one day the light of love, though it may seem far away

[founderinglight]

Who: Grandpa Sleepy and you!
What: Izunia has some projects catchall!
When: Late march and a couple days into April
Where: vvvvvarious
Warnings: None YET

March 28-April 3, daylight; space between the station and the lighthouse

[Sticking out in his black coat against the outline of the roof, here's Izunia -

And then he suddenly isn't, with an impressive throw of a greatsword that's nearly his own height spinning through the air. It embeds in the ground, kicking up sand, and he follows in a flash of blue before it vanishes. And then again, straight up into the air - and back down with an explosion of sand.

Or perhaps you catch him with a series of... cards? floating in an array around him, before he suddenly sets one to spinning and conjures a burst of water or ice from the ground. Or, rapier in hand, setting fire to the blade in a... mostly controlled manner. Ignore the singed grass.

Either way, it's clear that he's practicing - putting his abilities on full display for probably the first time, aside from that fateful seagull fight. And perhaps a sparring buddy wouldn't be out of the question...?]

April 4th, east laundry, afternoon

[Well, it's not a total mess. But a keen eye will spot Izunia at one of the sinks - for once, sans scarf. In fact, sans shirt entirely. The reason why is clear in what he's bent over - a bit of dark metallic blue dye and a teeshirt that used to be entirely white. Clearly, he didn't want to risk the rest of his clothes getting stained.

And, well, he was right to be worried, considering that there's a streak of the blue dye running up his forearm to the elbow from where he mistakenly leaned it against the edge of the sink as he works. Also, there's that tattoo on his chest - a flock of crows, indeed, an entire murder, flying away from a series of cracks directly over his heart.]

I suppose I should have done a test run, first...

April 4-5th, late evening/early night

[And once the shirt is finished and hung up to dry securely in his room (and a towel streaked with the dye that mostly came off his arm), Izunia settles himself back in the kitchen again. There's the smell of something in the oven - cheese? garlic? - and while he waits for it to finish, he sets with a notebook at one of the bench-style tables. There's an array of sketches (mostly, now, people around the station), a deck of what seems to be metal playing cards, an empty fountain pen, and directly in front of him, a journal written in neat handwriting...

...Completely in what someone from Earth would recognize as Latin. And unlike the majority of writing around the station, this doesn't seem to want to translate if you sneak a peek.

Good luck sneaking up on Izunia, though, because chances are he hears you and closes the notebook when you approach. There's that usual smile in place, but it seems a bit emptier than usual.]

Good evening.

And also the usual places at the usual times

[If those projects don't interest you, perhaps you've caught him somewhere having a nap, or out on the viewing deck some sunrise or sunset? Strange as he is, even he has a routine.]

Comments

[photoshooter]

Oh. I guess I never thought about it that way.

[The Founder King just sort of didn't really exist before he was running around slaying daemons and fighting for the gods and stuff, as far as young Prompto was concerned. Prompto pokes at the tabletop.]

Were you good at it? Cooking, I mean. Obviously you were okay at taking care of yourself, I mean, you're here, aren't you?

[founderinglight]

[He very definitely existed before all the king-being and the daemon-slaying and the paperwork.]

I'm passable, I think. No professional, but well enough that I never had to live off canned goods and take-out.

[photoshooter]

Ahaha...

[Just @ him next time!]

I mean, I'm okay at a basic salad, mostly...

[founderinglight]

...Which, painfully, still puts you out ahead of many of the others around here. I'm come out of my room to the smell of smoke more times than I'd like.

[Also whatever the heck Violet managed with those eggs.]

[photoshooter]

...That's really, really sad. I mean, I guess a lot of the people here are still kids, but...

[They should not be Worse Than Prompto at a basic skill, essentially.]

[founderinglight]

It's painful and nearly makes me regret having a room so close to the kitchens.

[He loves you guys but. Like. Leave the cooking to him, Akira, and Coriander?]

[photoshooter]

I guess some people might be from worlds that don't... have the same kind of kitchen technology? Stone never even heard of donuts before.

[But Stone has also, you know, not set the kitchen on fire.]

[founderinglight]

I'm not entirely sure Stone had a secure concept of 'a kitchen' before this, it doesn't seem to be something his species does. Don't think we can count that one.

