st_unning | Day in the Spa

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.

Alcuin chuckled. "You may be right about that. Oh, speaking of Miss Fisher!" He smiled brightly, even knowing that Ignis could not see it. "We had a helpful conversation the other day, and she pointed out an actual helpful skill set I have... which was what I thought you might be willing to help me out with. I want to take an inventory of the spa here. I have some skill with therapeutic massage."

Even though he couldn't see the smile, Ignis could hear it. Even without effort to that effect, smiles tended to enter peoples' tone, which meant it was one expression he could decipher without difficulty.

Alcuin's smile was not surprising in the least, either; he'd spoken before of his desire to be useful and productive, of his need to find something to do. Of his worry that the skills he had were none of the above. Ignis smiled back with unfeigned pleasure that none of those worries had been valid. "I would be more than happy to help you, of course."

Alcuin beamed at him. "Oh, thank you," he said. "It will be nice to have the company. It's actually right here near the pool, if you don't have anywhere to run off to?"

"Nowhere at all," Ignis assured him. It would have had to be a considerable emergency to draw him away from Alcuin's company, and while that was an issue that would no doubt have to be attended to before it became obvious, there was no need to worry about it now. Tidying and inventory was decidedly friendly assistance. "Tell me how I can help."

"Well, partly I'd just like company, and you're very good at that," Alcuin said. He got to his feet, and took Ignis' hand to pull him up. "Come along, let's go explore, then." And he kept hold of Ignis' hand to lead him to the spa.

Quite probably he should have taken his hand back and used Alcuin's footsteps and the almost-indistinguishable (to most) echoes of them to find his own way, but Ignis let himself be led. "I expect proximity to the pool means you'll have a lot of visitors once you're set up."

"Perhaps!" said Alcuin. "I also hope that there are others here who might have suitable skills for a spa. I know about massage, but that is about it. I'm not really sure what a facial is, for example."

They walked inside the main entrance of the spa. There was a slight smell of subtle scents of lotion and soap, even though the bottles had all been closed up for some time, Alcuin assumed.

"A facial would be one or more of several types of skin treatment for the face. Masks, and so forth." Ignis shrugged. His own skill set had never come close to including either facials or massages, given Noct's frequent discomfort with being touched at all in general. "Perhaps there are instructions somewhere for the procedures you don't know." It was a long shot, but had to be a non-zero possibility.

"Perhaps," Alcuin said. "I do enjoy learning new things. So - " He began describing the space around them. "There are a number of massage tables, and also chairs by sinks. There is a steam room, and showers, and... I believe they are called jacuzzis? There are a number of massage oils and other products that I can't quite identify."

Yes, he was present to be company, but the idea of helping Alcuin get his place arranged was a pleasant one, so Ignis started moving around the space. Slowly and carefully, subtly using his feet to swipe for obstacles since he hadn't even bothered to bring his cane out of his room in weeks.

There had to be some kind of desk or office with... appointment books, inventory ledgers, something. A computer. They would be of no use to him, but might provide Alcuin with some usable information. "The chairs by sinks are likely for hair or face washing, particularly if there's a divot in the front. The patron rests his or her neck there to put their head over the sink and make the washing easier for the one performing it."

Alcuin looked over at them. "That makes sense," he said. Then imagined it, finding that the position made a lot of sense. "I know how to do that... wash hair, scalp massage." He opened a cabinet above the sinks, finding an array of soap... shampoo. Just for hair, he assumed.

The combination of faint floral/herbal/fruit smell was oddly soothing despite how indistinct it was, and the space was well-arranged enough that Ignis didn't even come close to humiliating himself by crashing into something while trying to avoid another thing. No desk, yet, but the space was taking shape around him at least. "If we can find proper scissors, hair-cutting is another service that will likely be called for, sooner or later. I doubt that anyone's hair will cease to grow just because we're trapped here."

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