deathsmajesty | Personal Voicemail

There was a part of Ignis that was asking himself why, exactly, he seemed to be particularly insistent on playing at this sort of dance right now, and there was a part of him that had the answer as to why firmly on hand. And there was a part of him that was telling him he should wait for the chance to catch her at her shop, instead, and another part of him that already felt he'd waited too long already.

But he did wait, at least, until the early hours of evening that Sunday to pull up Liliana's number on his phone, hesitate on it for far too long, then scold himself for being absurd. And when it started to ring, he found himself both hoping and dreading that it would just land him in her voicemail.

The urge to follow-up almost immediately after Prompto had called him yesterday to ask about, of all things, what sort of cupcakes Liliana might like was incredibly strong, especially since Prompto's answer to his question about why he was getting cupcakes for Liliana was a very frantic "I don't know!" followed by a less-than-helpful recounting of the events that lead him to flailing in a cupcake shop in Baltimore. But he held back that urge out of some sense of....propriety? Self-preservation? Respect to the continued dance of denial and giving in that they seemed to be constantly entangled in? He wasn't quite sure, but it did feel most prudent, at least, to wait, and then it was all a matter of deciding, once it felt...acceptable to reach out, how exactly to do it.

The radio's reporting on it had him desperately wanting to go see her, but that seemed like it could be a bit...fraught with danger, on several different levels. And so he figured, a safe compromise (all the while loathing the idea of leaning into the safe option but unable to convince himself not to) was to just send her one of those voice texts, one over which he agonized for far too long before actually sending it.

"Is everything alright? Prompto seemed quite worried after you left the shelter yesterday."

Yes. Prompto was worried. Let's lean into that.

Immediately after he sent it, he regretted not being more honest, but it was too late now.

Hello, Liliana, this is Dr. Hannibal Lecter. Radio said you required medical assistance. Would you like for me to visit?

Could panic be conveyed through text? Because there was definitely a panicked text hitting Liliana's phone at some point in the morning, right about whenever would be most convenient to the plot, actually.

I DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING TO ANYONE I SWEAR!!!

And if that didn't get a response for a while (for whatever possible reason that he was not one to speculate on except to panic more!), then there might be a follow-up panicked call in Liliana's near future.

"Yeah, ey, just calling to say hi -- EVERYONE SAY HI -- and see what was going on, but I got your machine so I s'poose that's lucky for you and a crying shame for me. Later, sunshine.

Was John supposed to feel shame? Not in this lifetime, mate.

Saturday evening, a phone call came through to Liliana's line. Technically it was business but Dean figured this was a better way to get a hold of her.

"Liliana Vess. It's Dean. I got a favor to ask of you. I got six boxes that contain items of a dangerous nature that I would like to have locked up in a safe place. Mind if I use the Consortium's locker? I'd like them in a safe place."

So last week's class had been somewhat... personally revealing in a few ways. So when Dean tried to send a message to Navaan it definitely went to the wrong place.

Look, I don't regret anything about that night when we flanged but I'd really appreciate it if you didn't bring it up in front of the girl I'm seeing in class tomorrow. Cool?

[[ from , naturally ]]

oh? Truly? You've never FLANGED before? Let me inform you, then, that it does come HIGHLY recommended. And while I must admit you are a bit....younger than I am usually strictly comfortable with, as someone who considers you a fried, I do feel it would be my duty....nay, privilege....to at least offer a...thorough introduction, if you find yourself so inclined and curious. Just......

......hmu girl.

(From here!)

"...Donald Blake is absolutely not allowed to have sex with you."

[From here]

If I threatened you, you'd know it. I didn't, though.

Hope your weekend wasn't too terrible. We should plan a girl's day. I can tell you about my indulgence.

After some careful deliberation throughout the day and bouncing some thoughts off of Stark during their incredibly handwavy post-Paintball, post-work, Mostly-Victory celebration dinner for managing to finish out that class being bested only by a literal god, Summer had...mostly reached a decision about her unexpected boon yesterday and was sending off a text to Liliana:

if i were to tell u that i have in my possession something that will absolutely rock ur boys world right now, would u be interested, or nah?

Edited 2024-08-20 11:19 (UTC)

A flower arrangement arrived at the creepy but not abandoned mansion. It had a simple note:

Apologies for the mess,

- Dean

And included in the note were two tickets for box seats to an upcoming Baltimore Ravens game.

There was no doubt that Liliana would have noticed, in preparing herself for the ~~morning~~ afternoon, on her dressing table, among all her other usual toiletries and accoutrements, a black velvet jewelry box. It was, after all, quite a large one, all the better to display the necklace that would reveal itself inside: incredibly thin and shimmering black strands, several of them of varying length to create cascading tiers, each of them speckled with a seemingly random assortment of black and purple jewels, small and glittering like dewdrops...

Or small kisses scattered all across one's décolletage.

A small card with a meticulously written message:

When I think about you
I hold you close and place you
around my neck like a necklace.

It was just about when Liliana would arrive at the shop for her no doubt arduous day of work that Monday ~~despite the time stamp, shush~~ that a voice message would have pinged on her phone. Surely coincidence, and not anything meticulously planned, perish the thought.

It was, simply, just some recited poetry, some long overdue payback, as it were:

"Her moon is the everlasting cream
In my coffee of stars.
I stir in the hopes she appears
In half dark twinkles of night.
My hands warm in the bistro of...

Anticipation.

She leans against my lips
& my emotions erupt in hot steam.
A love like hers silk as cream,
Easing down my throat.

I stir until half dark twinkles are covered.
I stir until only the smallest bit is shown.
Her moon the everlasting cream,
In my coffee of stars.

The taste forever lingering on my tongue.

This cream a kiss that orbits much of the world.
A romance I taste with each sip,
In my coffee of stars"

They'd discussed that Liliana always needed cake and Stark had just finished a batch of extremely chocolate cupcakes in today's class. So naturally he decided he ought to send Liliana a text. It wasn't like he could just show up unannounced!

I have chocolate cupcakes to share if you would like some

Liliana would be receiving a floral delivery today, with a message in rather distinctive handwriting on the card: With my most sincere apologies for making you row.

The sender had neglected to sign his name, but Liliana could probably figure it out.

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Text message

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Wacky Phone Day!

Phoooone Daaaay

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Phone day!

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A Message for Monday "Morning"

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