From Nothing • •

[ignis lucan belvoir]

Ignis was fairly certain he went home smelling like dust and all things old. He didn’t care though. His job was absolutely worth it. He’d happily spend the rest of his life lost in the archives of the museum, cataloguing and sorting the things that had been forgotten about or lost down there. Not everything was relevant to what was on display now, but so much had been gathered over the years, through donations and preservation that it was a near impossible task to sort through it all. Still, Ignis was determined to try. Something down here was important to someone. He had seen that from the amount of people who came through compiling research notes, or who had done their family trees and discovered some long lost secret about an ancestor. It was time his bosses probably wished he wouldn’t waste rummaging around for, but Iggy was not the type of man to ignore anyone. He stopped and gave directions to lost tourists, he asked if someone was okay if they seemed upset. He’d take the backlash of misreading a situation, but he’d rather that than ignore someone who might be in need. That went for both out of work and in. Besides, it wasn’t as though the delicate collection would evolve and grow feet while he was listening to someone’s tale of their great uncle Albert. It would still be there in the afternoon, or the next day.

Ignis was good at his job. He knew most of the things down in the vast museum archives and could locate them in a matter of minutes, or at least tell someone where they should be. He wasn’t the only person with access of course, and sometimes people moved things without the proper procedure, thinking themselves about the rules because they were the lead on something that sounded big and fancy. Ignis enjoyed being there when they got told off for not running it by him first. Not everything could leave the archives rooms. Some bits were deemed too fragile, or valuable to go on their own unguarded tours. Some things needed protective gloves, and moderated temperatures. Really, it all went beyond the history and became a little scientific. However, if things were to be preserved for people to access them in the years to come, these were the safety measures and precautions that had to be followed. Iggy made sure to note what was required on each of the boxed papers and parchments when he was done cataloguing them digitally, so if anyone else were to come and remove them from the strong room, they would – or should – know what procedure to follow. Ignis hoped for that much at the very least, but he wrote and tagged them all in fairly large print anyway.

He was trying to process another box of untagged, uncatalogued items when one of the assistants came through to his small, cramped office. She was young, a college student, he believed. She quickly told him there was someone here to see him, and that apparently there had been an appointment scheduled, but she couldn’t find anything in the small diary. Ignis sighed and told her he’d be right out. They had, for some reason, several diaries, and none of the appointments ever found their way into all of them, so no one ever really knew what was going on. Still, Ignis always went when he was called, and after putting the box back in the strong room where it came from, he made his way to the public archives room where anyone could sit and access the old documents and items of interest. Mrs McGuire was at the microfilm reader, once again going through the old newspaper articles for her latest project, but at the large and currently empty table was a familiar, pretty face that Ignis smiled at. “Parker! What can I help you with today?” He asked, leaning against the corner, nudging his glasses into place with his knuckle as his turquoise and pink world swirled back into focus.

• • •

TAGGED! Parker Lucille Kadlec
WORDS! 678!
OUTFIT! Awesome Archivist!
LYRICS! Something Else - - - Good Charlotte
NOTES!

[Parker Lucille Kadlec]

Parker knew her life choices constantly confused and befuddled the masses whenever they found out but her life worked really well for her. She spent her days sitting in a cosy home, working on her novels and watering other people's plants. She was a big believer in the old adage that life was an adventure and she'd found a way to live it that suited her. House sitting had not been how she'd planned on spending her days, it had been how she'd wanted to pay for university and how she traveled the world, though why someone wanted a house sitter for their vacation home was beyond her. She was also not about to ask either because she enjoyed her last five weeks in Italy and the four coming up in London; including a weekend trip to Paris that her employer set up for her. As he'd said, "You couldn't go to that area of the world and not pop over to Paris for a weekend.". Parker was not about to disagree with that either. An all-expense paid trip to Paris? Yes, please!

While she was in New York however, she needed to get some research in before she could really sit down and write up those sections of her next book. She was well on her way through the process but now that she'd gotten the plan on paper and had written out, point form, everything she thought she might need, she needed to go to the museum and look at some books and references for the period her characters were going to next. Parker could admit to being a perfectionist when it came to her books. She wanted accuracy and as much authenticity as she could get. That meant she spent an insane amount of time researching if not the specific year, the specific decade she was after. It was easy enough to narrow it down to a year based on all the information she took away from the museums with her notes. Hell, if it were possible to make copies, she would actually need her own place for all the books she'd then have thanks to just how much she referenced when writing her stories. As it was, she was on a first name basis with just about every employee at the museum she favoured for her historical studies and almost to the point where she didn't need an appointment to get what she needed.

