Inigo Barré

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"I, um, don’t know anyone who might have wanted to come with me." She said, quickly, before the blush growing hot on her cheeks spiraled completely out of control into some serious level five red glow of embarrassment. Though maybe she should feel bad that she really meant it, not a single person whom she could have asked to go with her, but, well, what was the point in being sad about facts? Facts she was trying to change, anyway, so she wasn’t going to bother feeling bad about them. 

Inigo seemed… maybe a little mortified too? He wasn’t looking at her, anyway, so Namine looked away herself, appreciating the chance to take a calming breath and accept that lots of girls got called pretty all the time. It wasn’t that big a deal. She watched a white butterfly, laced with black, and realized those were the supposed Rice Paper butterflies. Oh. She hadn’t quite expected them to look like that. 

  He watch her as she tried to get one of the butterflies to land on her hand. "So pretty…" he heard her say. I didn’t know butterflies could come out during winter…" 

“I’m sorry, you’re right.” The warm air inside the conservatory was almost tropical, disconcerting when coming inside from the cool day. Good thing that she had taken off the scarf, if it got much warmer she was going to end up carrying both it and her sweater. Namine extended a hand to her new acquaintance once they had cleared out of the way of the door, a little too properly brought up to do anything else, or even know how.

"You know, I've never actually been out here before. I've heard of the Flight of White, and it never interested me too much. But this is nice."

“You have a slight…” She paused, maneuvering the subject, gauging how unkindly he might take it, but thinking he wouldn’t. “cadence, to your words, which I suppose makes sense. French is very lyrical, isn’t it?” Without beat, she slipped back into years of studying under a French tutor, doodling little stars on the corners of her notebook, watching Maurice Chevalier in lively debate with Charles Boyer in black and white while filming in the River district. “Nous parlons français ici, ainsi. [Did that make things easier?]”

Namine hesitated, a brief fraction of a second she answered his question. “I wasn’t born far from here; I’ve lived in Prava all my life.” Not a lie, merely not the outright detailed truth. She was surprised to find herself already at the ticket booth, a woman staring at her expectantly, the prices prominently displayed overhead. Namine apologetically burst into a flurry of motions, almost dropping the scarf, seemingly digging deep under the inside pocket of her jacket until she finally just sheepishly slid a credit card onto the flat counter, surrendering it.

“Um. One ticket, please. Thank you.” She shifted, rearranging the scarf more securely on her arm, not sure what to do now as the woman returned both the card and a ticket to her.

So she had lived in Prava her whole life. Inigo wondered what that must be like. He almost envied her for it. Being able to stay in your home city must be nice. He wished it could have been the same for him. He never much enjoyed Vienna. Getting to be near your family... Must be nice. 

The line moved up and the girl got her ticket. She then turned around and asked, almost hesitantly, if he would like to join her. That took him by surprise. Things must have been going better than he thought! 

"I- Yeah that would be great." he responded with a smile. 

He then took his turn at the window. He asked for one ticket, and in return the woman asked for €12.50. Inigo pulled out a group of bills from his pocket, smoothed them out on the counter, and then handed them to the woman. He then held up his left pointer finger to indicated to the tell to wait one second as he dug through his pocket with his right hand for some change. He passed the coins over, and after counting, she passed a ticket back to him. "Enjoy yourself" she added as he turned to leave.

“It looks that way, doesn’t it? I guess everyone wants to see the snow.” She referred to the advertisement slogan that the conservatory was using to draw people in, the miracle of snow in Prava that didn’t turn gray and melt within hours. He didn’t seem to be a local, with that accent under the words. Namine didn’t mean that in a bad way. She wasn’t snobby about it, even if she came from the sort of people that called themselves the true children of Prava. If she was, the overdose of hypocrisy might have killed her. Namine hugged the scarf and arm close to her, not out of chill but out of comfort.

The girl then asked Inigo where he was from. He wasn't sure if she meant where was in from in the city, or rather where he was born. She seemed like a well off individual economically, and the fact that he lives in some small apartment by the tracks in Baja probably wouldn't be very impressive to her. So he instead chose to address where he was born. Living in two of the greatest cities in Europe was a much better story to tell in order to impress a lady. Women generally loved hearing about Paris. 

He laughed. "Well what gave it away?" he asked. "I'm not from Deziro, I've only been here about 2 years. Before that, I lived in Vienna. But originally, I am from Paris. " You could hear the french in his voice, but not in a way that would make him hard to understand. He had grown up learning English in school, and had become fluent in the language. 

"And how about you?" he then asked her. "How long have you been here in Prava?"

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More under the cut.

None of the art belongs to me, all art belongs to their owner(s).

Only the icons are mine.

Reblog or Like if in Usage or in reference.

More under the cut.

A-ah. It looked like she’d found it, going by the families with young children and couples going past her. Namine stepped aside out of the way, inspecting the building before she went in. Having never been in a butterfly conservatory before, she wasn’t sure how it was supposed to look. If she hadn’t been searching for it, she would have easily mistaken it for a greenhouse and not looked twice.

She checked her wristwatch. Getting lost had taken an unexpected chunk of time but the conservatory wouldn’t close for hours. Passing by a smoking young man on a bench, Namine headed for the ticket booth, taking the last place in line. Feeling that she’d dressed a little too cautiously for the weather, Namine pulled the hooded scarf off, folding its voluminous flow over an arm, absently pushing her braided blond hair back over a shoulder. Happily sighing inaudibly that against all odds she’d made it there with little obstacle, Namine patiently waited for the line to start moving. 

Inigo was about to toss the cigarette and head home, when he spied a young and attractive blonde girl getting in line. She was looking rather lost, and more interesting to Inigo, alone. Maybe today wouldn't be such a wash after all. He tossed the butt onto the sidewalk and stamped it out, before walking over to the line and standing behind the girl.