[It was the previous evening when it ended, when the thundering whispers finally stopped and so abruptly that it left his ears ringing in the aftermath. Ignis found himself suddenly, blessedly able to hear his own thoughts, though they hadn't lasted long beyond relief before he had slipped into something that was far closer to black unconsciousness than sleep.
He wakes with a pounding headache, more out of sorts than he can ever recall being in the morning. Food and a cup of coffee does little to help shake it, but he's still not feeling entirely himself when he heads out to check on Kate. The Door had done more than a number on her, that much he knows, and after realising he's been almost entirely out of commission for over two days the concern for her well-being curls in the pit of his stomach like something cold and weighty.
Ignis doesn't knock. He learned not to after the first few times. Instead, he unlocks the door and heads in silently, shutting it quietly behind him.
Normally, he'd call out. 'It's me', or 'anybody home' or something pleasantly corny to make her laugh, but not today. It's as if he's forgotten how to speak, the thoughts slipping down and rising back up to form words that stick in his throat and never find voice. What he manages, more or less, is to quietly clear his throat when he sees her.]
( Being able to move without every part of her body protesting in agony is a blessed change after the last few days, though instead it has more than a few things to say about just being too damn tired to do anything. She knew The Door would wreck her, that doing what she did would overload her powers, would be far too much for them to handle, but actually experiencing it for herself?
Well fuck, it would have been easier to simply let herself die and have Hope revive her, and isn't that just 50 shades of messed the fuck up?
She slowly chews a slice of toast, leaning heavily against the kitchenette counter, the world around her somehow managing to look duller though nothing has changed. Nothing but the emptiness running through threads of power veins, familiar and yet more terrifying than ever before.
She hadn't simply exhausted her powers, after all. She'd burnt straight through the whole thing and somehow come out alive.
And now all she can do is trust herself to time once more.
The door unlocks and her head lifts, turning back from a window with slowly dawning recognition as she comes face to face with someone who, honestly, looks about as bad as she feels. Hell, about as bad as she does, all unbrushed hair and skin paled by exhaustion, heavy shadows lining her eyes.
She doesn't want to sleep more, but everything in her screams for more rest. )
...You look like shit.
( But hi, boyfriend, she's just going to slowly pad her way over to where you stand and take your hand in hers. )
[He isn't certain if anyone saw him while he headed over here and honestly, he doesn't care at this point in time. No doubt they look as bad as each other, Ignis all uncombed hair and dark shadows standing stark against exhaustion-paled skin, his eyes still slightly unfocused with the headache pulsing at his temples.
But there's a reason he's here - a reason he all but dragged himself here - and that's for the simple, but undeniable balm of her touch against his hand. It wears the sharp edge from his weariness and he lifts her hand to kiss the back of it, the faintest ghost of a tired smile running over his expression.]
I feel worse. [He admits quietly, his voice slightly hoarse from the desperate, harsh whispers of 'shut up, shut up, shut up' that he had thrown against the rattling mutters in his head without even realising he spoke.
When he draws her against him it's slowly, gently, not like she will break but like both of them are fragile enough to shatter at the first hint of roughness. He puts an arm around her shoulders and tucks her head under his chin, smoothing her hair carefully behind her ear with the pad of his thumb.]
( By now she's used to the way he'll tuck her into himself, fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle, just as surely as he understands that the non-committal hum she makes in response isn't meant as a slight against his words but simply a case of not knowing what to say. That reality came all too close to happening — it certainly would have without Tranquility's help, when simply being around The Door or any of its fragments had been enough to leave them all shaken to their cores, dealing with whispers and flashes of emotion, feeling like their minds weren't their own.
She's exhausted, for far more reasons than simply having touched the Door, and the solid warmth of his body around hers allows her a moment to close her eyes, to inhale and forget everything for a moment. )
Coffee?
( Or, rather, what passes for coffee in this city. )
[Ignis does much the same. Inhales slowly, and allows the slight, solid warmth of her to anchor him down. He rubs his thumb against the back of her shoulder, rests his chin lightly against her hair and just... exists, for a few moments, until she speaks again.]
I fear coffee is little more than a band-aid at this point. [He tells her, all too aware of how weariness is seeping back into his body after his journey here. It will take several nights of good sleep to repair the damage done by the events of this past month, but he'll get there, in time. He is far too stubborn not to.]
I think that what I need - what we both need - is as much rest as our bodies and minds desire. [But it's as difficult for her to simply sit down as it is for him. He kisses her forehead, the touch lingering for a moment against her hair line, then he smiles at her again.]
( Resting is the worst, but she knows he's right, and concedes it with a sigh.
It's not like they're really missing out on anything by not drinking the crap, is it? )
Got tea, instead. ( Herbal stuff, no caffeine and a place to sit. That's a kind of resting, isn't it? After so long all but bound to her bed, the thought of going back into it is irritating to say the least.
