Now you know it's so much better to pretend

[thatsit]

Since the revelations of the meeting the mood in the Palace had shifted. In part, that was because the population had shifted. A number of attendees had left for their own homes once more, and the air had felt a little less tense ever since.

Bellatrix had been the first to depart, slinking off with her tail between her proverbial legs before anyone had chance to notice her retreat. Ariane Emory had stayed the night and left for Gralea the following day. Ignis had no doubt the woman would be back, but since her chances of laying her hands on the stone were currently zero she'd likely considered it a waste of her time to linger. He wasn't sorry to see the back of her black clad followers, whose impassivity was unsettling and existence an affront, although neither of those things were the fault of the individuals themselves.

Sir Integra and Alucard had stayed an extra night, which Ignis suspected had more to do with the presence of Noah clan in the Palace than Integra's own wishes. Alucard was a barely leashed attack dog at the best of times, but the Palace was, if not a no-combat zone then at least a neutral one where residents were expected to behave themselves. Ignis had sought her out prior to her departure, and they'd spent an hour discussing the meeting, the attendees, and Ignis and Gladio's plans to stay on a while longer.

She'd promised to pass his well wishes to his aunt before she'd left.

The Noah remained, though they seemed more intrigued with the Arrancar than they did with Ignis and Gladio. It wasn't unfounded; the meeting had held a number of revelations, not least the fact that Captain Aizen's underlings were daemon-infused experiments. It explained a lot about some of them, such as why, despite their reputations and behaviours, they were kept around.

It only raised questions about others. Nel, for example, seemed perfectly level headed and competent, and even had a background as a ranked watchwoman, and yet as one of Captain Aizen's Arrancar, she was infused with daemonic power. Why she had consented to that was a small mystery, and one that was probably rude to enquire about unless one knew her personally.

She was preparing for another visit to D District, maintaining the air that she was Captain Aizen's lover. Ignis had informally taken over some of her kitchen duties, duties that were not, Nel had said, given to her but which she had assumed because it was that or allow a disorganised free for all that would see inhabitants surviving on cup noodles and ready meals, and no one ever washing the dishes.

Aside from anything else, it gave Ignis a good position from which to ingratiate himself with the Palace's other inhabitants. Some were self sufficient, stubbornly so in some cases. Others were accustomed to Nel's presence, and became similarly accustomed to Ignis's.

He had two flavoured batches of Lucian Delight, cooled and ready for slicing into cubes to one side. He'd found an apron too, which made him feel much more at home in the Palace's kitchen. With his sleeves rolled up and his jacket hanging over the back of a chair, he practically looked like he belonged there as he sifted cornflour and icing sugar together.

Comments

[thesilentstorm]

'Normal' wasn't really a word that could be applied to the Desert Palace, but what passed for it was slowly coming back, pulling itself out from under the weight of the meeting and its associated guests.

Lumi had allowed himself a bit of a smile at the fact that Bellatrix Lestrange, the objectionable Jyllandi Hume woman who seemed to have a problem with anybody who wasn't of her species, race, nationality or social class, had been the first to leave. She hadn't even stayed another night. Most of the others had left the following morning, but some had evidently decided to stick around.

Lumi didn't mind. Didn't care, really. It wasn't up to him to deal with any issues, and after Marluxia's little performance, he highly doubted that anybody who lingered would be taking their chances squaring up to either of them. He himself had a reputation that had only been bolstered by Alucard's apparent fear of his lack of reiatsu and Marluxia had managed to garner a new respect from both residents and transients thanks to his petal-strewn theatrics.

It was the smell of rose that brought him to the kitchen. There was something else, but he largely ignored that in favour of the more familiar scent. It didn't smell quite like the flowers that Marluxia grew, there was something else to it, a rather sweet note, but it was something he associated with him anyway, for reasons made rather obvious in the meeting.

He watched Ignis sifting the powders for a moment.

"What are you making?" He asked.

[gracefuldahlia]

The atmosphere in the Palace had lifted following the meeting. It helped that a number of the less savoury individuals had left, and less savoury by Khamja's standards was something to behold.

Bellatrix had gone first, quietly slipping away in the hours after without a word. Marluxia took a certain amount of pride in that. True, he'd shown his hand as it were, but no one was going to doubt that neither he nor Lumi were not to be trifled with ever again. Most of these people didn't know they were Ryoka, so every little warning helped.

Marluxia had spent the morning in his greenhouse. His newest flowers were beginning to bud, and with the prospect of the flower shop looming closer on the horizon he was preparing some of the samples he'd be taking to grow in Alexandria for travel.

He made his way to the kitchen for a drink. The distinct, fire elemental reiatsu of Ignis was already emanating from there, but Marluxia wasn't surprised to find Lumi also present. Even Marluxia couldn't sense Lumi, but he'd learned that if Lumi wasn't with his ship, then he was likely in the kitchens.

The signs of some form of baking were evident. The room smelled sugary, and Ignis was wearing an apron that was speckled with a fine white powder. Surprisingly, Lumi was holding a tub of something. Marluxia's eyes fell on the tub, and then drew back up to Lumi's face. "Good afternoon."

[thesilentstorm]

The hangar, really more a cave than anything, was cool and quiet.

The usual assortment of ships stood around, glinting in the light, the Ragnarok and Invincible dwarfing the others, Lumi's included. She was smaller than the Ragnarok by a decent margin, but she was designed with speed in mind, not cargo or an excess of passengers, and she looked every bit a racer. The technology within implied that she was a recon vessel, or one designed for sneak attacks, quick in-and-outs, if the cannon was anything to go by. That was easily visible from the outside, a feature that stood out from her sleek curves. She looked as dangerous as she did fast.

He didn't know a great deal about Lucian history, but they had some connection to Pulse, way back. Unfortunately, enough time had passed that he doubted that they had any real knowledge of this technology. The Backslide had been a nail in the coffin of invention, both on the upper and lowerworlds. The cursed Mist had seen to that. It had halted progress on the lowerworld and rewound it, forcing people to use more primitive methods to get by and causing a re-discovery and re-invention later on, when the Mist had faded, but that was better than what had apparently happened elsewhere. Pulse was now uninhabited, according to history, the population wiped out.

"I've decided to call her the White Rose," Lumi said, approaching the ship, coffee cup still in hand. "Though the name she came with was Noctua."