The young author liked the professionalism of the whole thing though. There wasn't much in her life that required her to make an appointment, even meeting new clients didn't happen with a proper meeting at home or a coffee shop. Half her clients she'd met in her pyjamas after the client she was currently working for brought them home with them to meet her, and half the time she was just crawling out of bed because of an exceptionally late night writing. So her hair was usually a mess with her sleep mask twisted up in there, her tank top twisted front to back at the hem and her eyes still closed until that first cup of coffee hit her tongue. She knew she was a curious creature who lived an odd life and enjoyed the weirdest things; like making real appointments and keeping them. She'd made an appointment with her favourite curator to go over her ideas so he could direct her to the correct books. Iggy was always a great sounding board and he often had ideas on books she wouldn't have otherwise considered. Of course, knowing these obscure passages in books was his job and required of him but she appreciated it all the same. "Iggy! I'm going back to the height of the steam engine! So I need everything!" She told him with a big smile. "And before I forget to ask from excitement, how are you doing today?" She asked, with a soft chuckle. Luckily for her, Iggy had gotten used to her wild seemingly chaotic style.

♦ ♦ ♦

TAG; ignis lucan belvoir
WORDS; 670
LYRICS; Music --Kelsea Ballerini
NOTES; <3

[ignis lucan belvoir]

Ignis got on with his life without really telling people about the trouble he had with his vision. Of course, plenty of people were colour blind and even more people suffered from more debilitating conditions, but Ignis still felt like an animal at the zoo when people knew about how his world was primarily turquoise and pink. They asked questions, and often those questions were along the lines of; “Well, what does this look like?”. It got old incredibly quickly and he hadn’t had the time for that since middle school, when he was far more interesting to his classmates than the one kid who needed headgear with his braces. There was always that one person who also thought they were doing Ignis some grand favour by letting everyone know of his “disability” and then fuss over him about anything he needed. Ignis didn’t need anything from anyone. He asked Lomax from time to time if things looked good when he was buying gifts for birthdays or Christmas, but most of the time that was the extent of everything. He kept his personal life simple, such as always wearing black since there was no way he could make a mistake with black.

It wasn’t like he was completely hindered in life. He just seemed clueless when he couldn’t give someone an answer over what looked good when it came to outfits or decorating. Iggy got on just fine most of the time, bluffing his way through certain moments with strangers who he wasn’t comfortable around. Sometimes he laughed it off and said he had no sense of fashion, or was the equivalent of being tone death, but for colour matching. Often, when he did that, people laughed with him, sharing their own shortcomings or anecdotes about angry loved ones when they proved to be completely useless. Everyone seemed to have one and it was a quick way to pull attention from himself and on to something else.

At least his job was about far more interesting things than himself. Apart from a pleasant “how are you?” from the regular visitors to the archives, no one ever asked him for the ins and outs of his life. It was exactly how he wanted it to be. Iggy didn’t live a very exciting life and often it was awkward when people seemed to think he’d have partied all weekend when he actually just bought a bunch of new books and cooked dinner for himself. Even when Ignis did go out it was a night of drinks and then some fast food on the way home; there was no embarrassing fight or awkward hook up – that wasn’t who Ignis was. “I’m dusty, but what else is new?” He grinned, sitting himself down at one of the catalogue desks where he could look up the locations of the things Parker wanted. He had a feeling it could be a little scattered about the collection, and he was right. ”Are you looking for anything specific, or literally everything on steam engines?” He asked, scribbling down the locations and corresponding boxes on one of the notecards he always carried in his back pocket.

• • •

TAGGED! Parker Lucille Kadlec
WORDS! 530!
OUTFIT! Awesome Archivist!
LYRICS! Something Else - - - Good Charlotte
NOTES!

[Parker Lucille Kadlec]

Parker didn't know what she would be doing with her life if she hadn't discovered writing. Admittedly, her first short stories were terrible but she'd also been like six. "I like cats" a compelling story does not make. She'd always had a pen and a notebook within arm's reach, even as a small child. There had been nothing else that could grab her attention quite like when she had an idea that needed to be fleshed out. She loved the whole process, even the multiple edits and adjustments. She always felt like when it was getting to be a bit of a struggle and she didn't want to sit down and write, those were the times when she finally came up with the exact right thing. Parker wasn't overly fond of being rejected a dozen times or more when she'd been starting out; especially since she'd had a short story published in a magazine as a teenager. Having that confidence, knowing that she was technically a published author, making each and every rejection easier but they did still take their toll all the same. Eventually, she got a letter back that showed interest. There had never been another day when she'd been more prepared, or more nervous for a meeting in her entire life. But Parker knew what she was talking about. She had done her research for her book, she'd known the answers to every question they'd asked her and then, they offered her the very first deal of her life.