[photoshooter]

Right. So that seems to leave us with kids, Robin and Wren, and...

[...His brain skitters right off the word 'daemons.' He doesn't even want to think it.]

...Other people who aren't human. So they probably don't cook the same way, if they do at all. [Prompto resumes kicking his legs under the table.] Maybe Noct can be a sushi chef again. And I can try to learn to make something, I guess...

[founderinglight]

Jetshard's diet is similar enough to ours, save that apparently trolls get drunk off fructose. I'm fairly sure some of the things in the fridge originate from her world, or else a closely related one that also has trolls as the dominant species.

[Speaking of food, the timer on the stove dings loudly. Izunia shuffles his papers into a pile and into the Armiger they go, leaving the table clear.]

And Nathaniel is close enough to your age. Most of the rest are certainly kids, though. Even the ones who seem like they should be older.

[photoshooter]

Right, well, Nathaniel's smart enough not to set things on fire. I dunno if he cooks, though. Maybe some of his Pokémon do?

[Prompto looks at the dinging kitchen appliances with clear interest, then hops up.]

I'll get plates and silverware!

[Nyoom.]

[founderinglight]

[nyoom you go, quickboy, while Izunia turns off the oven before pulling the steaming cheese-and-potato dish from the oven. The smell in the room immediately intensifies.]

I'm not sure I've ever seen him out here, but he does mostly keep to himself. Grab one of those serving spatulas while you're over there, please.

[photoshooter]

I mean, he's kind of shy, I guess, but I don't think he's unfriendly. ...Is there a difference between a serving spatula and a regular spatula?

[Prompto does not appear to be aware of the possibility people could be friendlier with him than with others.]

[founderinglight]

Think burger-flipping style.

[That's ok, Prompto, you're a fluffy bean and you deserve to stay that way.]

[photoshooter]

Uhhhh.

[He picks up a spatula and shows it to Izunia.]

This work?

[founderinglight]

It'll do.

[We're going. to teach you your way around a kitchen later, Prompto, but for now we have food to eat.]

[photoshooter]

[He brings the utensils and plates over to Izunia and taps the toe of his boot behind him, ready for POTATO.]

How long did this take to make, anyway? Was it hard?

[founderinglight]

Not too long - I can't give an exact estimate, my sense of time is till recovering from anything less than a decade being a meaningless flash.

[He's two thousand years old, do you really expect him to be good at keeping track of minutes? That's why he set up a timer in the first place.

He serves up a heap of the cheesy potatos without pepper flakes and sets it where Prompto can grab it before dishing up for himself.]

It's not too terribly difficult, though. One of the things that's easy to modify based on what you like. Ham, tomatoes, a bit of green onion...

[photoshooter]

[Prompto snorts a little, opens a cabinet to look for the pepper flakes, and adds some to his own. Just because the thousand suns curry was too much for him doesn't mean he's a baby.]

That sounds amazing. Don't tell Noct about the onion, though.

[He grabs a mismatched pair of glasses too and fills one with water.]

You want water too, Zuzu?

[founderinglight]

Honestly, a bit of green isn't going to kill him...

[Yeah but Izunia's side is probably still too spicy for him, lbr.]

I've a couple sodas in my Armiger still, I'm fine.

[photoshooter]

You shouldn't have soda so late at night, you know. The sugar'll make your dreams weird.

[But he shuts off the water and just brings his things and Izunia's empty glass to the table.]

[founderinglight]

Merely 'weird' would be an improvement.

[You already know he doesn't sleep well, Prompto, this isn't news. Izunia follows over with his plate before decaptchaloguing an orange soda and pouring it into his glass.]

[photoshooter]

Weirder.

[He spears a bit of potato on his fork, puts it in his mouth, yelps, blows on it, and tries again.]

Mm... mmm! Mmfgoohm!

[Thumbs up, Grandpa.]

[founderinglight]

[The thumbs up is acceptable and gets a smile. Izunia works on his portion at, you know, a more reasonable pace than the hungry twenty year old.]

[photoshooter]

[Prompto does at least slow down enough to let the hot potatoes cool a bit before popping more in his mouth.]

So what were you doing when I came in, anyway? Drawing more?