Either way, she wraps her hand around his again and tugs him towards the couch. )
[Words that should have never come from Ignis Scientia's mouth, yet there they are. There are times he can almost tolerate the coffee here, but they are few and far between and right now it feels like the worst kind of idea.
He squeezes her fingers and moves after her, and when he sits down it's as if the tension in his body had been the only thing holding him up.]
Six-- [Ignis mutters, resting his head back.] This past week has been like a bloody nightmare.
( It isn't long until the scent of something... like lavender but not quite, wafts through the small house, and Kate carries two mugs over carefully, setting each directly on the table, because, really, who actually cares about what passes for furniture here and using coasters.
(If they were back in her world— not that such a thing is possible, but still— the story would be different. Her surroundings would be entirely different.
All of this has done nothing but make her ache with the realisation that she's still so far away from her world, and that returning will hurt for a whole host of other reasons.) )
Just this week?
( More like the whole month behind them. If she wasn't worried about Ignis' condition, her own was wearing down due to repeated trips down to watch Sorrow work on the Door, the artifact leaving its impression on her mind and body with constant nightmares and scattered thoughts on top of how it ripped through her powers. )
Mm, though the rest of the month has been fairly intolerable as well.
[He mutters a quiet 'thank you' when she brings over the tea and shifts up to take hold of the cup. While he's sitting upright, he holds himself with a strange deliberateness that only those who knew him well would notice, and the only sign that he's struggling with a level of discomfort that he's choosing not to mention.
It's been a long time since he's felt this tired. The Null invasion, perhaps, was the last time he came close.]
( There's a slight narrowing of Kate's dark eyes as he sits up, but she doesn't say a word about the way he sits, choosing to curl her legs under herself and blow steam from her cup instead.
There's nothing to be gained by pointing out his exhaustion again, they both are and they know it. Rather than that, she inhales the scent of tea and purses her lips at his question. )
I don't... know. ( Honestly. The month itself brought some interesting findings, but whether using her power on The Door was really... helpful in any way is something she hasn't found out yet. She should talk to Sorrow once she isn't exhausted, maybe.
A soft snort follows, the one thought that's been in her mind since she woke up finding voice. ) Dyin' would have hurt less.
[He doesn't stay sitting upright for long, and sinks back against the couch after a minute or so, silently grateful that his clear level of exhaustion wasn't pointed out. It doesn't need to be. They're both tired.
Tired enough that what she says doesn't provoke the swift reaction that it would have normally. He doesn't snap back against it, but mulls it over instead. In truth, she's probably right.
Ignis rests a hand on her knee, rubbing his thumb lightly over her kneecap.]
I may be the voice of dissent in this, but I'm quite glad you didn't die.
( She didn't go into this wanting to die. Once felt like more than enough, but when you die, the pain has an end. It doesn't continue burning through for days upon days until you can finally be healed. It's over.
And then, in this place, you come back. Fixed up and perfect. Easy enough to make death seem meaningless, to seem like a practical alternative to spending the last few days grimacing in pain and confined to her bed. Just a blip in their existence here. )
Me too.
( It would have been easier, less painful, sure. But waking up in Hope's temple and dealing with everyone's reactions is somehow worse than physical pain. )
[It's a dangerous thing, Ignis thinks, for death to be able to be reduced to something like a blip. It doesn't make any difference to the crushing loss that's felt when someone dies, only allows for reunions and well-earned lectures when they return. Perhaps that's worse.
He shifts a little closer to her and puts an arm out to silently beckon her in closer. Even through everything, it's good to be able to come back to this.]
I might have considered it as an alternative, myself. [The young man admits, after several long moments of thought over whether or not he should say it at all. He sips his drink to quickly distract his thoughts in the aftermath, closing his eyes but not minding the taste as much as he thought he would.]
We must stop wearing ourselves to the bone with these ordeals.
( It's a safety net. A terribly easy safety net to fall into. Why fight to come out of something, alive and in pain, when you can simply die and be resurrected? It's too practical a solution to ignore.
But he's calling her closer and every tired, dully aching part of her would rather give in than think about death for one more second, and she drains her cup and places it down before finding a comfortable way to lie against him. She's too old, too exhausted, and they're too blissfully alone, to even attempt to pretend that his presence is anything but a balm.
(And it's moments like this when she remembers how much older she is than him, despite everything. That he'd barely be out of university if they were in any other world, or had any other lives. It's a strange thing to remember, and always makes her limbs stiffen just that little bit.) )
And do what?
( It's an honest curiosity, because they're not good at doing things by halves, are they? )
[The young man thinks about that for a few moments, tilting his cup from side to side and watching the way that the liquid shifts against the sides. For people like them, there aren't really any other alternatives, are there?]
