#— ᴅɪᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴜɴsᴀɪᴅ ( answered. )

[descientia]

@avulsusprinceps —

“Your wish is my command.”

( random sentence starters // still accepting )

- — — Oh, Ignis smirks. And it isn’t ( entirely ) because he relishes the thought, but because he advises Noct on far more things than Noct ever heeds, and that rather leaves Ignis with the feeling that Noct never acts in accordance with Ignis’s wishes. At least, no more frequently than a broken clock displays the correct time, if even that frequently.

- — — Which is fine. He is the liege, and Ignis the sworn, after all.

- — — But playing at that going the other way around, even verbally, even in jest ( as Ignis is certain he must mean it, for surely Noct is not under the impression that he actually listens to Ignis even half of the time— ) pulls at the corners of Ignis’s lips and causes his eyes to glimmer dangerously with the temptation to say so many smart-assed things in reply.

- — — He stays them. Mostly. The punctuated words that he does choose — and the look that accompanies them — say enough.

- — — “Would that were so.”

[descientia]

@battleshot —

❛ Now, that looks like a grand adventure. ❜

( random sentence starters // still accepting )

- — — Anyone would be forgiven for assuming Ignis Scientia did not play video games. He was busier than any nineteen-year-old had the right to be, staunchly kept his head grounded very firmly in reality rather than fantastical worlds, and had been acting thirty-five since he was fourteen years old. Video games were, simply put, a waste of time.

- — — There was also another very good reason why he avoided them:

- — — Ignis Scientia became an absolute monster when he played video games.

- — — Not that Noctis and Prompto could have well anticipated when they had persuaded their most no-nonsense friend to round out their four-man party in King’s Knight ( an act of desperation, Ignis was half certain ) that it mentally scratched his precise itch to master things and then be rewarded for doing so. Now he was researching their next campaign of his own volition, and that entailed blanketing the table in front of him in maps, charts, binders, and print-outs of battle strategies — in quadruplicate, neatly stapled in the corner.

- — — He thrust one into Prompto’s hands as soon as he approached.

- — — “It will be,” Ignis assured. “Now that I have Fire IV, we’ll be able to utilize the optimal strategy for defeating the Tonberry King without an oracle in our party. With that worked into my rotation, I’ll be able to continue buffing you and Noct and keep Gladio alive whilst still maintaining damage output myself. If you study the chart I drafted for you on page three—” He points at the booklet, which might possibly be the least fun way anyone has ever approached a video game. “—and believe you can commit that to memory by Thursday evening, we should be able to push our DPS high enough to defeat him before he summons the adds.”

[descientia]

@battleshot —

❛ I thought we’d be together forever. ❜

( random sentence starters // still accepting )

- — — The rain has held back all day today, until now.

- — — It’s a cold, drizzly sort of rain that has sent much of the crowd home, and for that much Ignis is grateful. Otherwise, it would be nearly impossible for Ignis and Prompto to have this moment alone. Not at the newly dedicated memorial to the King of Light.

- — — A chill wind picks up, inspiring even more public mourners to return home, but Ignis makes no motion to leave. He merely pulls his coat tighter around him, sets his jaw ( a bead of rain rolling over the muscle ), and quietly, is grateful for Prompto’s presence beside him.

- — — His body isn’t here. They interred him miles away, overlooking the sea at Cape Caem. The Tomb of the Chosen. It’s distant, but Ignis feels it is right. After all, Noct will spend eternity there, and those who survived and love him will only be here a fraction of that time to wish he was closer.

- — — In the end, it doesn’t matter how far his resting place is, or how close a stone monument that Ignis cannot view. Either way: he is gone.

- — — Enough time passes with Ignis’s silence that Prompto would not be remiss in wondering if he had heard him, or heard but does not intend to say anything at all. On the contrary, he is gathering himself, for those words have stricken far deeper than Prompto likely meant to strike.

- — — So it is with a deep breath and a soft hitch that he finally, quietly replies, “As did I.”

- — — ...Once.

- — — He stands so dignified still, expression partially masked by his visor. Surely it’s the rain rolling down his scarred cheek.

[descientia]

@ravusnightblossom —

❛ I am just saying, murder is an option. ❜

( random sentence starters // still accepting )

- - — Ah, the time-honored art of international politics.

- - — “Far be it from me to question what Aranea has done to you but I assure you it is is not.”

