Ignis Snowspire // [District 10]

His favorite time of day is dawn and dusk, when it's just him and seven feet of snow and his lighter. Unlike most of the other teenagers at Snowspire, Ignis doesn't sleep in. He doesn't sleep much at all. The deprivation contributes to his asocial tendences (quote taken directly from a recent reprimand by Ms. Munroe) but if he sleeps he'll miss the falling snow, the liminal space between day and night, and the ability to hold fire in the palm of his hand.

It's when he clicks the lighter shut that he brings the fire inside of himself.

Most of the time - that is, most days when he ends up in Headmaster Walters' office - he can't pinpoint an exact moment when he knew he was going to do something. It seems to him that the terribly woke adults at Snowspire believe if they can identify a trigger, they can stop him. But it's rarely like that. Some days he simply wakes up in the bitter cold dark and wants to explode.

The targets of such moods are less variable. He's burnt everything from books to glass bottles filled with alcohol to charring an entire wall in the boys' dormitory. Even as the teachers (and sometimes the other students) urge him to find other outlets, he's committed. He knows someday he'll learn enough to blow the whole place up --

a convenient bonus of which is that he'll never have to see Kaine slouch or Robey try so hard or Grant save an animal again. That is all Ignis dreams about: the morning he steps into the snow and holds the lighter to the last sliver of moon and is finally, finally alone.