I was being facetious. [He replies with a faint, humourless smile as he squeezes his arm around her shoulders.]
( He's somehow right about both things. That they shouldn't overdo it but they will. Before coming here, she hadn't exhausted her powers in years, and this marks the third time since arriving in Hadriel the first time.
How did she end up back into these habits? )
Dunno what we'd do.
( This is nice, and comfortable, and there are times she believes she could sit here with him for hours without getting restless, but it's no better to sink into easy contentment than it is to obsess over work. )
[Ignis, too, has always been surprised by how easy it is to sit down and not feel the need to fidget when he's with her. The time is valued, seen as more than worth the loss of what others might consider to be more valuable pursuits.]
But you should be careful... at least for a while. Can you promise you'll try?
( She's bound up in promises, isn't she? Whether to herself or her friends, to the remnants of memories of her family, to him. Kate purses her lips and finds a more comfortable angle leaned against him, the weight of so many things practically tangible on her shoulders. The weight of vows broken and kept and the weight of exhaustion, working because that's all she knows.
How long can anyone keep pushing themselves like this? How many times has she thought I'm tired, whispered it out as a cry to those few she's let inside her circle? )
Alright.
( Her head lolls against his shoulder once more, a million weights pulling her closer to another stretch of sleep. )
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action; 26th
He wakes with a pounding headache, more out of sorts than he can ever recall being in the morning. Food and a cup of coffee does little to help shake it, but he's still not feeling entirely himself when he heads out to check on Kate. The Door had done more than a number on her, that much he knows, and after realising he's been almost entirely out of commission for over two days the concern for her well-being curls in the pit of his stomach like something cold and weighty.
Ignis doesn't knock. He learned not to after the first few times. Instead, he unlocks the door and heads in silently, shutting it quietly behind him.
Normally, he'd call out. 'It's me', or 'anybody home' or something pleasantly corny to make her laugh, but not today. It's as if he's forgotten how to speak, the thoughts slipping down and rising back up to form words that stick in his throat and never find voice. What he manages, more or less, is to quietly clear his throat when he sees her.]
no subject
Well fuck, it would have been easier to simply let herself die and have Hope revive her, and isn't that just 50 shades of messed the fuck up?
She slowly chews a slice of toast, leaning heavily against the kitchenette counter, the world around her somehow managing to look duller though nothing has changed. Nothing but the emptiness running through threads of power veins, familiar and yet more terrifying than ever before.
She hadn't simply exhausted her powers, after all. She'd burnt straight through the whole thing and somehow come out alive.
And now all she can do is trust herself to time once more.
The door unlocks and her head lifts, turning back from a window with slowly dawning recognition as she comes face to face with someone who, honestly, looks about as bad as she feels. Hell, about as bad as she does, all unbrushed hair and skin paled by exhaustion, heavy shadows lining her eyes.
She doesn't want to sleep more, but everything in her screams for more rest. )
...You look like shit.
( But hi, boyfriend, she's just going to slowly pad her way over to where you stand and take your hand in hers. )
no subject
But there's a reason he's here - a reason he all but dragged himself here - and that's for the simple, but undeniable balm of her touch against his hand. It wears the sharp edge from his weariness and he lifts her hand to kiss the back of it, the faintest ghost of a tired smile running over his expression.]
I feel worse. [He admits quietly, his voice slightly hoarse from the desperate, harsh whispers of 'shut up, shut up, shut up' that he had thrown against the rattling mutters in his head without even realising he spoke.
When he draws her against him it's slowly, gently, not like she will break but like both of them are fragile enough to shatter at the first hint of roughness. He puts an arm around her shoulders and tucks her head under his chin, smoothing her hair carefully behind her ear with the pad of his thumb.]
... I thought I might have lost you.
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( By now she's used to the way he'll tuck her into himself, fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle, just as surely as he understands that the non-committal hum she makes in response isn't meant as a slight against his words but simply a case of not knowing what to say. That reality came all too close to happening — it certainly would have without Tranquility's help, when simply being around The Door or any of its fragments had been enough to leave them all shaken to their cores, dealing with whispers and flashes of emotion, feeling like their minds weren't their own.
She's exhausted, for far more reasons than simply having touched the Door, and the solid warmth of his body around hers allows her a moment to close her eyes, to inhale and forget everything for a moment. )
Coffee?
( Or, rather, what passes for coffee in this city. )
no subject
I fear coffee is little more than a band-aid at this point. [He tells her, all too aware of how weariness is seeping back into his body after his journey here. It will take several nights of good sleep to repair the damage done by the events of this past month, but he'll get there, in time. He is far too stubborn not to.]
