#mutant!au

-He loves to play with a zippo he personalized with the colors of the Rome soccer team. Sometimes he swears that the fire seems to increase if he stares at it too much and every time he tries to touch it, he never seems to burn. 

- “Why do you have a zippo if you don’t smoke” “ Fatte i cazzi tuoi”

- He manages to join a small band as a singer but this gets him the wrong attention from a local bully who thinks Damiano is flirting with his girlfriend.

- “Stay away from my girl or I’ll beat you to death” “You shouldn’t play with fire.”

- The other man’s cigarette sparks so violently that fire starts to wrap his sleeve. Damiano flees away before anyone can catch him.

-He rushes to his room and  under his bed to pick up his mother's box, where he finds a small note “You’re a mutant, just like me. Call this number if you are in danger.”

- He dials the number and packs his things and starts walking through the streets of Rome. Quickly he sees his mother and an old man on a wheelchair who invite him to follow them. It takes a while for him to trust his mom again, he still feels betrayed and abandoned by her even when she explains to him that he had to leave him for his safety. 

- Damiano’s power allows him to control but not to create fire. He always needs an external source of fire but he can shape it, increase and decrease intensity along with being immune to burns and he can sense any usable fire in his psionic vicinity.

- Controlling his power proves to be harder than he thought, sometimes the flames seem too big and other times they seem to ignore him. He spends most of his training in a fireproof room, along with all his other classmates with energy/ fire based powers.

- Hot headed isn’t even enough to describe his personality. He tends to pick up fights especially with the humans, often making his mom threaten to take his privilege to visit the city away from him.

-“Your anger is your biggest strength but also your biggest weakness. If you don't control it, it will control you” His mother often repeats him. “Maybe I wouldn't be so angry if you didn't leave me with dad!”

- Damino starts working in a music shop while his music career is on an hiatus. Quickly the place becomes quite known between mutants, so much that he comes up with a secret code to allow mutants to ask for help.

- “Really? Gasoline by Moonlight?” “What? It will be a great name for my future band!”

- Once his powers are stable enough, he gets to accompany his mother in his first mission : collect a runaway who was kicked out by his parents. He has just to provide a familiar face, a kid like him to trust, however the police get involved and Damiano reacts. 

- His fire meets a hard surface and all the bullets fall to the ground. He and the new kid exchange looks, completely surprised by the other's power : fire and ice that instead of fighting are collaborating. 

- “Ethan, right? This is Damiano, my son, we are here to take you to a safe place” His mom explained. “ I need to go back to take my drumsticks! They are all I have. ” Ethan panicked. 

The experiment ended with a bang. Sparks flew. Lightning flashed. Equipment exploded. The death toll numbered in the double digits, but the subject survived. If she stabilized, the cost would be justified, but her vitals were falling. Scientist, doctors, and military personal convene in a dark room. The only light came from a lamp that swung above a table littered with files and reports. The officials crowded the table, arguing over the information and the possibility of failure. Accusations flew across the table as everyone prepared to settle blame on a shoulder other than theirs.

The building where the officials argued sits on one side of an elaborate compound. On the other side of the compound, the guards at the security gate review the credentials of a newly arrived soldier. Kyungsoo stands at attention as he awaits instruction. When his commander requested a protection detail for a civilian contractor, the lackluster response from his unit had prompted him to volunteer. The assignment was simple: stand outside a door, apprehend anyone without a security badge who attempted to enter, and ask no questions. He would be on duty for a week until the private security detail arrived.

