Steps

"There was a shuffling in the room. The sound of an object being placed onto the table. Footsteps dulled by the carpet."

Ignis-centric. Oneshot. Heavy spoilers for Chapter 9.

Exploring the theme of text based, but non-visual imagery.

Final Fantasy XV © Square Enix.

/

"Six steps to the door", he recalled, fiddling subconsciously with the fabric of his pants, "the room we're staying in – ten steps and left. The sitting room? Ignore the left and just straight… with another four? Five? Steps before a…. table, was it?"

Ignis Scientia sighed inwardly, trying to ignore the dull ache of his face threatening to cloud his thoughts. He leaned into his elbows resting on his thighs, pulling away from the back of the plush armchair he was seated in.

"It's only been a day," he told himself, his inner monologue wavering in the perpetual darkness he found himself surrounded in. "Things may change for the better yet."

He heard a light tap on the door, and a creak of the hinge. The twenty-two year old brunette turned to the sound, making a puzzled expression as he struggled to identify the newcomer. A gloved hand took his, which he accepted graciously, running his fingertips over it in an attempt to gather more clues. He felt soft leather, slightly worn out, especially on the palms. The exposed skin on the back, bony and slightly dry. Fingers, long and slender.

"Prompto?" Ignis asked, coming to his conclusion.

"That's me," came the reply, the tone lacking the usual playfulness that came from the blond. "Noct hasn't woken up yet? It's time to switch, go get some rest."

His fingers closed around the patiently outstretched hand. Prompto Argentum offered a gentle tug, placing a hand on Ignis's back to provide more support. The blonde helped him to his feet. Six steps to the door, a pause. The door, a round knob. Twist to the right, and pull to open.

He was guided four steps past into the sitting room; a right. Three steps; left. Prompto sat him down, settling him onto what he had once thought was a table, but realised was a couch. A lingering pat on the shoulder, and the presence was gone. In the distance, he could hear the sound of a door opening and shutting again.

The sitting room was silent, with the occasional rustle of pages flipping and the metronome-like ticking of the clock. Their third companion, Gladiolus Amicitia, must be here reading. Ignis shuffled uncomfortably, partly unsure of what to do, and partly at the stiffness of the couch he had been placed into. The faint scent of flowers - lily of the valley, if he had to guess, floated in the air.

His mind wandered.

During Lady Lunafreya's audience with the Astral Leviathan, he was tasked with Gladiolus to evacuate the people of Altissia. Things had been going as plan, until….

The sky suddenly turned turbulent. There was a loud roar, with a large wall of water rising, obscuring the horizon. The wall began to turn, as if the inside of the eye of a storm.

He heard a crack. The stone walls of the buildings around him began to and crumble away, large fragments and debris dancing into the sky, taken by the storm. Ignis ignored his surroundings, running through the streets, making sure all the citizens were indeed gone.

A strong jolt, accompanied with searing pain shot through his face, stopping him in his tracks. The brunette groaned and winced, shutting his eyes. His world turned a crimson before drowning into pitch black. He fell to his knees; a hand, bracing the ground, the other, pressed over his eyes. He smelled iron, felt the warm, slick, yet sticky feeling of blood slowly seep down his fingers, pooling in the creases of his palm and traveling down his wrist .

There was then a panicked voice, the thump of footsteps dashing towards him. "Ignis!" Something touched his back. Was it a hand? "Ignis! Talk to me!"

The unmistakable scent of musky cologne and sweat. "Gladio…" the brunette groaned, his voice strained from the pain. Another hand clutched his forearm and helped him to his feet, pulling him towards the greatsword user's chest. Ignis graciously accepted the support.

Through the patter of rain, he could hear the quick paced sound of boots running. A higher pitched voice called. "Ignis! Gladio!" The footsteps stopped in front of him, and he felt another pair of hands on his back and arm, on the other side. A faint smell of gunpowder alerted him that the person was indeed Prompto.

"Oh, your glasses are cracked", said Prompto. "Are you alright? Your face is bleeding too. Move your hand a bit, let me see..." Fingers reached out to try to pry his hand away.

