a man for flowers.

[fuhen]

happy birthday.

[fuhen]

       The disbelief is almost pleasant; it’s not exactly something one would have thought Gerome would make for his friend, but he knew well how important it meant for him. Truthfully, he had meant to make something like that since they were back home, since he was in the comfort and warmth of the Wyvern Valley and Inigo out and about travelling the world, visiting several towns sometimes with sometimes without Brady.

       He knew of the dream the both of them shared. Knew how important it was for them. Knew well how male dancers were rare, nearly scarce, people didn’t enjoy them as much as they did female dancers, knew how hard it would be to find appropriate dancer clothes that properly fit him. Which is why the rider took the opportunity, took the skills he possessed and the love he felt for Inigo to work on something that took him months, desired for patience & resources the man was often out and about to find them.

       And he knows, knows well how happy the outfit had made Inigo. Knows how to read him, knows what it means to see the prince even unable to speak and look away from the careful work his friend had made. He wasn’t the kind not to appreciate his friends’ hard work; no, instead, he was so often overwhelmed by them and their meaning and the effort made that it was impressive Inigo hadn’t burst into tears.

       Not yet, at the very least.

       ❝ I did. ❞ is all he says for now, at the beginning, gives it time for the prince to process the information even if he knew the answer before he had even asked. ❝ I have been planning it for months, even before arriving in this city. I had never had the opportunity back in the valley, however. Truthfully, I did not know either if you would even be here by the time your birthday arrived, or even I myself by the time I was done with it. ❞ It was a constant fear of him, too. Constant fear of not giving Inigo something he knew would mean so much. ❝ Do you like it? ❞

[armsthrifting]

He knew the answer before Gerome voiced it, of course he did; because where in this wreck of a city would he be able to find something like this if not having made it himself? Inigo is a try-hard optimist, but he has no doubts that outfits like these don’t exist here if not handmade. 

They barely existed at home! 

But the prince listens as the wyvern rider continues, fingers delicate against the fabric in his hands still-- where was he going to keep it that it wouldn’t be ruined! Or torn? He’s sure Gerome could fix it but he’d feel awful for even laying a scratch on any piece of it for any reason. Even the thought made his heart sink a little, honestly. The question makes Inigo’s eyes lift though, finally, a little wide at even the sound of it; it’s almost ridiculous that Gerome even has to ask, the prince thinks, but he also understands wanting to make sure-- he understands needing to have things voiced.

“Of course I do!” It sounds almost breathless, and if Inigo weren’t terrified of dropping the present in his hands, he’d already be latching himself onto the wyvern rider. Not that he doesn’t want to anyways because he does but minding the gift is important.

“It’s beautiful,” Inigo mumbles, a little quieter, “the colours, the seams.. all of it.” It’s definitely praising, it’s thankful, a little too emotional-- just like most of the things that come out of Inigo’s mouth, “Thank you, Gerome.”

[adamantinam]

💐 ℭ𝔬𝔪𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔢

[adamantinam]

[ 🛡 ]      Cocking her head at him at the question, she feels her eyes squint in confusion. Inigo doesn’t look much different than usual, but then again, there isn’t much in this place that she can consider ‘usual’.            “I do?” The thought strikes her that it may be some segue into another of his lines, but she dismisses it for the sake of thinking better of him, for the day at least. “…it’s a bit longer than usual? I haven’t cut it in a while.” 

          Shrugging, she reaches out to prod at his cheek with an armored finger, as gingerly as she can.            “Are you… is your face alright?” It’s awkward, but it’s the best she can do, given the circumstances; what are the odds that she would run into him here and now of all days?

[armsthrifting]

That can’t be it, no.. “Are you sure..?” Because Inigo himself is fairly certain it was much darker a few days ago-- a few weeks ago? He doesn’t quite remember.. it has been a while, it feels like. The curiosity and confusion are both genuine, for once, surprisingly enough; one of his signature lines doesn’t follow it up. 

The confusion transitions into mild surprise when she reaches towards him and, uncharacteristically, prods at one of his cheeks. With one of her fingers. Gently? Strange, Inigo thinks.. considering he’s more or less learned to expect pain whenever she reaches a hand for him-- not that he doesn’t usually deserve it, because he does.