The guards return and motion for Kyungsoo to follow. They go out to a waiting jeep. Once he situates himself in the passenger seat, the driver speeds off through the compound’s maze. The jeep screeches to a halt in front of a squat building, which marks the center of the complex. White walls glisten in the moon light. Nothing adorns them, giving no indication to what lies behind. Doors whoosh open releasing a waft of cool air. Alcohol burns Kyungsoo’s nostrils as he enters. At the front desk, nurses spare him a brief glance before returning to their work. Doctors in lab coats walk past him as his guide leads him down hallways. No one stops them, and soon, they see no one. Reaching their destination, a steel door with a security pad, his guide swipes a badge and opens the door for him. A long white hallway leads to nowhere. Halfway down the hall stands the day watch, another soldier from his unit. Kyungsoo salutes the man and relives him of duty. Crossing his wrists behind his back, Kyungsoo assumes his post. Behind the door, you lay on a twin size bed in the center of an empty room. Cameras blink at you from each corner. Your covers, thrown off during a fit, lay on the floor, leaving the cameras a clear view of the orange and red ripples cascading across your skin. Tubes and wires connect you to the machines standing watch over you. They beep about your status as they attempt to stabilize you with the cocktail of drugs the doctors and scientists prepared. The cameras watch as the ripples thicken until red stains your skin. The monitors' beeping quickens until they are screeching. A scream rips from your throat, joining the cacophony in the room. Your body convulses, back arching, as a wave of energy bursts from you. The machines surge, sparks flying and screens fizzling. The cameras explode on their mounts. The lights flare until the bulbs pop. For a moment, the room rests in darkness; the only sound your whimpers. Standing on the other side of the door, Kyungsoo heard the scream. His legs shook as the wave passed through. Darkness engulfed him until the emergency lights flashed, bathing the hallway in red. Turning to face the door, his hand goes to his weapon. The door creaks open. Whimpers leak out. Kyungsoo straightens. His gaze drifts down the hall, expecting doctors, guards, anyone to dash down. No one comes. The volume increases to a scream, though nowhere near the level of the first. Stepping forward, he inches the door open. Despite the distance, he can see the way your body convulses. Curiosity and concern draw him closer. The red glow of your skin, he thought was an effect of the emergency lights, but as he stands over you, he realizes his mistake. This close he can see the orange waves which ripple through the red. As they pass, the muscles and tendons become visible. His hand hovers over your arm, tracing the wake of the wave. His fingertip brushes your skin. The touch is light, the contact brief, but it sears itself into his memory. His heart races. His lungs expand. The world around him comes to life bathed in the brightest colors. They swirl in the shapes of the people who scramble beyond the buildings wall. Color flares to life as a cigarette is lit across the compound. He can see it all, feel it all. The moment ends, and the world settles back to gray, highlighted by the red of the emergency lights. Even your skin has leached to gray. Your eyes open, meeting his. "Leave." You rasp. "Before they come."  The words claw at the air and your chest heaves from the effort. Kyungsoo nods. He saw them coming too. When the doctors and guards arrive, they find him standing before a closed door. Only minutes have passed since the power surge, but to him a lifetime has. At the meeting of doctors, scientists, and generals, a messenger arrives. A hush falls over the assembled after he announces the subject has stabilized.

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The next day, you wake to a clear world and the absence of pain. The moment flees before you can enjoy it. Scientists and doctors arrive. They allowed you the night to sleep, but the dawn brings testing. They collect blood, fluids, skin cells. They hook you to machines to monitor heart rate and brain activity. The energy radiating from your body interferes with most of the machines, but they don't seem to mind. They can figure out how you stabilized later. You remain silent about the previous night's event.