"N-no, I'm fine," Ignis began, pulling away slightly from the two of them, wobbling unsteadily as his feet slid ever so slightly on the wet stone grip of his two companions tightened around his arms, helping him keep his balance, preventing him from falling. He felt a small tug along his ears, accompanied with the faint weight of his glasses disappearing from above his fingers.

The brunette bristled. "Did you…"

"Just so they don't get covered in blood," came a soft reply.

"And what about Noctis?" He asked.

His question was answered by silence.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The sound was heightened in his darkness.

Ignis shifted uncomfortably again and leaned forwards in the couch, about to bury his face into his hands, but stopped. His fingertips brushed along his injuries, though bandaged, but still raw. The pain from his touch surged through his body, causing the brunette to inhale sharply.

There was a shuffling in the room. The sound of an object being placed onto the table. Footsteps dulled by the carpet. "You okay, Ignis? Take it easy, you're still hurt yourself," commented his deep voiced companion brusquely.

He sighed inwardly again, dropping his left hand to rest on the fabric of the couch between his legs. He pressed his thumb and index finger of his right onto his forehead, careful to not irritate the throbbing ache more than he already had.

"I know, Gladio."

"Do you need anything: a drink? To lie down?"

"No," he replied curtly, unable to mask the pain in his voice.

Feelings of anger and frustration bubbled within him. He was Ignis Scientia, the Prince's right hand man. The one who the King of Lucis counted on to protect his son. He would not be treated with pity like this; as some vulnerable invalid! He shook his head, finally releasing a vocal sigh.

Don't make them worry.

"Sorry. But I'm alright for now."

The rhythmic ticking of the clock in the silence eventually lulled Ignis to sleep.

Ignis awoke to seven chimes of the clock. The tones resonated crisply in the air, remaining for a moment before dissolving away. He groaned softly, tilting his head to the left and right, trying to loosen the tight muscles in his neck and shoulders. He must've fallen asleep with his head down, he reckoned.

"How are you feeling?" rang Prompto from a short distance away. "Sorry I didn't wake you."

"I think it's time to get those changed," he continued. There was a rustling, the sound of a metal box. A yelp, and a clatter. Ignis quickly pressed a hand onto the seat, attempting to lever himself up, but was as quickly stopped. "Aaah, no, no, don't," called the blonde, rushing over to him, gently sitting him back down. "It's okay."

The click of the door caused him to turn to the sound. The scent of food wafted through the air.

"Ah, Gladio, can you…" the voice faded into hushed whispers. He felt a presence before him; the sound of shuffling clothing. Gladio bent down before him, a hand on his shoulder. "Sorry, but bear with me,"

The twenty-two year old nodded and felt the bandages peel gently from his face. He grimaced as the raw wounds burned with the exposure to air. There was a clatter of the medical box opening, and the cool but stinging sensation of ointment being applied. Before long, fresh bandages blanketed his face and lashes yet again.

"All done," announced Gladio, patting the brunette. "And it's also dinnertime, so..."

Gladio leaned Ignis forward, placing a spoon in his right hand. His left was brought to a smooth surface, warm to the touch. "Coffee."

Ignis swallowed thickly, uncomfortable with the amount of attention he had been getting. He was the one who was supposed to be doing all this… this servitude, not the other way around. It bothered him to not be able to do anything on his own.

"Thank you."

The creamy taste of risotto filled his senses. The flavour was undeniable; Fisherman's Risotto, his favourite. He smiled melancholy to himself, hoping the others wouldn't notice. It had to have been ordered especially for him. The three of them ate in silence.

"About my glasses…" Ignis began. The others "hmmed", vocally directing their attention to him. He paused. "Perhaps I'll think it over tonight."

"I'm going to rest, goodnight. I'll be fine on my own."

The brunette pushed himself up, placed a hand on the back of the couch and slowly made his way out of the room. He stopped when fingertips touched plush blankets, and, like a child, he crawled into bed. He tucked his chin against his right shoulder, pulling the blankets to envelop him, careful for them to not cause him any additional pain.

"Along the wall, four steps to the bathroom..." he began to himself. "That's a couch in the sitting room…."

The wounds will heal, he thought, and in time, my eyes will open again.

He was going to - no, he had to - recover. But in the meantime, he'd work to become who he once was, one step at a time.

/

Lily of the valley: symbol of the return of happiness.