“Um..” it sounds.. awkward, maybe because it is, and the question throws him off the ball for a second before he’s right back up on it; balancing like a trained act. “Of course it’s alright! As pristine as ever, don’t you think?” It’s asked with a signature grin, all teeth, “Why do you ask? ..Does something look strange?!”

[fuhen]

happy birthday.

       He has been preparing this gift for months now. It wasn’t something very easy to do, let alone something that was at all quick. It took time and patience, delicacy and Gerome wanted it to be nothing less than perfect. It wasn’t easy to mirror Olivia’s outfit, especially when he hasn’t seen it in months ( and truthfully, he had never even paid much attention to it ). General knowledge and whatever seemed appropriate for a dancer were his only resources when crafting an outfit that suited Inigo’s body shape and tastes. 

       Coming up with the color scheme had proven itself to be the hardest part of making it; he had decided for a mix of shining golds, pure whites, pale blues and light grays that, as he remembers from the several outfits he has seen the prince in, seemed to suit him just fine, much better than dark blues and blood reds that he had, sadly, grown used to the other’s figure.

       A quick text message asks the other to meet up with him in the outskirts of Sector 6, somewhere they could have some privacy because he knows well Inigo wouldn’t want the stares he could possibly get upon unwrapping such gift. Dancers had, after all, quite revealing outfits. So he waits patiently, knows Inigo is expecting something ( anything ) related to his birthday, and as soon as the prince arrives, the rider makes no ceremonies.

       ❝ Happy birthday. ❞

       And though handing the gift ( so nicely wrapped, too ) only made Gerome all the more shy, he is quick about it. 

@armsthrifting

[armsthrifting]

The fact that the date had slipped Inigo’s mind most of the day wasn’t actually a big deal-- perhaps if they were back home, surrounded by people that kept better track of things like this than Inigo himself did, he wouldn’t have forgotten. He wouldn’t have assumed Gerome’s text (surprising in itself, because when did the wyvern rider ever contact him through the phone unless urgent?) was anything but serious. 

So when Inigo sees him, mouth opening to question the sudden demand to meet up, only to be silenced with two words he’d almost forgotten exist. The prince blinks a few times, confusion obvious on his face for a moment as the neatly wrapped gift is pushed into his hands.

“Ah,” is the first thing to come out of his mouth when the realization fully dawns on him. “I can’t believe I’d forgotten my own birthday!” It sounds almost silly, considering the circumstances-- still in an unfamiliar (mostly) city, just after the mayhem having been taking place.. it’s no wonder he’s forgotten almost entirely about it. And yet, for some reason, it’s even more surprising that Gerome’s remembered for him. But he doesn’t voice that.

But there’s hesitation in the unwrapping, of course, because it’s so well done and Inigo almost feels bad for ruining it when he finally does. The realization on his face shifts, then, into something a little more.. emotional, maybe. He knows what it is, of course, automatically. It’s not identical, no, the colours are different. They suit him more, in contrast to the way the softer colours suited his mother. And Inigo is absolutely guilty of the way he just stares, hands careful as he picks and sorts through each piece of fabric and material to look them over.

There are words on the tip of his tongue, of course, but Inigo’s always been the overemotional type-- keeping himself from crying by not talking was working the best, currently. So he waits, until he’s sure he’s not going to just burst into tears as soon as his mouth opens. “Gerome..” he hesitates for a second, though he doesn’t look up from his hands that shift the outfit in his hands, “Did you make this yourself..?” It sounds almost disbelieving, even if he already knows the answer; of course it was handmade. He knew the things Gerome could make with his hands, but this was something else entirely.

[casanovass-deactivated20161227]

Fun, huh? Well, he does like having fun.

[ ✉ ] happy birthday hunny! [ ✉ ] you’re growing up so fast i could cry [ ✉ ] what type of fun did you have in mind ;)

[armsthrifting]

Right as you’d said you’d hope no one took it the wrong way, too.

to: zelos!!! from: inigo!!

[ 💌 ] thank you! [ 💌 ] though, that second bit..

You squint a little.

[ 💌 ] do you even know how old i am to begin with!