The military professionals want to begin testing your abilities. The doctors say your body is still adjusting, and they shouldn't push you too far. The scientist sit on the fence. At the end of the day when your skin tinges red and the orange ripples return, they send you back to your room. They want to send someone in the room with you to monitor you through the night as they have yet to replace the cameras. Much discussion ensues. In the end though, you return alone. Energy burns beneath your skin. You breathe through the pain and try to focus on anything else. Throughout the day, as they dragged you from lab to lab, energy found you. The machines leaked waste energy, people too. It would seep into your skin. Smaller pieces, you found you could turn away. Large blasts seared your skin and left you gasping. Alone in your room, you try to shed that excess energy. Sweat breaks out across your forehead, and you gasp as you double over. Your vision clouds with an orange haze as your stomach threatens to heave its meager contents. The energy outside your room increases and decreases with the changing of the guard. The new guard feels the same as the one from last night. The red and orange of his heat are visible despite the wall which separates you two. Your skin itches to touch him, the memory of the previous night heady in your mind. Another wave of nausea doubles you again. The door creaks open under your hand. The guard turns to face you. His features swim in and out of focus. "I know this is an odd request." You rasp as you support yourself on the door frame. "But can I touch you?" He hesitates, and your knees nearly buckle from the pain. "No worries." You force a smile. "I won't touch you without your permission." Stepping back allows the door to inch close. "If it helps," through the crack in the door, you can see his hand rise, "you can touch me.” Releasing the door, it swings open. You reach out, brushing your fingertips against his. The relief is instantaneous. Energy drains from your body, leaving you yourself once more. Breathing with ease, you chuckle as tears prick at your eyes. “Thank you…” The gratitude stutters to an end as your senses return, and with them come the reality of how odd the current situation is. This man has saved you twice, and in your mind he is only the night guard. “Do Kyungsoo.” He offers as his arm moves behind his back, and he returns to attention. You nod. “Thank you, Do Kyungsoo. I’m…” At one point, you had a name, but agreeing to become a lab rat means you give up on certain rights. “They call me Project Omicron-Tau-Nine, OT9 for short.” He blinks, his only response to the situation.  Resting your head against the door frame, you allow a moments observation. In your orange haze, you had taken him as one of the many private security guards, but his uniform bares the flag of his country. “You’re military.” He nods. “Does the military have official involvement now?” He gives a slow shake of his head, but the confusion in his eyes is answer enough. “We received a request for security assistance while you await replacements. I’m stationed-” A dull roar fills your ears as you remember the moment so much energy lost its form. The memories steal the last of your strength. You tumble towards the ground, but arms wrap around you, keeping you aloft. Shifting an arm beneath your legs, he scoops you up and carries you to your bed. “I’ll go get someone.” You clutch his sleeve. “No.” Your eyes burn with unshed tears, but you hold him in your grasp. He has to listen to you. “They can’t know about you. You’ll end up the same as them.” He nods slowly, and your grip loosens. “Sorry.” You mumble as you settle beneath your covers. “As you can probably tell, I’m not normal.” “I should let you sleep.”  His eyes travel the length of your body, and you wish you could stop yourself from shaking. “Before you go, last night,” you glance up at him. His jaw tightens and his eyes grow wide. “I don’t want to talk about that. It’s just… they took you in for questioning, right?” He nods. “What did you tell them?” “I was standing outside the door when the earthquake happened. The emergency lights started flashing and that’s when everyone showed up.” “They don’t know you were in here or what you did?” He shakes his head. “Good. For your safety, they can never know.” He nods his understanding before backing out of the room. The door clicks shut behind him, and you settle into bed. Memories haunt you, and energy clings to you, but your weary body looses its grip on consciousness. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Testing continues. Today, though they want to test your abilities, specifically how your abilities affect your body. They outfit you with a neural cap and place enough wires and transmitters on your body to qualify you for cyborg status. The testing begins. They place a battery in front of you. You drain it and the camera recording the test. You charge the battery. It explodes along with the new camera they brought in. They blind fold you. You tell them twenty people are in the room with you. Four are in the room with you. The other sixteen are within forty feet of the room. After each test, you can feel the flurry of movement in the room behind you. They chatter to one another. You try to coax the sound waves to come to you, but they get lost in the rush of energy heeding your call. The tests continue until orange creeps across your skin and exhaustion weighs down your shoulders. They allow you to return alone again. You know when Kyungsoo arrives. He stands back straight, no fidgeting, no glancing back. You ignore him, curling up on your bed as you fight off the never ending onslaught of energy. It seeps through the windows, the vents, any crack or crevice and creeps up your skin, burning everything it touches. Breathing through the pain, you force the energy away, but it continues