Despite not being the usual target audience for chick flicks, Aranea had sat through enough of these movies when she was younger to know the clichés – how supposedly your heart would sing like a bird when you first kissed the man of your dreams; how one would hear the bells tolling in the distance as if announcing the future wedding. She had always scoffed at these ideas – romance? In a world like the one she knew? She would rather die free than be caged and it applied to any sort of relationship.

Like the dragon she carried on her back, she was terribly fond of freedom, of making her own choices and forging her own destiny. It had thrown Aranea into the hands of less than benign men, of course – but life had prepared her enough for these moments. After all, she always said that one didn’t make it alive out of Niflheim by being soft and caring – the empire saw to that and gave her the rough edges that her armor would merely replicate years later.

But she wasn’t made of ice – rather the opposite. The dragoon was a powerful mix of everything that was beautiful and yet out of control: a thunderstorm, a raging wild fire, a tornado. Aranea Highwind was an irresistible force – and Ignis Scientia was her immovable object.

The clash of their weapons against each other marked their first encounter; he had been the obvious strategist of the party, given how the pretty prince screamed for directions and he often seemed capable of guessing her weaknesses. Aranea thought he was just a scholar playing with daggers, way out of his depth – but the way he parried and fought back showed her she was the one in the wrong. Such a fiery devotion in green eyes – such an intensity that clearly told her she wasn’t going to win. Not that time.

That made an impression on her. Upon their next encounters, he further imprinted himself into her memories by showing her the kindness and care she had never experienced firsthand in Niflheim. She was an ally – one worthy of sharing their meals and getting assistance if needed in the battlefield. Ignis personified everything she had deemed to be obsolete and futile – strategy, compassion, responsibility. They couldn’t be more different about their perspectives for life if they tried. Hell, they started it all on opposite sides of the same war.

And yet, somehow, it was for Ignis that she felt herself falling – and if Aranea tried it hard enough, she could trace it all to the exact moment she realized it all: in a world where darkness was all they had and the blue flames of a haven illuminated his permanently scarred face, she knew she loved him. And it was all thanks to the fire he had within.

Ignis had almost given up – blind, robbed of his skill, left out of the most dangerous assignments by his peers due to more pressing matters. And Aranea was the one who found herself teaching him, yelling at him and slapping sense into Ignis when he seemed to be about to call it quits. People often told her she had done a good job in restoring Ignis to his former fighting glory – but she was the first one to brush these remarks aside.

Ignis had done it all. He had rekindled the fire by himself – she had merely helped with a bit of gasoline. But no matter how much fuel she had drenched Ignis in, nothing would ever happen without some sort of spark – and it all exploded when she kissed him one day, fully on the lips, holding onto him like she was drowning he was all the fresh air she needed to survive.

The tension that had surrounded them for so long snapped, like a thread which no longer could be pulled apart. Ignis was like a summer rain to her fire, the hopeful sunshine after a destructive tornado, the calm sea after the storm. Everything in her seemed to come full circle and become meaningful – as if her entire life had somehow led her to that exact moment in his arms, kissing Ignis under a starless night and with the haven fire for light. The way his hands found her waist and pulled her closer felt heavenly, and their shared breath was music to her ears.

“I have loved you for a long, long time Aranea,” his voice was shaky, tainted by raw emotion; but it was firm and genuine, and the woman felt overwhelmed by the intensity of it all – it was like being hit by the aftermath of shock waves, or placed in the middle of the biggest explosion of all time.

It felt like home.

“I know… What?”

@culinarystrategist replied to your post “A Call To Booty”

"I have never been fond of that colour."

Regarding the Hunters:

After much debate, the legislative committee has codified the Hunters' position in our society at present. Going forward, the Hunters will primarily focus their efforts on combat, supporting the Glaives in the field. In addition, the Hunters will continue surveying outposts around the continent, ensuring their safety while procuring and delivering supplies as required.

"I'll need to be wined and dined, at the bare minimum."

Lestallum may be a rather charming little city in Lucis, that charm is greatly reduced when the growing darkness and need for barricades and stronger hunters comes into play. But at least Marjorie had found a place in the town, offering her services in the form of massages for weary hunters, hair washes and cuts to keep everyone clean and hair ready for battle, among other things. Other things including helping with supply distribution, a role she was taking on that day. Most faces she recognized easily, with their frequent visits and knack for remembering names and faces.. but a new face showed itself that day, and she quickly took note. 

“In here,” she replied smoothly, toweling her hair dry - she had just stepped out of the shower and dressed in very light, comfortable clothing - it was blazing hot outside and a magnificent day for the kids to play, as well as a good time to water all the crops they had been growing in the garden - a secret of how everything Ignis cooked apparently tasted so delicious, if the dragoon could guess.

The sound of footsteps announced him before he emerged right out of the bathroom door, probably guessing she had quickly showered by how humid the room was, as well as steamy - the Lucian summer was relentless and Insomnia was too close to the desert-like climate of the Leide region, after all. “It is nothing that can’t wait if you’re busy, I assure you,” he said quietly, but Aranea took one quick glance at her husband and understood what happened - his index finger was gingerly held upwards, a splinter very clearly bothering him.

“I see the garden has been treating you well,” she joked, and immediately started to rummage through their stuff - the sounds of Aranea looking for alcohol and the tweezers was probably all the answers that Ignis needed. When they started living together, she first had the urge to clearly communicate everything to him - but now, a few years in, she had come to realize that Ignis was blind, but not stupid - he was extremely perceptive and his other senses heightened in a way that she sometimes forgot he couldn’t actually see.

“Can you sit by the tub?” she asked him and he promptly followed, making his way perfectly - he had the rooms mapped in his head and she was very cautious not to leave anything in his way - a change from the messy woman she used to be, with clothes and belongings scattered everywhere. The dragoon quickly grabbed everything and sat by his side, guiding him so Ignis could wash his hands using the tub’s nearest faucet, and dried the skin gently.

The woman then sterilized the tweezers and carefully removed it - it had been nothing major, but definitively something hard to do without being able to see it. A quick bandage followed and she couldn’t resist the urge to place a kiss when she was done, smiling like a kid when she was done. “There, all better. I’m sure you’ll be like new tomorrow. My kisses are infallible.” 

Ignis had a smile on his face, his hands feeling around the bandage and deeming it appropriate. “Well, it is true that a maiden kiss can heal a frog curse… But a dragoon kiss, perhaps, is much stronger.”

“Well, it should be - we harpoon shit left and right, we better be good at healing when we miss the target, hm?” she replied with a small laugh while storing the supplies away, seeing her husband grinning through his reflection in the mirror - sometimes, it was hard to believe she was happy with such a domestic, traditional life.

Sometimes, she struggled to believe that Ignis was happy with it too, with Aranea being so far-off from the kind of woman he probably thought he would marry one day.

“Thank you for the impromptu medical aid, Aranea,” he then gently wrapped his arms from behind, perfectly realizing where she was given her previous laugh and the sound of her breathing - amazing skills, really, “How should I repay you?”

His lips found her neck, and she noticed he took the time to inhale and appreciate the soft fragrance of soap on her clean skin. Grinning at their reflection in the bathroom mirror, she tapped on his hands and winked at Ignis, even if he couldn’t see it. “Well, show me to this offending garden. I will have revenge on whatever hurt my husband.”

“Sorry, whose shirt?”