Izunia Lucis Caelum (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
founderinglight) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
phantasmalrift2018-04-06 03:57 pm
founderinglight) wrote in phantasmalrift2018-04-06 03:57 pm
one day the light of love, though it may seem far away
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.]
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.]
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I carry a mundane blade as well, because manifesting the Royal Arms is exhausting to do in any kind of protracted battle, but I have plenty of stamina for an hour or two of practice each day.
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[He shifts the blade, looking at it thoughtfully.]
I should probably see if I can pick up more from him.
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[She just takes a moment to process that. She's BFFs with a royal herself and all he's got is one legendary sword. No hammerspace to keep it in either.]
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[Cheerfully fond.]
You should see if you can get Noctis to conjure his full Armiger if you get a chance - with only three weapons, mine isn't terribly impressive at the moment.
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[She would contest the notion that manifesting "only" three magical weapons from thin air is somehow unimpressive, but that horse is pretty thoroughly beaten at this point.]
So, Noctis is your...?
[While they're obviously both part of the same royal line — and Wren would be lying if she said she didn't feel at all gratified to know that her hunch about Izunia was on the mark — she's curious about their precise relation.]
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Oh - it's too distant a relation for standard terminology. I'm the Founder, he's CXIV.
[He's not going to stand here and recite 100+ greats for you, Wren, and anyway you'd lose count.]
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Oh, I had no idea I was in such illustrious company!
[It's a jocular remark, but the underlying sentiment is sincere. To have founded a kingdom that lasted over a hundred generations? He must be as legendary a figure in his homeworld as the Hero-King Marth is in her own...]
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