to come. Your strength falters. Traversing the room, you open the door. Kyungsoo turns, his first movement since he assumed his post. Before you can ask, he raises a hand. The pain eases, and you release a weary sigh. He steps forward, but you wave him away. You won't collapse today. Instead, you lower yourself, sliding down the door frame. Kyungsoo glances from you to the door at the end of the hallway. "No one's coming. You know that." You cock a brow at him and he nods. "If anyone does come, I'll know. I doubt they will though. All the cameras are still broken, and as long as I don't release any more energy waves, they won't have a reason to check on me. Can I just sit here for a little bit?" He swallows but nods, resuming his position. "Does all of this scare you? Do I scare you?" Your heart races with the question, but you can't feel any increase in energy. Kyungsoo pauses. Glancing over his shoulder, he meets your gaze. Your heart settles as he shakes his head. His attention returns to the wall across from him. "Odd. Even before the experiment, everyone here gave me a wide birth. Now..." You pause as you think back on the past few days. "Nobody really looks at me. They avoid me entirely if they can. I understand though. After all the final phase of the experiment ended-" Catching yourself before you over share, you clear your throat. If he’s intrigued by your slip, his posture hides it. He remains a statue before you. "How long have you been a soldier?" You steer the conversation away from yourself. "A couple of months." You snort, drawing his attention to you. "Is that why you're so serious about it?" "If you're going to do a job, do it well." You nod, playing with the hem of your shirt. A string has come loose. You tug at it, snagging the fabric. "Why did you become a soldier?" His eyes no longer stare at you, but you catch his lashes flickering at the question. "All men are required to serve two years in the military." "Then you'll return to your real life?" You wrap the string around your finger. He nods. "That's good. You have a family waiting for you?" The string snaps. He nods again. "Would you tell me about them?" You twirl the broken string between your fingers.It burst into a flame. Kyungsoo shouts, swatting the string away from you, but the fire is already out. The energy reabsorbed into your skin. He glances from you to the charred remains. You stare at them too. "Sorry." You whisper, drawing his gaze back to you. "I'm still getting used to this." You hold up your hand. It glows orange as you fill it with the excess bits energy drifting around your body. The color fades as you release the energy. Kyungsoo's throat bobs. Questions burn in his eyes, but he remains silent. "They ordered you not to ask questions?" He nods. "Makes sense. I'm surprised you have the will power to follow the order. Or maybe you’re just not curious?" He remains silent. "Well," you sigh, "I should probably get to bed. Tomorrow will be another long day of testing. Thank you, Kyungsoo." As you start to stand, his hand appears before you. "It's okay. I made myself orange that time." "I'm helping you up." His face is stone, but pink tinges the tips of his ears. With hesitation, you place your hand in his. Both of you wait, watching your hands. Nothing happens. Kyungsoo pulls you up. His hand leaves yours the moment you're on your feet. He steps back and nods. "Goodnight." "Goodnight." You reply, fingers curling into your palm. Stepping into your room, you let the door close behind you. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Day three after stabilizing brings psychological testing. They test your cognitive ability and personality. They want to ensure you pose no threat to them and are the malleable weapon they created you to be. Your intelligence is the same level as before the experiment as are your reasoning skills. After the testing comes, your psychological evaluation. They shuffle you in a room with a psychologist. A camera records your interaction. She administers the personality test, and from her reaction you garner, your responses are pleasing. With that concern out of the way, she delves into the events of the night you stabilized because in the end the true goal of their experimentation is replication. For several moments, you sit in silence as you try to fit the experience into words. "Imagine you're in a room with no doors or windows, but on each wall there's a floodgate." You start. "In a moment, all the floodgates open and water rushes into the room. Before you can blink, you're drowning. There's no up or down. There's only water. That was the aftermath of the last experiment." The psychologist nods, scratching notes in her files. "Now, you're floating in the room with absolute certainty that you're going to die, then a drain appears. Water still rushes from the floodgates, but it drains as quickly as it enters. With the drain, you have time to close the floodgates. That was the night I stabilized." "What caused the drain?" "I don't know." She glances up from her notes but finds no clues in your expression as to the cause. She asks more questions. You sit in the room for hours. Your mouth goes dry, and energy crackles across your skin. When the psychologist begins to wilt, they call an end to the session. They send you back to your room to rest. Rest is a distant hope for you. Questions fill your mind. Some are those asked by the psychologist. Others follow a path from those questions. Kyungsoo sits in the back of the transport truck. Closing his eyes, he rests his head against the wall and breathes as he prepares himself for the night ahead. Throughout the day his mind slips back to the moments he's spent with you. That first day he had lived in the memory of the night before. His skinned tingled with remembered energy, and the world would shift into the bright neon of the energy world. He