[descientia]

No Ignis, and yet something smells suspiciously like food cooking anyway. There's a shrimp and scallop risotto simmering on the stove, and Noctis is currently intent on icing a fresh from the oven chiffon cake. Not the most artisanal cake - it has a certain.... *lean* to it - but what it lacks in presentation it makes up for in heart, and a comically handprint-shaped smudge of flour on Noctis' cheek. "Hey Specs. Happy Birthday. You hungry?"

- — —  Ignis’s nose knows when there’s seafood being seen to and cake being baked. All for his sake.

- — —  He stops in the doorway to take in the scene before him, and if he hadn’t already made enough noise entering the apartment to announce himself he might have been tempted to linger there silently and watch Noct labor so intently over his culinary arts. A smile slowly spreads across his lips and he folds his arms across his chest while surveying Noct and his work appreciatively. 

- — —  “ Why, I’m suddenly quite famished. ” He crosses to the stove and inhales the aroma wafting from the skillet ( careful to pinch his paper spectacles to his nose as he lowers his face ). It doesn’t seem to be a disaster, though only a taste test will tell. “ This looks delightful, Noct. Did you follow a recipe, or improvise this yourself? ”

[descientia]

"Why am I here? You know I hate these things."

winter ball starters // still accepting

- — — “ You are here, ” Ignis began, promptly turning Noctis about face by the shoulders to head back in the direction from whence he came ( and abandon any hopes of making the stealthy exit that Ignis had cruelly intercepted ), “ because you must be. ”

- — —  Ignis, at least, looked just as comfortable in a tailcoat and his hair slicked back ( his spectacles elsewhere this evening, leaving it unclear as to whether he was wearing contact lenses or simply going without ) as he did in any jeans and a button-down. He marched Noctis a handful of steps back toward the ballroom and released him when he was confident he would continue walking without the lead. “ The Lucismas Ball is about light and warmth in the cold and dark of winter. It isn’t just tinsel and revelry; it’s the lore of your ancestors. It’s the promise of the King to protect the people. If the Prince of Lucis won’t visibly show his participation and support, why would they? ”

[descientia]

"Happy Birthday Specs," she says with a smile and places a small box adorned with a golden ribbon into his hands. "A celebratory assortment of macarons from Ladurée. Thought you might like them."

- — —  “ Ladurée... ” There was a tinge of wistful nostalgia in his voice as he accepted the box and ran his fingertips over the careful packaging, taking in every detail. “ They were one of my favorite establishments in Insomnia. I am glad the owner made it out safely. ”

- — —  At last he untied the ribbon ( gingerly, as though the box itself were a precious artifact ) and opened the lid just a hair, bringing that opening to his nose to inhale the bittersweet scent of sugar and memories. “ This must have cost you a fortune, Aranea. Thank you. ”

- — —  He removed the lid fully at last and held the open box toward her. “ Please. I insist. ”

[descientia]

He's holding something behind his back, and the blush on his cheeks is indicative of how ridiculous the reveal's about to be. Gladio presents a dark chocolate cupcake, frosted high with a coffee buttercream, decorated with edible gold. A single sparkler is poked through the apex, which he lights as he presents it. "Happy birthday, Ignis."

- — —  The smirk plays on his lips well before the treat is revealed. He knows the day, and he knows when Gladio is up to something. But what Gladio presents exceeds his expectations, at least as far as decoration and craftsmanship are concerned. Thoughtfulness? No.

- — —  “ How very sweet of you, ” Ignis praises, softness and sentimentality in his voice despite that he can’t resist the pun. ( He is permitted them on his own birthday, if ever there was an occasion. ) 

- — —  He blows out the candle, as is expected. It might also be expected of him to accept the cupcake, sample it, and deliver some favorable feedback. Instead he curls his fingers around the soft leather of Gladio’s jacket, pulls him down to his level, and samples the man instead. ( He is careful not to damage the cupcake still in Gladio’s hands, however. )

- — —  He still has Gladio in his grasp and still very much devilishness on his lips when he breaks them away only far enough to rumble against his cheek, “ But I believe in doing more than wishing. ”

[descientia]

👠 What kind of shoes does your character usually wear in daily life? ( please for the love of god tell us about ignis wearing some louboutins. please. i will beg if i need to. )

character appearance meme // still accepting

Listen their uniforms might officially be designed by Roen or whatever but those are red soles and I will hc all of their Crownsguard shoes to be Louboutins until the day I die.

They’re probably not the only Louboutins he owns, either. Ignis likes his fancy footwear. He comes from a wealthy family, earns an excessive salary, and if there’s one trivial thing he spends his exorbitant amounts of money on it’s designer labels. As Carrie Bradshaw once said, “I like my money where I can see it: hanging in my closet.”

