daemonized | RECOLLE IC CONTACT.

Then bring whatever it is you like, as well. We'll have a friendly dinner together.

[Of course he's curious about the news, too, but he figures that she will tell him that much when she arrives.]

All right.

[It takes her a bit of time, though not as much as one would expect, because all she has to do is grab a few leftovers out of her fridge. It's omurice, and what's more, it's omurice she made herself. That normally would mean it's terrible, but this is something Fawkes taught her how to make, so it's actually quite good.

She's very proud of it.

Honestly, she really ought to have a key to his place at this point, Rosalind considers, but that's a conversation for another time. Knocking at the door, she calls:]

Ardyn?

[Ardyn greets her at the door, swinging it open and looking like the tired mess that he is. He's recovered only somewhat, but the events of their first objective had taken it out of him, and it shows in his eyes.

Despite everything, he offers her a smile, as is the norm.]

Rosalind. It's good to see you in person, and to know that you're still indeed in one piece. [He steps back to let her in.]

The feeling is mutual.

[She doesn't precisely look her best, but it's nothing compared to him. God, he looks a wreck, exhausted and worn down, but though she feels a thrill of worry, she keeps it safely hidden. There's no use in being fussy.]

Here. For once in our lives, I'm going to take over the kitchen. Go sit.

[He does look ragged and worn down, but Ardyn's stubbornness is not so easily discarded, either. He is determined to keep his back straight and that smile permanently on his face. He's already worried too many, he'll not add Rosalind to the list once more.

Closing the door behind him, he follows her into his house, and lets her saunter off to the kitchen as she pleases. He'll take a seat at the couch.]

Don't burn my house down.

Don't boss me. I've gotten enough of that from one Izunia this fortnight, I shan't take it from another.

[That's mildly said, however, and soon there's the sound of the microwave buzzing, so. Probably no burning down his house. There's some more noises, suggesting a kettle and some tea bags are being hunted down-- and so, some ten minutes later, Rosalind emerges with two mugs of tea and their food, balancing it all very carefully.]

What, you've talked to Fynn recently?

[Poor Rosalind, he thinks. Having to deal with his younger brother.

Regardless, when she returns with tea, he'll take one of the mugs, and eyes the food with interest.] And what's this?

He accompanied me part of the way home the day of the convention. Missy, I believe, was the term he used to catch my attention, and quite frankly, he's lucky there were monsters around us, or else that would have been the day I slapped your brother.

[She really would have, too. Which would have likely led to some screeching, and honestly, they're going to get into a terrible argument one day soon. But not that day!

She perks up a fair bit as he asks that, though.]

It's a Japanese dish Fawkes taught me to make. Fried rice and eggs.

He has a big mouth, one in which he cannot always control. You have my blessing to slap him across the face if he deserves it in less dire circumstances.

[Ardyn Izunia, a good Big Brother.]

Oh? [It smells appetizing at any rate. For now, he sips at his tea, looking over the brim of the mug at her.] Have you been spending time with him still, despite all the chaos of what's been happening around us?

I should say it's rather because of, not despite. I told you he has a tendency to worry.

[He has a tendency to pick her up and race away with her when he thinks the situation calls for it, actually, but there's things she'll say and things that might have to come out months later when they're both tipsy.]

With the understanding that this stays solely between the two of us . . .

[She hesitates. This isn't her secret to tell, but she's dying to tell someone, and there's few she trusts more than Ardyn. He shan't tell.]

. . . he has another form. He changes-- not like your nephews, it's sort of a . . . a situational change.

[A tendency to worry is hardly anything he can judge. He’s a bit like that himself.

At the notion of having to keep this a secret, Ardyn looks at her a bit more seriously. He nods, not having to be told twice, and looks surprised when she tells him that he has another form altogether.]

A situational change based upon… danger?

[What else would it be? If this is a new development, it falls in line with the monsters appearing; it doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together, and so he feels safe in assuming that.]