had worried about you, wondering what would happen to someone who experienced constantly what he had known for a moment. When you had come to the door that second night, his heart leapt and fell. He doubted his ability to help for a second time, but your confidence or perhaps desperation had prompted him to action. The rush of energy had paled in comparison to that first night, but without the onslaught, he had felt the sense of you. Even now, as the truck pulls through the gates of the facility, he can feel you. Your energy is calmer than the night before. As he shifts from the transport truck to the waiting jeep, the guards give him a wide berth. Everyone on the compound does. No one believes he has anything to do with what happened that night. His interrogation was more formality than inquisition. But, they still treat him as if his proximity to you has left him tainted. He appreciates the distance. Entering your building, he breathes to calm his heart which races in response to your nearness. He salutes the day guard, relieving him of duty, and assumes the post outside your door. He stands perfectly still while every nerve in his body strains towards you. The door remains closed, and your body lies inactive. He sighs ready to accept that today his watch will go uninterrupted, but then he feels it. You’re moving. You’re standing on the other side of the door. His body screams in response, but he closes his eyes, focusing on his breathing. The door creaks open. Turning, he finds you standing your face half hidden by the door. He reaches towards you, but you wave it away. The door opens further. Kyungsoo faces forward again. His nerves tingle in response to your presence, the feeling soothing. “What did you do before you joined the military?” The question surprises him, and the response comes without thought. “I worked in entertainment.” “Did you ever participate in a random experiment for extra cash?” While you attempt nonchalance, he can hear the undercurrent of inquisition. “No.” His response resembles a grunt more than a word. He clears his throat, rolling his shoulders back. Silence radiates from you, and his neck aches as he fights the urge to glance back at you. “They asked me today how I was able to stabilize.” You finally say. “After all their tests, they couldn’t figure it out, so they decided to ask.” He loses the struggle. His gaze strays. You have resumed your position from the night before. Knees pulled to your chest, you sit lost in thought. You pick at the frayed edge of your sweater. Memories from the night before drift in. His hands twitch, but he keeps them by his side. His eyes slide from your hands to your face where the skin clings to your bones. Dark circles smear the underside of your eyes, making them appear sunken into your face. You are more skeleton than girl. His mind tries to fill in your cheeks to find the girl you once were. “I told them I didn’t know.” Your words bring his attention back to the conversation. When you glance up at him, his gaze snaps back to the wall. “It’s not a lie. I know you can pull excess energy from me, but I don’t know how or why. You don’t have any ideas?” He remains at attention but gives a small shake of his head. You sigh, and he fights the urge to glance back at you. “Do you have any cards?” “What?” The question breaks his resolve, and his whole body turns to face you. Your lips disappears into your mouth, but soon reappear as a smile breaks across your face. The smile transforms you, and his mind is able to piece together more of who you once were. “I have a lot more questions, but I doubt you’ll have the answers, and rather than ask pointless questions,” you lean forward resting your chin on your knees. “I figured I could take my mind off them with a game of cards.” “I don’t have any.” Disappointment creeps into his voice, and he wonders from where it came. As your face falls and you slump back against the wall, the answer to his questions knocks on his conscious, but he shoves it back into the recesses of his mind. “Oh well.” You clear your throat and brush at non-existent crumbs on your knees. “It was worth a shot.” With a groan, you push yourself up. Kyungsoo’s fingers itch to help, but the moment is lost. When you begin to stretch, he averts his gaze, but the peek of skin above your waste band draws him back. Thin, pale scars criss-cross your stomach, disappearing under your sweater. You clear your throat. Kyungsoo’s cheeks flame. “I, uh…” He meets your eyes and glances away to stare at the wall, the floor, anything that isn’t you. You laugh full-bodied, doubling over laughter, and even though blood rushes through his ears, the sound is crisp and comforting. At a loss for an anchor for his eyes, he glues them to his feet. Your laughter dies, and in its absence comes your question. “You really won’t ask?” He shakes his head, his gaze remaining on his feet. He wants to know who you are, why you’re here, what they did to you. The questions keep him up at night. They follow him throughout the day. When he’s this close to you, they burn his tongue, but he swallows them and maintains his silence. “I don’t know if I respect you or resent you.” You chuckle. “I need to sleep. Training begins in full tomorrow.” The door closes behind him, and he breathes easy as his questions release their grip on his throat. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Training involves you sitting in the center of an empty warehouse surrounded by darkness. You must pull in waste energy and send it into the lights before you. Gathering the energy is easy. Energy seeks you out, clinging to your skin. You open the flood gates, and it rushes in, drowning you in the onslaught. Slamming the door on the flood gates, you throw the energy out before it can consume you. The lights blaze and burst. You sit panting, heart racing. The hairs on your arm stand on end.

