouldn't be facing death now. But, terrified as I was, I couldn't bring myself to regret the decision. When life offers you a dream so far beyond any of your expectations, it's not reasonable to grieve when it comes to an end."

Alcuin stopped again. He was not entirely certain that he agreed with that statement, but it also made him wonder if he would rather have had a lifetime with Anafiel as a mentor and nothing more, or such a short time with everything he'd wanted.

He tried to shake away the thought, and then looked at Ignis. "I am certain I am judging too soon, but I find this depressing."

"One rarely expects a book to begin with the author facing imminent death," Ignis agreed. He might expect most stories involving vampires to both begin and end that way, but if this was supposed to be a love story, it was an odd choice. "Or at least, philosophizing about the reasonableness of being upset about facing death." In his view, it was never unreasonable to grieve one's losses, if only because human nature ensured that grief would happen whether or not it was reasonable.

"Well, it is a prologue so I suppose it is intended to build dramatic tension," said Alcuin.

He flipped through a few pages of the book to see what came next and then said, "Well, why don't we at least get through a bit of the beginning then, this seems much more innocuous." He started to read from Chapter One. "My mother drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down..."

It was indeed at this point a tame and not terribly interesting tale of a daughter being forced to move to a new town to live with her father. She was rather brooding and Alcuin did not entirely understand why. He also did not entirely understand the paradigm of high school, but she seemed far more concerned with fitting in with other young people than with her studies. And then she spotted Edward Cullen, who was mysterious and beautiful and, to Alcuin's understanding, rather creepy.

At the end of chapter one, Alcuin closed the book and said to Ignis, sounding amused, "I suppose we found our vampire. He's not very charming, is he. I suppose he must be very attractive."

Ignis was decidedly unimpressed with the alleged heroine of the book, particularly as regards her tendency to whine and feel sorry for herself when in fact nothing had actually happened to her. She'd moved from one town to another, and her new home seemed to nearly be at pains to welcome her. Contrast that with his own moving: age eight, across the kingdom, to attend a six-year-old and never see his own family again. "Even if he's not, I wish them well of each other simply to keep them away from people of better substance."

Alcuin laughed. "Yes, I think I agree with that," he said. "Why don't we leave it there." He set the book aside. "I'm sorry I couldn't bring you something more agreeable. What I wouldn't give for a library."

"I appreciate the effort, anyway." A good book would have been better, but even a terrible book (and even after a prologue and one chapter, Ignis was certain that 'Twilight' was a terrible book) was a pleasant way to pass time when Alcuin's company was added in.

Without the book was more so, though. "Perhaps we'll find a way to get more books even without one."

"I suppose we can write them," Alcuin said with a smile. "I have a very good memory, perhaps I should start writing down the passages I could remember from Naamah's Journey or Trois Milles Joie. I can also recite a fair amount of poetry from memory..."

"Blank paper may be easier to find than decent books." And it would be interesting to hear literature from Alcuin's world, definitely. "And for the record, I would be more than willing to listen to poetry should good books remain unavailable."

Alcuin looked up at the sky for a moment, and then said softly, "I will recite for you one of my favorites, then." Ignis would not know exactly how much this meant to him, and he needn't.

"O, dear my lord...
Let this breast on which you have leant
As close in love as a foe in battle,
Unarmed, unarmored, grappling chest to chest,
Alone in the glade
Where birds started at our voices,
Laughter winging airborne, we struggled
For advantage, neither giving quarter;
How I remember your arms beneath my grip,
Sliding like marble slickened;
Your chest pressed to mine
Heaving;
As our feet trampled the tender grass
Your eyes narrowed with tender cunning
And I unaware
Until your heel caught my knee; I buckled,
Falling,
Vanquished; O sovereign adored,
To be pierced ecstatic by the shaft of victory;
Sweet the pain of losing,
Sweeter this second struggle..."

His voice trailed off as he finished the poem, and hoped that the emotion had not been so apparent in his voice as he felt the ache of Anafiel's loss.

Perhaps it should have been predictable, but the poem made Ignis think of Noctis before he could shove it back and try to appreciate the words for what they were, devoid of... other meaning.

Even partially distracted, he heard the emotion in Alcuin's voice, as well as the fact that Alcuin was trying to hide it. Therefore, he ignored it. Mostly. At least as well as his own emotions, anyway. "That's lovely. Thank you, Alcuin."

"It was Anafiel's," Alcuin said softly. "He was a poet, a very good one..."

But then he cleared his throat, trying to chase away the melancholy. "But you're right, I should write them down. And it's unfortunate the Trois Milles Joies is mostly pictures. Though I'm not certain how interested others here would be in what is essentially an instruction manual for pleasure."

...Ah. Um. Ignis willed himself not to fidget uncomfortably. "Anything worth reading would be worth reading in general. And I, ah, imagine Miss Fisher at least might be interested." Perhaps the Captain Corsair as well, though she would be unlikely to admit it out loud.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject