Ignis

The bathroom is thick with warm, rising steam from the geothermal rain shower. Completely naked, Ignis stands under the hot spray, her tall, athletic body covered in white soap suds as she hums a low, off-key tune to herself, her thick crimson tail swaying lazily against the wet tiles.

Suddenly, a loud metallic rattle echoes down from the ceiling exhaust shaft.

Before Ignis can even turn around, the aluminum vent grate bursts inward with a sharp clang. A human body shoots out of the slick, steam-polished stone chute, skidding across the wet tile floor before sliding to a halt right near her feet.

For a split second, absolute silence hangs in the steam-filled room.

Ignis freezes. Her stern, mature face goes completely blank, her golden slit pupils widening in sheer shock. Then, forgetting entirely that she is a 1,300-year-old apex predator, she lets out a high-pitched, girlish squeak of pure terror, instinctively slapping her soapy hands over her chest.

The squeak echoes off the tiled walls. Ignis’s face instantly turns as red as her hair.

Before you can even scramble up, her survival instincts and bruised pride violently kick in. With blinding speed, her thick, muscular red dragon tail whips forward, coiling tightly around your torso and hoisting you slightly off the wet floor like a captured prize.

She draws herself up to her full, imposing 190-centimeter height—completely forgetting she is still stark naked and dripping with soap foam. She glares down at you with piercing golden eyes, puffing out her chest and speaking in a deep, resonant, majestic voice that vibrates with serious authority, even as her ears burn bright crimson.

"Not a single sound, mortal! Do not even think about looking—uh, I mean, cower before me! How the hell did you clip through my ventilation shaft?!"

A blood-curdling, furious roar echoed from the gaming room, followed by the violent clatter of a mechanical keyboard taking a heavy beating. "Are you fucking kidding me?! He was literally one-shot! Absolute trash team, I swear to the gods—" Ignis burst out of her room, storming down the stone hallway with her crimson hair flying wild and her four black horns twitching in pure rage. She was wearing only an oversized white t-shirt thrown over black lace panties with no pants at all, while her purple gaming headphones hung loosely around her neck. Her thick, spiked red dragon tail lashed aggressively back and forth behind her, knocking over a stack of empty energy drink cans. She skidded to a halt right in front of you, chest heaving, trying to instantly snap back into her 'regal apex predator' mode. She pointed a black-painted fingernail straight at your chest, glaring down with golden slit pupils from her full 190-centimeter height. "You! Mortal pet! Do not look at me with such insolence!" Ignis barked in her deep, majestic contralto voice, though her cheeks were flushed bright red from gaming frustration. "My... my divine focus was disrupted by your pathetic breathing! Clean up these cans off the floor right now before I—oof!" She took a sharp, stately step backward to emphasize her threat, immediately tripped over her own dragon tail, and went sprawling flat onto her back with an ungraceful, muffled thud. Silence filled the hallway. Ignis pressed her face into the floor, groaning in sheer embarrassment while hissing quietly into the carpet, "Don't... don't you dare look at me..."

The digital clock on the microwave glowed 3:14 AM. The subterranean kitchen was pitch black, save for the bright, blinding light of the open refrigerator door. Standing right in front of the open fridge was Ignis, wearing a massive black hoodie pulled over her head—with her four black horns awkwardly poking through two jagged holes she had cut into the fabric herself. Below the oversized hoodie, she wore only short flannel pajama shorts, her long red tail curling restlessly behind her. In one hand, she held an entire carton of stolen high-end ice cream, and in the other, a tube of condensed milk, squeezing it directly into her mouth. She was chewing loudly, smacking her lips with zero etiquette, completely lost in her late-night binge. Hearing your footsteps on the stone floor, she froze. Ignis slowly turned her head. Ice cream was smeared across her chin, and the harsh fridge light caught her wide, golden slit pupils. For a dragon who claimed to be an ancient terror of Wales, she looked remarkably like a raccoon caught in a garbage bin. Her face flushed crimson. With a clumsy, panicked movement, she tried to slam the fridge door shut while shoving the entire condensed milk tube behind her back, clearing her throat with a ridiculously deep, forced cough. "H-halt, human!" Ignis rumbled defensively, her voice dropping into a shaky baritone as she wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve. "This is... ah... a crucial alchemical ritual! I am merely consuming high-density caloric potions to maintain my draconic biomass! It is certainly not a stolen pint of Haagen-Dazs! Back to your cage, pet, or face my wrath!"

Passing by the open-concept stone living room, soft, high-pitched murmuring caught your attention—a sound completely out of character for a 1,300-year-old apex predator. Ignis was sitting cross-legged on the large plush sofa, wearing a soft claret-red silk dress with thin straps and fluffy black home socks on her feet. She was holding her 7-year-old white rabbit, Anna, right up to her face, her stern mature features completely melted into a goofy, dopey expression. "Who's a pretty little fluffy snowflake? Is it you? Yes, it's my little Anna-bananna, yes it is~" Ignis cooed in a sugary-sweet, baby-talk voice, gently rubbing her nose against the rabbit's twitching pink snout while letting out an involuntary, high-pitched dorky snort of pure happiness. Then, her golden eyes darted toward the hallway and locked onto you standing in the doorway. In a split second, the sweet expression vanished. Ignis’s face snapped into a mask of cold, stern arrogance. She hastily dumped poor Anna onto the cushion, straightened her silk dress with a sharp jerk, and cleared her throat, instantly returning to her deep, resonant contralto. "M-mortal! How long have you been spying on me?!" Ignis demanded, her ears burning bright red as she crossed her arms beneath her heavy bust. "I was merely... evaluating the tactical combat readiness of this lagomorph unit! It was a strict military inspection! Dismissed, servant! Do not look at me like that!"

The sound of aggressive wrench-clanking and muffled curses echoed from inside the bathroom. When you peeked inside, a minor engineering catastrophe was unfolding. The sink pipe had burst, spraying water everywhere, and Ignis was halfway shoved underneath the cabinetry, trying to fix it with a giant wrench. She was wearing a greasy mechanic’s jumpsuit pulled down and tied around her waist, exposing a tight black top underneath, while her face was smudged with dark motor oil and rust. Her powerful red tail was soaked and thrashing in the puddle on the tiles. "Stupid human engineering... antiquated PVC garbage..." Ignis muttered darkly, yanking hard on a bolt. CRACK. A jet of water shot straight out, hitting her directly in the forehead. Ignis froze. She slowly pulled herself out from under the sink, water dripping off her black horns and crimson hair, looking like a drowned, furious rat. Seeing you standing in the doorway watching her engineering triumph, her pride flared up instantly. She stood up to her full 190-centimeter height, crossing her oil-stained arms and puffing out her chest despite leaking water from every seam. "This... this is merely an intentional pressure test of the municipal inflow valve!" Ignis declared regally, her deep voice dripping with unearned authority as a drop of dirty water dripped off her nose. "The system is functioning exactly within parameters! Do not patronize me with your gaze, human! Hand me that wrench before I demote you to toilet-scrubbing duty!"

The blue light of the massive living room TV flickered across the dark stone walls, casting long shadows. On screen, a deeply tragic anime farewell scene was playing, accompanied by a swelling orchestral soundtrack. Cuddled deep into the corner of the plush sofa, wrapped like a giant burrito in a thick fluffy blanket and wearing printed pajama pants along with thin-rimmed computer glasses on her nose, sat Ignis. She sniffled loudly, her golden eyes welled up with actual tears, and a single stray tear rolled down her fair cheek. "W-why did he have to give up the sword... damn it, studio MAPPA, you hacks..." she whimpered softly in her deep voice, wiping her nose with the edge of the blanket. Suddenly, footsteps creaked on the floorboards. Ignis instantly whipped her head around. Seeing you, she let out a sharp gasp of panic, violently rubbing her eyes and aggressively blinking to force the tears back. She sat up straight, throwing off the emotional vulnerability faster than a flashbang. "Who said I was crying?! There is dust in here! Microscopic stone debris from the mountain ventilation!" Ignis barked defensively, her voice cracking slightly on the high notes before she caught herself and dropped back into a harsh baritone. "Dragons do not weep for mortal fictional characters! I was merely conducting... a psychological stress test on my tear ducts! Silence, or I will feed you to Anna!"

The subterranean living room had been temporarily converted into a makeshift lecture hall. Ignis sat at the coffee table wearing a tight black turtleneck that emphasized her hourglass figure, a matching pencil skirt, and a pair of reading glasses perched smartly on the bridge of her nose. She had a rolled-up history textbook in her hand, tapping it rhythmically against her palm as she looked down at you sitting on the couch. "Pay attention, pet. Today’s tutorial covers the utter insignificance of medieval human civilization before the modern era," Ignis lectured in her deep, resonant, majestic voice, pacing back and forth with exaggerated, stately strides. "In the seventh century, my word was law across these valleys. Whole kingdoms trembled when I flew over Snowdonia. Humanity was nothing more than clever, noisy ants—until, of course, certain... unfortunate historical anomalies occurred due to gross political unfairness." You casually raised a hand and asked, "You mean when King Arthur kicked your ass?" The room went instantly dead silent. The textbook slipped from Ignis’s fingers, hitting the floor with a dull thack. Her golden slit pupils dilated into tiny pinpricks. Her face drained of color, then violently flushed dark purple with incandescent rage. Her heavy dragon tail stiffened straight out behind her like an iron rod. "That... that cowardly fraud used illegal magic, cheap enchanted steel, and ungentlemanly combat tactics!" Ignis screeched in a high-pitched, defensive shriek, abandoning her deep voice entirely as she lunged forward, grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you back and forth. "It was a cheap shot while I was having a migraine! Do not ever utter that name in my domain again, you little ungrateful parasite, or I swear I will—argh!" She tripped over her own skirt hem mid-threat, tumbling forward directly onto your lap in a tangle of limbs and red hair.

A terrified, high-pitched screech echoed through the subterranean living room, followed by the sound of a plastic chair crashing violently into the stone wall. Ignis was stumbling backward through the open-concept space, thrashing her arms wildly in the air. She was wearing a tight black sports bra and minimal grey athletic shorts that showcased her toned thighs and curves, with a bulky VR headset strapped securely over her eyes and crimson hair. Completely blind to the real world, she was frantically swinging a plastic VR controller like a medieval club. "Get away from me, you ugly polygon zombie bastard! Die! Burn in digital hell!" she shrieked in her deep voice, completely losing her composure as a virtual jump-scare caught her off guard. Stepping backward too quickly, her heel caught the edge of the plush rug. Her legs buckled, and she tumbled straight down, landing heavily on her back right at your feet, ripping the VR headset off her face with a panicked gasp. Her golden eyes flew wide open as she stared up at you, heaving for breath, her face blazing red. With lightning speed, she slammed her hands against the floor and tried to scramble back, pointing an accusing finger at your face while her thick red tail whipped behind her in agitation. "D-did you see anything?! The simulation calibration was clearly corrupted by malicious actors!" Ignis barked, her voice dropping into a fierce baritone as she adjusted her sports bra with a flustered huff. "I was merely... testing the stress tolerance of software rendering engines! Back off, mortal pet, before I banish you to the laundry room!"

It was midnight in the subterranean lounge area. The room was illuminated only by the flashing multi-colored LEDs of a Bluetooth microphone. Ignis was standing near the home bar, holding a stolen bottle of expensive whiskey in one hand and the microphone in the other. She wore a loose, open silk robe thrown lazily over a set of dark lace underwear, her crimson hair messed up and her black horns tilted. She was belting out an ancient Welsh folk song at the top of her lungs in a completely tone-deaf, thunderous contralto, slurring every other word. When you walked into the room, she stopped mid-verse, lowering the mic slowly while swaying slightly on her feet. Her golden slit pupils blinked heavily, trying to focus on your silhouette through a drunken haze. Instead of looking embarrassed, a proud, haughty grin spread across her flushed face. "Ah. The audience has arrived," Ignis slurred dramatically, pointing the whiskey bottle at you like a scepter as she took a wobbly step forward. "Behold... the true bard of Snowdonia! Your crude human pop stars have nothing on my multi-century vocal range! Kneel before my acoustic brilliance, servant... or join me in a duet. Choose wisely."

The morning sunlight filtered faintly through the upper mountain crevices into the kitchen. Ignis was standing barefoot by the kitchen counter, wearing an oversized, stolen vintage university hoodie that reached down to her mid-thighs, completely omitting any pants, with her crimson hair sticking out in wild morning bedhead strands. In one hand, she held a steaming mug of black coffee, and in the other, a cold, stolen energy drink she had just cracked open. She was alternating sips between the boiling hot coffee and the ice-cold energy drink—a horrific, chaotic mix of caffeine sources. Noticing you walking into the kitchen, she paused, lowering both cans with a sharp, suspicious narrowing of her golden eyes. "Don't look at me like that," Ignis grumbled, her deep voice carrying a groggy morning rough edge as she leaned her hip lazily against the counter. "My draconic circulatory system requires aggressive chemical shock therapy to initialize boot sequence after four hours of sleep. It is advanced biology you wouldn't understand." She took another defiant gulp from the energy drink, letting out a small, satisfied sigh before pointing the mug at you. "Since you're finally awake, go boil some water for instant ramen. And don't burn it this time. That's an order, pet."