I think that what I need - what we both need - is as much rest as our bodies and minds desire. [But it's as difficult for her to simply sit down as it is for him. He kisses her forehead, the touch lingering for a moment against her hair line, then he smiles at her again.]
But if you insist, I'll join you in a cup.
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It's not like they're really missing out on anything by not drinking the crap, is it? )
Got tea, instead. ( Herbal stuff, no caffeine and a place to sit. That's a kind of resting, isn't it? After so long all but bound to her bed, the thought of going back into it is irritating to say the least.
Either way, she wraps her hand around his again and tugs him towards the couch. )
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[Words that should have never come from Ignis Scientia's mouth, yet there they are. There are times he can almost tolerate the coffee here, but they are few and far between and right now it feels like the worst kind of idea.
He squeezes her fingers and moves after her, and when he sits down it's as if the tension in his body had been the only thing holding him up.]
Six-- [Ignis mutters, resting his head back.] This past week has been like a bloody nightmare.
no subject
(If they were back in her world— not that such a thing is possible, but still— the story would be different. Her surroundings would be entirely different.
All of this has done nothing but make her ache with the realisation that she's still so far away from her world, and that returning will hurt for a whole host of other reasons.) )
Just this week?
( More like the whole month behind them. If she wasn't worried about Ignis' condition, her own was wearing down due to repeated trips down to watch Sorrow work on the Door, the artifact leaving its impression on her mind and body with constant nightmares and scattered thoughts on top of how it ripped through her powers. )
no subject
[He mutters a quiet 'thank you' when she brings over the tea and shifts up to take hold of the cup. While he's sitting upright, he holds himself with a strange deliberateness that only those who knew him well would notice, and the only sign that he's struggling with a level of discomfort that he's choosing not to mention.
It's been a long time since he's felt this tired. The Null invasion, perhaps, was the last time he came close.]
Was it at least worth the trouble you went to?
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There's nothing to be gained by pointing out his exhaustion again, they both are and they know it. Rather than that, she inhales the scent of tea and purses her lips at his question. )
I don't... know. ( Honestly. The month itself brought some interesting findings, but whether using her power on The Door was really... helpful in any way is something she hasn't found out yet. She should talk to Sorrow once she isn't exhausted, maybe.
A soft snort follows, the one thought that's been in her mind since she woke up finding voice. ) Dyin' would have hurt less.
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Tired enough that what she says doesn't provoke the swift reaction that it would have normally. He doesn't snap back against it, but mulls it over instead. In truth, she's probably right.
Ignis rests a hand on her knee, rubbing his thumb lightly over her kneecap.]
I may be the voice of dissent in this, but I'm quite glad you didn't die.
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And then, in this place, you come back. Fixed up and perfect. Easy enough to make death seem meaningless, to seem like a practical alternative to spending the last few days grimacing in pain and confined to her bed. Just a blip in their existence here. )
Me too.
( It would have been easier, less painful, sure. But waking up in Hope's temple and dealing with everyone's reactions is somehow worse than physical pain. )
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He shifts a little closer to her and puts an arm out to silently beckon her in closer. Even through everything, it's good to be able to come back to this.]
I might have considered it as an alternative, myself. [The young man admits, after several long moments of thought over whether or not he should say it at all. He sips his drink to quickly distract his thoughts in the aftermath, closing his eyes but not minding the taste as much as he thought he would.]
We must stop wearing ourselves to the bone with these ordeals.
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But he's calling her closer and every tired, dully aching part of her would rather give in than think about death for one more second, and she drains her cup and places it down before finding a comfortable way to lie against him. She's too old, too exhausted, and they're too blissfully alone, to even attempt to pretend that his presence is anything but a balm.
(And it's moments like this when she remembers how much older she is than him, despite everything. That he'd barely be out of university if they were in any other world, or had any other lives. It's a strange thing to remember, and always makes her limbs stiffen just that little bit.) )
And do what?
( It's an honest curiosity, because they're not good at doing things by halves, are they? )
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I was being facetious. [He replies with a faint, humourless smile as he squeezes his arm around her shoulders.]
I can't imagine us doing anything else.
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How did she end up back into these habits? )
Dunno what we'd do.
( This is nice, and comfortable, and there are times she believes she could sit here with him for hours without getting restless, but it's no better to sink into easy contentment than it is to obsess over work. )
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[Ignis, too, has always been surprised by how easy it is to sit down and not feel the need to fidget when he's with her. The time is valued, seen as more than worth the loss of what others might consider to be more valuable pursuits.]
But you should be careful... at least for a while. Can you promise you'll try?
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How long can anyone keep pushing themselves like this? How many times has she thought I'm tired, whispered it out as a cry to those few she's let inside her circle? )
Alright.
( Her head lolls against his shoulder once more, a million weights pulling her closer to another stretch of sleep. )