To be fair, he is more frugal and practical in nearly all else, and despite being born into the lap of luxury ( re: wealth, I generally hc the Scientia family to be among the least wealthiest of noble families but still firmly in the 1% of Insomnia, as all the noble families are ), he does believe in exercising restraint and practicing moderation. This comes from striving to set a good example for the Prince since he was a child; although Ignis has access to money and servants, he makes a point to be self-sufficient in hopes of instilling good habits in Noct. But they’re all rich kids and he has spent his entire life immersed in the lifestyle of the rich and famous, so his idea of frugality and restraint is somewhat less frugal and restrained than mine and probably yours.

His financial vice is fashion. He spends on it. A lot. Lou.boutins, Ferra.gamo, Cor.thay, Hai.der Acker.mann, or whatever the Eosian equivalent is for any of those brands. The scent of new, smooth Altissian leather gets him a little bit excited.

Don’t get your hopes up about 6″ stilettos or anything; he wears men’s fashion only. But he’s willing to branch beyond the standard and safe black and brown oxfords, and Shiva knows he has enough shoes in his closet to have both the “safe” options and the more adventurous ones well covered. He favors classic silhouettes but is willing to experiment with interesting embellishments, luxurious textures, unexpected colors, that sort of thing. He doesn’t go overboard, but just the right amount of deviation from the norm to provide something unexpected while still remaining tasteful.

Ignis knows fashion. It might make you wonder what he does in his spare time.

I also like to think that brands are more or less showering Noct and his closest companions in free shit nearly all the time in hopes of getting their stuff seen on the prince and his friends. ( That’s where his car comes from, isn’t it? )

More to the point of the question, I suppose, he does tend to wear dress shoes in daily life, mostly because his job has him in upscale business formal most days, and the care that he has put into his professional appearance has made that his overall style. His more casual wear might see him in boots or loafers; he’s not likely to wear sneakers unless for athletic purposes.

He’s a size 10.5 Lucian / 44 Accordian. ( It’s just a little larger than the average. )

[descientia]

✗ What (if any) scars does your character have?

character appearance meme // still accepting

In addition to the scars that Ignis sustains on his face from his encounter with the the Ring of the Lucii ( the large one on his left eye / cheekbone; smaller ones on his right eyebrow, the bridge of his nose, and the right side of his lower lip ), Ignis also has similar scarring on his left hand. The ring itself has burnt its impression into his left middle finger, and then he has similar burn scars extending from that toward his wrist and forearm. His left hand actually sustained more skin damage than the skin on his face ( although of course the real damage was the loss of his eyesight ).

His left eye is permanently fused closed. The fire melted the flesh such that his eyelids fused together when it healed, and I imagine he has much fewer eyelashes left there than we see on his model. ( Ditto for his left eyebrow. ) There are places between his eyelids where the skin is not completely fused and tears can escape, but honestly it’s physically painful if he cries or his eyes water because there isn’t much room for it to drain.

His right eye is clouded over and appears icy blue, like a cataract. I feel like canon implies he can still see some light ( I have thoughts on this that I won’t deviate into just here and now ), but I hc that his vision loss is complete, because … it’s magical damage. The fire from the ring left the scars but it isn’t what took his eyesight; the ring itself took his eyesight. It was the price extracted from him for its power. It wasn’t a partial loss.

If he has any scars from like an appendectomy or a youthful shaving incident or something I haven’t really decided. He’s been combat training since he was 15–16 and fencing even before that so he’s probably sustained some injuries. But then, when ur BFF makes healing potions out of Gatorade, maybe nothing actually scars.

[descientia]

icb i've ever been nice to u when u just hurt me like that so casually wow

— ( fyi I routinely savage @praesidioest’s muse and then laugh about it.

[descientia]

Gladiolus hooks an enthusiastic arm around Ignis' shoulder, pulling him in for a warm embrace. "Happy birthday Ignis!" He grins widely then spins his friend around for him to see the double tiered, ribbon banded buttercream iced cake on the table. And while it is a bit lopsided, it's filled with all the good intentions he has for the advisor's special day. "I can't take all the credit. Iris helped a lot with this too."

- — —  Pushed, pulled, hugged, spun, prodded, slapped, spanked, and even kissed — he’s come to expect all on his birthday, and good-naturedly goes with the flow. So it isn’t any of these gestures that truly surprises him, but the scope of the project that they took on.