Probably not.

[ 💌 ] um-- [ 💌 ] i.. suppose that depends? [ 💌 ] considering the time..?

[panwati-a]

      Usually, she’d ignore a text this late, but this is somewhat alarming– and so blearily, she swipes her fingers across the screen to reply. 

To: Inigo From: Ari

[ txt ] You know someone’s going to take that the wrong way, right? [ txt ] As in, someone is probably going to think you’re soliciting the whole city. [ txt ] Happy birthday though. [ txt ] If you’d told me sooner, I would have baked you a cake. 

[armsthrifting]

He..

hadn’t considered that.

to: ari! from: inigo!!

[ 💌 ] well.. let’s not get into that. [ 💌 ] hopefully no one will think of it that way!

Hopefully.

[ 💌 ] thank you! [ 💌 ] oh, that’s nice of you!! i wouldn’t want to put you through the trouble, though.. [ 💌 ] i’m sure it’d be delicious!!

[armsthrifting]

They gave out phones for them to be used, right?

And what better reason-- with 45 minutes left.

to: all contacts! from: inigo!!

[ 💌 ] soooo, [ 💌 ] i assume everyone besides some friends are unaware of the date, so i’m going to inform you all!

Like the good person the crown prince of Ylisse obviously is. At nearly midnight. On a Sunday.

[ 💌 ] it’s my birthday today! [ 💌 ] or, well, it’s almost over. [ 💌 ] if anyone’s up for a little fun--

Really could’ve been worded better.

[adamantinam]

💐 ℭ𝔬𝔪𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔢

                          armsthrifting

      The day had been meant to be dedicated to training, but when she realized the date, she’d thought perhaps a stop for tea might be good. The whole time, she chided herself for being so sentimental, given that she knew this bordered on the saccharine for her, but even so, she persisted. After all, it wasn’t as if it could hurt–            “Ow–!”           At least, not her.           Turning, an apology is ready on her lips, only to fall short as she realizes the person she’s literally run into is the one she’s making today’s effort in honor of.

          “–Inigo?!”

[armsthrifting]

A second run-in with the suit of armor that’d given Inigo a bloody, nearly broken nose once before really wasn’t on the list of things he wanted to do today. But the actual person that came along with said armor was much more pleasant-- usually, at least! 

Though, she’s a little more surprised than Inigo figures she should be..

Also--

“Kjelle!” It sounds happy, of course, because why wouldn’t he be happy to see her? “--You look.. different?” It’s more of a statement than a question, honestly, but the tone doesn’t really show it. Inigo’s head tilts and he leans closer, blinking a few times, “Did you.. did something happen to your hair?”

[gilmobobo]

HBD INIGO!! hope you dance in a field of flowers today baby

[gilmobobo]

the flirt

[fuhen]

shine.

       It’s not something he’s used to; gathering, fun, moments of peace that follows how disastrous everything else had been a day prior. It’s the second time it happens, yet the rider does not see him any comfortable with how matters were treated like they were nothing. Yet he shows up, dresses up, helps another with clothes and, for a reason or another, he’s there; Minerva on his shoulder and self secured away from any crowds that could form.

       But he watches intently, as he would always, watches the people in the room and watches outside. Watches enough to notice blue hair up in one of the decks scattered around the place, impressively alone as Gerome wouldn’t have expected to be.

       Being alone had always been more of the rider’s thing than the prince’s, especially at gatherings such as those.

       ❝ I didn’t think I would find you alone. ❞ Not when there’s so many people of interest down there, is what he wants to add, but does not. At the same time, too, he knows Inigo enjoys some alone time, enjoys distancing himself from crowds and loud noises, enjoys taking a breather. Those were often the times Gerome would approach him, too, just like now. ❝ How are you enjoying the ball? ❞

@armsthrifting

[armsthrifting]

Inigo’s friendly, open-- he’s warm, being surrounded by so many people. It was something he enjoyed, genuinely; being in a crowd, being encompassed by people. As long as he wasn’t the main focus, as long as he could have idle conversations and speak with others normally, it was something he was at home with. But that’s also not to say that he never got overwhelmed, because taking a breather was something he needed to do more often than not.