It had been exhilarating. Thankfully she'd managed to keep her cool and said that she'd like someone else to look over the paperwork before she signed. She wasn't an idiot, they could potentially gouge her and take nearly everything from her. She was a new author, very green and she didn't want to be taken advantage of. That seemed to be the right call because the people she'd been speaking to smiled like she'd passed a test and they set up another meeting for the following week. From there, she'd been writing nearly nonstop for the series of books she'd been writing. Much like the babysitters club, Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys, her series could go on for as long as she wanted it to, as long as she had ideas and plans for them. Of course, she knew eventually the series would have to end but for now, she was happy to continue their adventures while she added to her collection of novels for adults as well. Parker didn't want to be stuck in a single genre. That would be a rut she wasn't sure she wanted. People changed as they grew older and she wanted the kids who found her books to know when they got older and could appreciate a more adult novel that there were options that didn't include all sorts of sex and debauchery; or the same plot book after book that was too easy to see coming.

"Literally anything right now. I've not narrowed down my search just yet." She admitted with a grin Iggy had seen her through her previous three novels so far so he knew by now that she was scattered when it came to her research. She started with such a broad topic and then worked her way through subcategories until she had everything she thought she might need. Nearly half of it got scraped by the final edit but she was left with obscure knowledge which was occasionally fun to bring out at parties. Clearly, she was a barrel of fun at parties if her idea of a good time was referencing obscure facts she learned through her various research days. "I know I say this every time I come in but I really appreciate your help, Iggy. The old grump was in the last time I stopped in and he was all too happy to show me how displeased he was that I interrupted his day." She said with a smirk. She'd been in the final edit of her latest book, set to be published in the coming months and she'd needed to double-check a fact before she sent the final edit in because she'd been unable to find the note she'd made. That part of the process drove her crazy but it couldn't be helped when she made a lot of her notes in notebooks and not on the computer. She should switch but there was just something about notes on paper.

♦ ♦ ♦

TAG; ignis lucan belvoir
WORDS; 748
LYRICS; Music --Kelsea Ballerini
NOTES; <3

[ignis lucan belvoir]

Ignis had never really considered the limitations in his life, but there were many of them. There were jobs he couldn’t do, certain activities he was banned from taking part in, and other oddly specific tick boxes that meant he was ruled out of sports he had never even thought about taking part in until some checklist or doctor had told him he couldn’t participate in. For Ignis, the world had always been the odd mix of colours, and he hadn’t ever stopped to think that it limited his life in any way. It had just been sheer dumb luck that the career he had always wanted hadn’t been one that sent him packing when he listed his colour-blindness on any of the health declaration forms that came around with each interview process. He wasn’t curating works of art, or fussing over priceless antiques, so the museum didn’t need him to be able to tell shades of blue from striking flashes of crimson. Iggy spent his days cataloguing old journals, forgotten tomes, and digitalising papers that in a few more years would likely start to disintegrate if not handled in a gentle, professional way and if not stored in the perfect space designed for just their sort of document.

He probably smelt like old books and dust, but Ignis was sure he was blind to the scent. It was his life, and he spent more hours in small, darkened rooms and temperature controlled stores that cotton gloves and lint balls were probably just part of his black ensemble at this point. For the most part, Iggy worked alone and the people who did make appointments with him were either older volunteers who were helping with local projects or genealogy quests, or students chasing that coveted degree that they hoped would pave the way to their dream career. Visits from people like Parker were less common, but they were always the more interesting types of visits that Iggy got in the archives. He never knew what she was going to ask him, or what kind of deep dive she’d send him on. It was a break to the normal workload, something to change up his day even just for an hour or so. The thing with his job was that there was never really any deadline or rush. He had all the time to get through it, checking in every now and then to let the management know where he was up to, letting them showcase some of the more interesting pieces on the museum’s website when they were scanned in and digitalised.

Iggy pushed his glasses up his nose with the eraser end of the pencil, taking a moment to think over the collection. He wasn’t sure, but he had a feeling this was going to be one of the more challenging requests Parker had come to him with. “This could take a while…” He mused, turning back to Parker after staring at the catalogue cards in his hand for a moment longer. “Okay, I will get what I can from the steam engine hey-day, but I’m pretty certain that the rudimentary design of the steam engine goes way beyond what most people think when we say steam engines. We might have some older journals or records from some of the archaeology finds, or some old historians. That may have to be a return visit though. They’ll be buried back somewhere and take me a while to find if they’re in there. That good for you?” He didn’t think he had digitalised any of that part of the archives, which meant it would be the old fashioned work of reading through the potential pieces and keeping his fingers crossed that the archivists before him had catalogued the items with enough details that it would be easy to find the best pieces. If not…well, Iggy would have a few long days and probably a headache to accompany it – not that he’d tell Parker that. “Well, Bob is just counting down the days to retirement.” Iggy didn’t like badmouthing his colleagues, but Bob just wanted to ride out the end of the year when he could collect his pension and move somewhere warmer, away from the east coast.

• • •

TAGGED! Parker Lucille Kadlec
WORDS! 712!
LYRICS! Something Else - - - Good Charlotte
NOTES!