They come in, switch the bulbs, and make you try again. All day, you absorb and release. The outcome remains the same, the bulbs shatter. After checking vitals and taking another round of samples, they send you back to your room. They say nothing about your failures or give you any indication about the next day’s task. Everything aches. Lingering energy prickles across your body making all contact painful. You would gladly lay naked in a sensory deprivation tank if it meant an end to the pain. Absent that option, you lay motionless in bed, waiting. Kyungsoo arrives, and you jump off your bed. Standing at the door, you count the seconds it takes to complete the changing of the guard. The day guard finally leaves, and you throw open the door. “I need your hand.” The statement was unnecessary. Kyungsoo’s hand is waiting. You brush your fingertips along his and sigh with relief as the pain fades. Kyungsoo snatches his hand away. His fingers go to his lips, muffling a hiss. “Sorry.” You tuck your hand behind your back. “I should have guessed it would hurt. It’s hard to know though. All of this is one gigantic learning process.” You offer a wry smile. His fingers remain against his lips, nearly obscuring his pout. As he lowers his hand, the expression melts into his normal indifference. You mourn the loss. “I understand.” He nods, returning to attention. “How was your day?” You ask as you reclaim your spot on the floor. “Fine. The same as every other day.” “What does everyday look like for you?” “It’s nothing exciting.” You snort, pulling at a stray bit of energy. You pass it between your fingertips, making them glow in turn. “Exciting is overrated. My life is so exciting it’s electrifying.” The corny joke cracks Kyungsoo, and you catch his brief smile. “I’d love a mundane day. But, I said goodbye to those when I volunteered to be a lighting rod.” Steepling your fingers, you feel the energy build between your palms. When you glance up, you find his eyes on you. His jaw tightens. The air thickens with his unasked questions. You wait, but nothing comes. “Really? I tell I volunteered for this and still nothing.” You shake your head. “I wonder if you’re really human.” Crossing you arms, you cock your head back to hold his whole face in your gaze. His shoulders stiffen. “It might offer an explanation for why you can do what you do.” The snark in your voice incites your conscience, but you silence it with a huff. “There’s nothing wrong with following orders.” His voice is low, his words sharp. They cut through you, leaving you speechless. He fully meets your gaze, the humanity you questioned painfully evident. You look away. You want to bite back. A retort slams against your teeth, but you clench them, refusing to speak it.   You have no explanation for your behavior. He’s just another in the long line of guards you’ve had. Whether he shows interest in you or not is irrelevant. He’ll be gone soon. The knowledge opens a cavity in your chest. Clenching your fist, you shove every bit of excess energy into it until it burns. Clearing your throat, you say, “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He continues to stare, but you refuse to meet his eyes as you push yourself off the floor. “Goodnight.” You offer before returning to your room. The door clicks shut behind you as you walk to your bed. Crawling under your covers, you glance back at the door. Kyungsoo maintains his position face to the wall, ever the diligent soldier. As your lids lower, you catch sight of a small red box propped against the door frame. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Arriving at the warehouse, your guards leave you in the care of a new face. This man is no soldier or doctor or scientist. His height barely tops yours and his gray hair grows long, hanging loose about his shoulders. A baggy shirt and sweats hide his frame. You stop a few feet from him. He bows, and you return the gesture. 

