[ He's not so stupid as to think he can avoid being detected for forever. Moving constantly is out of the question; he's unable to do it without being able to see and relying on the kindness of others isn't quite what he wants to do. No, he settles at an outpost in a border city and keeps to himself. There aren't many men with scars like his, and a blind man performing hunts isn't exactly something that is normal, but it isn't as if he can hold a normal job, either.
In a way, it's just a countdown until one of them finds him. He remembers enough to know that they'll try; there's memories that he hasn't been able to latch onto but knows are there. Moments where he'll take a drink of Ebony and remember the wind on his face, or telling Prompto to keep his eyes on the road. Moments where it's all the more clear Ardyn was a liar and a manipulator, not worthy of the air he used to speak his lies. Moments where he's fighting and for a moment, it feels as if others should be there and he feels lacking, like he's missing something huge and important while alone. The memories coalesce into something sturdy enough for him to realize that Noctis spoke the truth, that they were all a team, back in the years before and that meant Ignis had spent ten long years trying to kill the very people he'd loved.
It's an impossible pill to swallow. He distracts himself when he's not hunting, listening to audio books on politics, on a thousand subjects that he knew intimately and now feels like he's relearning. He cooks, nothing fancy but remembers testing new recipes out, remembers the warmth of a campfire and loud laughter as they sat around it.
He waits.
Eventually, the day comes. He lets himself into the apartment and stills in an instant, knowing someone's there. That flicker of something, of magic, of connection flares bright inside his chest and for a moment everything is in reach - his mind knows Noctis, knows the feel of that magic and he aches for it, almost. The ring he'd worn had burned scars into his body and while he didn't remember how he got them, he remembered enough to ache for the loss of the power, the connection to the king-to-be.
Nonchalant, or as close as he can come to it with his chest tight, stomach twisting into knots, Ignis walks into his kitchen and slides his jacket off. ]
Breaking and entering. Not terribly regal behavior.
no subject
In a way, it's just a countdown until one of them finds him. He remembers enough to know that they'll try; there's memories that he hasn't been able to latch onto but knows are there. Moments where he'll take a drink of Ebony and remember the wind on his face, or telling Prompto to keep his eyes on the road. Moments where it's all the more clear Ardyn was a liar and a manipulator, not worthy of the air he used to speak his lies. Moments where he's fighting and for a moment, it feels as if others should be there and he feels lacking, like he's missing something huge and important while alone. The memories coalesce into something sturdy enough for him to realize that Noctis spoke the truth, that they were all a team, back in the years before and that meant Ignis had spent ten long years trying to kill the very people he'd loved.
It's an impossible pill to swallow. He distracts himself when he's not hunting, listening to audio books on politics, on a thousand subjects that he knew intimately and now feels like he's relearning. He cooks, nothing fancy but remembers testing new recipes out, remembers the warmth of a campfire and loud laughter as they sat around it.
He waits.
Eventually, the day comes. He lets himself into the apartment and stills in an instant, knowing someone's there. That flicker of something, of magic, of connection flares bright inside his chest and for a moment everything is in reach - his mind knows Noctis, knows the feel of that magic and he aches for it, almost. The ring he'd worn had burned scars into his body and while he didn't remember how he got them, he remembered enough to ache for the loss of the power, the connection to the king-to-be.
Nonchalant, or as close as he can come to it with his chest tight, stomach twisting into knots, Ignis walks into his kitchen and slides his jacket off. ]
Breaking and entering. Not terribly regal behavior.