- — —  “ My word! ” It is lopsided, yes, but he can forgive it. He circles the table slowly ( when released from Gladio’s grasp ), appreciating the confectionary from all angles. “ She has been practicing. ”

- — —  After he has given it a complete three-sixty, Ignis peels his attention from the cake to smile warmly at Gladio. “ Thank you, Gladio. And give my thanks to Iris as well. Better yet, let us fetch her, and Noct, so they may enjoy a slice with us. ”

[descientia]

No one could say Ignis wasn't a man of his word - by the time the waltz began at Holly's wedding party, he sought Aranea out and she accepted, easing herself into his embrace. He led confidently, and Aranea described the events around into his ear, adding a few colorful details here and there for him. "There is a handsome man in this well tailored suit dancing with this gorgeous woman in a short red dress... Best looking couple around," she smirked, "Oh wait. I was looking at the mirror."

- — —  Ignis could not help but to snicker and dip his head to keep from giving himself away. 

- — —  He never knew what to make of Aranea’s playful ways. No one ever made passes at him like that, even in jest, but neither, he knew, was he the only one she was known to jest with in such a manner. It was simply her sense of humor, he supposed, and all Ignis could do was try to play it cool and bluff that he was used to such things. That it did not faze him at all. That the dopey schoolboy grin on his face ( which she hopefully could not see from her vantage point at his shoulder ) was there because he found her to be amusing and not enchanting.

- — —  He was having fun. He was enjoying this. He felt guilty about that for a moment, because with all the world was these days, fun felt selfish. But Holly and her wife had decided to have a wedding apocalypse-be-damned precisely because life could not stop, and in that context, permitting one to enjoy oneself seemed the only proper way to honor them.

- — —  Ignis adjusted his light grip on Aranea’s right hand, suddenly missing his gloves’ ability to absorb perspiration. He did not wear them to this event; they were driving gloves, and though equally suited to gripping daggers as steering wheels, they were still far too casual for such a formal event as a wedding reception. ( Even if the apocalyptic dress code was considerably more lax than the sort Ignis was used to adhering to, and he may have been the only one in attendance who cared for such distinctions, he did still care. ) Second to his hearing, his sense of touch was his next most prominent gateway to the world, and as a blind man who usually kept his fingertips covered, resting his bare hand in Aranea’s felt intimate in a way it should not have for anyone over the age of twelve.

- — —  “ A bold presumption, ” he remarked, clearing his throat and licking his dry lips before dropping them near to her ear. “ I was told they were simply two friends, one of whom owed the other a dance. ”

[descientia]

❝ I can’t believe we’re talking about this right now. ❞

a hundred random starters // still accepting

- – —  “ We knew this time would come eventually, if under entirely different circumstances. ” That did not mean that Ignis was without compassion, however. He took a seat beside Noct at the campfire, hands folded between his slightly parted knees. The other two had gone to bed, which was precisely why Ignis had chosen this moment to broach the topic, should Noctis react as unfavorably as he anticipated. “ The next time you return to Insomnia, it will be as king, and beyond the particulars of the battle that will entail, we must also discuss what it will mean politically. ”

[descientia]

❛ And when were you planning on telling me? ❜

concerned sentence prompts // still accepting

- — —  Ignis nearly jumped out of his skin and quickly withdrew his hand from Noct’s. Caught without his gloves on, he had not heard Noctis approach until it was too late and the sudden firm grasp about his fingertips ( held up for a closer examination, no doubt ) was revealed to be none other than his King’s.

- — —  Noct did not need to articulate his inquiry any further. The twisted scar on his hand. The outline of the ring burned into his middle finger.

- — —  Ignis had never told Noctis the details of how he had sustained his injury.

- — —  He cradled his own left hand now like a mother soothing an injured child, his whole demeanor appearing somewhere far away and in the past. He lowered his head and shook it once, slowly: an admission of some deception, and that even one’s most loyal could withhold truths.

- — —  “ …I was not. Why burden you further? ”

[descientia]

It's times like these when Ignis asks himself: 'Do any of the store clerks ever wonder why I'm buying so many condom packets? They don't think that /I'm/ using them all, right?' Oh, the things he does for the safety of his friends. And the sanctity of their tent. No one wants the Crotchscourge in there.

- — —  He was shaving when the thought came to him so suddenly and he halted, cheek half shorn, blade poised over the next patch of foam. Green eyes gazed at green eyes.

- — —  “ It would certainly explain why that last one wrote a telephone number on the slip... ” he murmured to himself before stilling his lips and carefully resuming his task. Well, there was one general store that they shan’t be revisiting. 

- — —  No matter... Anything was better than crotchscourge.