What kind of form?

Enormously tall. Taller than you, I should think he was about seven feet . . . white hair, far longer than he usually wears it. Golden eyes. Claws-- and I do mean claws, not just long nails, they were thicker, I could feel them no matter how gently he held me, and, ah--

Ears. Right--

[She holds her fingers up to the top of her head, the universal gesture for cat ears.]

Tall. Fox ears, actually, if you want specifics, just as white as his hair. And a tail.

[Ardyn is trying to imagine all of this as she describes it to him, and while it's rather straightforward, it's still difficult for him to apply all of this to Fawkes for some reason.]

I...

[He almost doesn't know what to say to that, honestly. There are too many question that fight for the top spot.]

Did anything else change? Personality? Temperament? And how long did this last?

His voice got lower. He was a little . . . I don't wish to say rougher, because he certainly wasn't with me. But he was far more prepared to kill those creatures than I'd thought he would have been.

But . . . overall, his personality was the same. He remained the same, though his appearance was so wildly changed. I recognized him the moment he started speaking, though I'd thought him a monster before then. Something about his eyes, or . . . well. Perhaps I'm simply so used to his personality that I would recognize him no matter what.

[A beat. She considers all this, then adds:]

He was far stronger. He's able to pick me up as it is, but he was carrying me about that day as if I weighed nothing at all. He could leap, too-- not simply jump, but leap about the place, spanning several feet as if it were nothing.

It lasted until we reached my apartment. He dropped me off, I went into the bathroom, and when I returned he was back to normal.

[At least he retained his personality, he thinks to himself. For a moment, he thought this might've been some werewolf-type transformation, where the one who changes loses all inhibitions and becomes needlessly violent. True, the only experience he had to base that in were old, fictional tropes, but what else was he supposed to expect, honestly?

Ardyn understandable still looks vaguely alarmed, though, as Rosalind explains all of this.]

It generally sounds like an advantage without any of the drawbacks. Especially if the physical changes are only temporary.

Does he have any memories of this happening to him?

Beyond the horrors of having your body change so radically. But yes, he recalls it. He remembers every bit of it.

[Rosalind, in contrast, looks almost calm. The change had shocked and intrigued her, yes, but she's had a fair few days to digest it. Which is why, after a few seconds, she's able to murmur:]

Seven feet tall, Ardyn.

Very intimidating, I'm sure.

[He watches her expression carefully, and it's reassuring to know that she seems rather calm about it. There are many ways that this could've gone much worse than it sounds like it did.]

Though I assume this hardly changes anything between the both of you.

Intimidating isn't quite the word I'd use . . .

[It's a murmur, and she glances up at him, meeting his eyes as she says it.]

But no. I think . . . truth be told, I think it helped. It was good to be in a situation that was entirely removed from academia.

[He has to laugh a little at that, leaning back in his seat.]

A silver lining to be found in our city crawling with monsters, hm? Well, as odd as it is for me to say, I'm glad that this development ended up helping. Bringing the two of you closer together -- utterly romantic, wouldn't you say?

[Teasing again? Sincere? Who knows.]

[She gives him a bit of a Look, just in case that was teasing, but . . .]

I'd prefer a waltz. But given I've his promise on that, I suppose this isn't so bad.

A waltz?

[Stop. You know he's a romantic at heart. He can't not follow up on this.]

He'll take you out for dinner and a dance?

He's going to.

[Hrhgh. It's not that she wants to keep this to herself, but also: there's something awful about facing that eager grin.]

He requested a particular dress. He's going to match it.

[That eager grin is going anywhere any time soon, sorry Rosalind.]

What does the dress look like?

[. . .]

Sleeveless. Lacy. Champagne colored. The color was his choice, and I suppose if nothing else, there's little chance of that color disappearing between now and then.

[Okay, he just has to say it. He can't not.]

How very romantic. Completely and utterly so. You must be delighted.

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