fandomtownies | Luke's Diner; Tuesday [11/12].

"What do you mean," Ignis asked, brows furrowed at Greg, as they so often were, when he came in that morning, before he'd even poured his first cup of coffee (at the diner), which was just rude and a terrible faux pas on his coworker's part, "I can only make soup?"

Apparently, the island decided to turn everything they were whipping up in the diner's kitchen that day into soup. With the exception, thank the gods, of the coffee, although Greg did point out in his explanation that wasn't coffee just essentially bean broth?

That was when Ignis decided that he was just not going to listen to Greg any more that day if he could help it, and if he was going to be forced to make soup, he would make soup with intention.

At least it was the season for it, and not, gods forbid, in the high heat of the summertime, or else he'd have to get truly creative with some gazpachos.

Today's Specials
Tuscan Ribollita Soup
Spinach White Bean Soup
Taro Coconut Sago

Luke's is ~~soupy!~~ open!

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There was a slight chill in the air which, if you asked Liliana anyway, more than merited a new addition to her wardrobe. The fact that it accentuated her new necklace, was hardly an accident - the necklace had been bought with her preferred necklines in mind. The fact that said gown had a texture to it that felt nice to rub one's hands over...well, that also was not an accident, though it had not been her hands Liliana had been considering when discussing fabrics with the dressmaker.

She swept into Luke's like it was any other day. If the staff had been hoping that last week's ebullient mood would continue and have Liliana greeting them by name again, they would be vastly disappointed; she was, once again gliding by without a word. Not because she was any less happy this week than last, but simply because her full attention was fixed upon the figure behind the counter, coffee cup in hand, handsome countenance partially hidden behind his glasses. She was aware that she walked through the miasma of patchouli that meant Greg was nearby, she heard the jingle of silverware that was Ali practically leaping out of her way, but she had a great deal of experience ignoring lesser distractions to remain fixed on her goal.

Could he feel the intensity of her gaze as she approached? She bet he could.

Oh, and that was a bet that she would win without question. Liliana's presence was a formidable, unignorable force by merit of her mere existence, but when she'd set her determined focus on something? There was no hope. He would be astounded if anyone could managed to escape its undeniable existence. He pitied poor Ali for having the misfortune of having been in her way, and he was grateful for that coffee mug still in his hand, though, surely, there was nothing like smug satisfaction there in the shape of his lips that he'd be hiding in a sip.

Ignis was merely bolstered himself with his precious caffeine, to prepare for the stormfront moving in with unforgiving relentlessness.

One more sip, then, before setting the mug aside, and moving to meet her on the other side of the counter.

With nothing to shield that faint smile now.

"'Iana..."

Greetings were for other people. She had something far more important to be doing with her mouth.

Liliana surged into his personal space--forget Venus in her clamshell, Liliana was the sea that bore the shell to shore, vast and stormy, full of mystery and secrets, so much more than even a mere singular goddess every could be. All that she was crashed into Ignis, even though nothing more than her hands touched him, cupping his face, holding him still to bring her mouth to his in a deep, hungry, aching kiss.

It was not gentle. It was not slow. It was not sweet.

She kissed him as the sea would: rough and dark, heavy and claiming. What the sea called its own, it kept forever, brought down to the chill depths of its heart, and she kissed him like that still could not possibly be enough.

And only then, once the riptide of her kiss had finally let him go, did she murmur, "Hello, my 'Nys."

In all of his machinations and scheming, all his strategic and tactical ways, all of his smug smirks hidden in coffee mug, Ignis had anticipated the fruition of his clever little spark of inspiration, after yesterday's lunch to go well-rewarded. He had expected Liliana to appreciate his thoughtfulness, the sneaky stealth of his industry, the unexpected and willing loosening of purse strings and the with in the complex beauty of the poetry of their neverending waltz.

He had not quite expect all that.

But, oh, when those waves crashed into him, did he give himself to that tsunami entirely, letting it sweep him in, drag him under, carry him to those deepest depths. What would be the point in resisting, anyway? Why would he want to? Why would he want anything but to be completely subsumed by these unrelenting waters.

When he finally was able to resurface again, however reluctantly, however unfortunately necessarily, he was as breathless as if he had been drowning. The color was high on his cheeks, flushed and burning, and his tongue seemed utterly incapable of forming words for a moment, as if protesting the notion of being put to use for anything but kissing her more.

He cleared his throat, though, as if that might manage to push them out. It did, but they came out thin, dazed, as if still wavering down there in the depths of their passion.

"I take it," he said, "that you managed to find my gift?"

"Oh, there was a gift?" Liliana asked, innocently. "You don't think that might have just been because I missed you?"

And then she laughed, guiding his hand up the velvety expanse of her bodice up to her décolletage and the necklace that did its best to cover that expanse of skin with gemstones like a scattering of kisses, as someone might poetically put it. "I thought perhaps it might be like my lyre," she teased. "Left by mistake and now too late to take back as I have already claimed it as my very own."

Edited 2024-11-12 20:12 (UTC)

Now that had been more in line with his calculations, but it should be very known that Ignis didn't feel bad for having missed his mark in that regard in the slightest.

"I assure you," he said, that confidence in his voice finally making it to the surface with his grin, as he let Liliana guide his hand to the gemstones now there against her cold skin, though his fingers seemed less interested in them at the more and sought more of what lied underneath, "it was every bit as intentional as each and every one of the marks that inspire it."

His fingers dipped a little lower, too, past the drape of stones, to the edge of her dress' bodice, toying with the soft crush of fabric there was an additional approving lift on the corner of his mouth.

He did, very consistently, underestimate his impact, it was true.

"I do so enjoy wearing both," she purred, leaning a bit closer so he would not feel inclined to hurry his explorations along in the slightest. "Hmm, perhaps I should start considering what accessorizes well with the marks my nails leave along your back."

And she could hardly mention those without dragging one down his spine...protected, of course, from any such markings by the fabric of his shirt.

Luke's Diner; Tuesday [11/12].

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