Botanica Magica sticks out like a sore thumb… or a green thumb, which is probably more appropriate given the way Gladio’s eyes are drawn to the vibrant emerald foliage covering the shop.  Tiny yellow blossoms clustered on a wooden signpost out front spell the stores name, confirming Gladio’s initial guess that this is the place he wants.  The hedge witch (or so Gladio suspects) has cultivated a miniature, perfect garden at the front of the store, leaving only a cobblestone walkway leading to the door free of flowers.  Gladio nearly jumps out of his skin when two massive, six pointed lilies, one on either side of him, bloom to life as he reaches the door.

Nice touch.

If Gladio thought the outside marvellous, the inside proves nothing short of a botanical wonderland.  He has three breaths to take it all in before a thorny vine whips towards his face; only reflexes developed through many years of combat training save him from what promises to be a nasty gash.

“That’s enough!” a clipped, male voice calls from deeper in the shop.  As soon as he speaks, the vine quiets, curling into a dormant position along the wall.  There are staccato footsteps, progressively louder, and then the owner of the voice comes into view.

He’s… in a word, alluring. He’s dressed prim and proper like most Lucians, buttoned up shirt and slacks pressed into creases sharp enough to cut, but smudges of dirt dot the lime coloured apron he wears.  Even the shock of styled hair, a mini, ash blonde mountain peak above his forehead, isn’t enough to detract from his two most arresting features—the bright, luminous, swirling emerald of his eyes behind a pair of glasses, and the pale web of pastel green markings that cover his exposed forearms.

“My sincerest apologies. Afternoons here tend to be rather quiet, and I’m afraid some of my charges are still too quick to react to my distress,” the man explains as he approaches Gladio. He smells like sunlight and the promise of ice cold spiratea at the end of a hard day’s work. “Are you alright?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine… thanks,” Gladio says, suddenly a touch embarrassed to have forgotten his manners. “Sorry if I disturbed you.”

Those eyes shift like quicksand, slow and languid, as the man studies Gladio. “You’ve no need to be sorry. This is a business, after all, and I’d be a poor proprietor if I turned away good custom.” His gaze cuts to the vine, sheepishly—if a plant can be sheepish—curled against the wall. “You and I will talk later.”

The sternness draws a chuckle out of Gladio. “I’m guessing you’re the hedge witch I’m lookin’ for, then.”

“I am indeed. Ignis Scientia, owner of Botanica Magica, at your service.”

There’s an awkward shuffle where Ignis bows and Gladio extends his hand at the same time, forgetting that he’s in Lucis and handclasps aren’t the way of things, before letting his hand fall back to his side.  Ignis rises and studies Gladio, taking him in from the shaved sides of his hair down to his calloused, bare feet.

“What business brings an earth elementalist to a hedge witches shop?”

Gladio laughs again, louder this time. “What gave it away? The height, the build, or the lack of shoes?”

Ignis smiles at Gladio like the two of them are in on some delicious secret together, and Gladio’s pulse quickens. “Your energy, actually.  All of the earth elementalists I’ve met have this…” he flaps a hand nonchalantly as he searches for the word, “aura about them, like the epicentre of an earthquake given physical form. However, the bare feet were a close second.”

Gladio likes this guy, and not just because he’s the most captivating thing he’s seen since he arrived in Lucis.  “I’ll take it as a compliment. You can just say earthshifter, though. Or Gladio, since that’s my name.”

“Gladio.” Ignis rolls the word over his tongue, gemstone eyes roiling like a whirlpool, and smiles again. “Very well. How may I help you, Gladio?”

“I was aimin’ to buy some plants. You know, liven up the new apartment, give it some life?”

It’s Ignis’ turn to laugh, rich and deep and knowing. “Well, that’s certainly a service I can provide. Come—I’ll show you some of my favourites that are in need of a home.”

The variety astounds Gladio. Ignis guides him along the walls, stopping to point out each flower or shrub or succulent available, explaining a little about them as he does. (Gladio already knows most of them, of course, but hearing Ignis explain them in his wonderful baritone is a treat all in itself.)  Gladio points out a few he’s interested in; Ignis notes the selections with a curt nod, tapping his finger on the plants indicated and marking them with a tiny, hovering orb of light.

When they reach a cluster of gossamer lavender blossoms that Gladio doesn’t recognize, he asks about them immediately.

“Ah,” Ignis says with a chuckle, ghosting his fingers across the wraith-like petals, “these aren’t available, unfortunately. Maybe someday I’ll bear to part with them, but for now…”

The affection so clearly written across Ignis’s features as he regards the blooms melts something deep inside Gladio’s chest. “Yeah. I think you’re beautiful.” Too late he realizes his error and quickly tries to correct it. “I mean, shit… I think it’s beautiful.” Gladio can feel warmth flooding his cheeks.

Ignis inclines his head, a smile playing about his lips. “We both appreciate the compliment.”

The rest of the shopping trip goes uneventfully, though Ignis’s Lucian formality begins to deteriorate in a pleasant way after Gladio’s slip of the tongue.  By the time they’re finished, Gladio has picked out enough plants to cover his apartment and significantly lighten his purse.

“Do you have the means of transportation to see them all safely home?” Ignis asks after accepting Gladio’s gil.

Gladio knew he was forgetting something. He rakes a hand through his hair before responding. “Is it alright if you hold them until tomorrow? I came on foot today, but I can bring the car next time.”

“Oh…” Ignis says, and there’s that smile again, secret and seductive, “I’d say it’s more than alright.”