And one of the many decks that over looked the wife array of people below.. well, it was the perfect spot! Inigo arms rest against one of the railings, chin propped in his hands-- though his body shifts and eyes slide to the side at the sound of a voice approaching. He knew, automatically, of course.

“Just taking a break!” Inigo responds, fingers wiggling in a makeshift greeting towards the redhead before he looks back to the many people below. Gerome’s question makes Inigo hum aloud, as if he really needed to think about it. “It’s nice, really. It feels like home,” the last bit is more murmured than said in a tone to match Inigo’s usual disposition.

He shifts, though, standing up straight to instead lean back against the railing instead; arms stretching above his head briefly. “And you? I’m surprised you really showed up,” it’s teasing, of course, “These kinds of events usually aren’t your thing, you know.”

[fortiscor-blog1]

@armsthrifting​

He feels a little more than nostalgic towards this whole situation the more he thinks about it, the more he stands here next to someone who has been his friend for far too long - in and outside of the castle, in and outside of war. This may not be the Inigo he knows and is far from the man he’s fought a third war with, but he feels familiar enough to place his trust in him again. 

After all, it’s Inigo. How can he say no or ever abandon him?

He glances to the scenery around them - from the lights to the food to the music - smiling a smile that’s equal parts sad and happy. Odin can’t help his soft laugh, elbowing Inigo gently.

“Hey, this feels like home, doesn’t it?” He pauses as he shifts his footing, smile growing. “I feel as if we haven’t been in formal robes since we were kids in the castle, when Lissa would yell at us for running when we shouldn’t have been and when Lucina was already perfect at everything.”

It was just all too familiar, yet being grown up was a different story.

[armsthrifting]

It’s almost like seeking the blond out is too easy-- the two of you seem to gravitate towards each other by habit, by having grown up together, by having fought so many battles together. That seems a little too sentimental for just running into him at the ball, but Inigo can’t say he’d been expecting it.. for some reason, or another. It hadn’t exactly dawned on him that Owain would be here, would be interested in something like this like Inigo had always been.

The silence between them is made up for with the noise around them, and Inigo is at least a little content to just be standing there.

Though, the elbow to his side startles Inigo and he looks over, blue eyes blinking a few times before a smile follows up the look of confusion at Owain’s words. “Yeah,” he agrees, because really, it does. Down to all the beautiful people, everyone dressed nicely, the scenery and the music..

There were just a few people missing.

“It seems much more.. extravagant, though, than the balls back home,” Inigo comments, fingers fiddling with rolled up sleeves of a pristine dress shirt. “I’m still not so sure I’m.. you know, fit.. for these kinds of clothes. They’re so constricting!” Not that Inigo doesn’t appreciate looking good because he knows he does, “Are you having a nice time, at least?”

[casanovass-deactivated20161227]

@armsthrifting​

You don’t know why you’re surprised to run into him here. The whole city seems to be attending tonight, and for good reason. The host had certainly went all out – running with the theme you admit you knew very little if nothing about, but it’s magical, captivating, and Inigo definitely paints a pretty picture among the scenery of the evening. It doesn’t matter that there’s been radio silence between you two for a while now, you lapse easily back into your routine of teasing the ever-loving hell out of the poor boy.

“My, my, don’t you clean up nice.” He was handsome before, of course, but the old saying is that clothes make the man, and they weren’t lying. The soft blues are a good look for him, you think. “I feel bad for all the hearts you’ll be breaking tonight.”

[armsthrifting]

You don’t recognize him, just for a second, and you aren’t really sure why-- it’s more than obvious! Maybe it was the change in clothes? The way his hair was styled differently? Which, really, was very pretty.. in your opinion, at least. And the way you perk up when he approaches you is probably very obvious, your head tilting before your eyebrows raise at the words-- 

And a considerably subtle blush threatens you, just for a second, before you offer a smile. Work through the shyness, Inigo. You’ve got this. They’re just compliments, it’s fine!

But he’s staring--

“Ahaha, well,” you start, ignoring the strings pulling at your brain telling you over and over that he’s staring because that isn’t important, “I’m not so sure about breaking any hearts! I don’t think I have the heart for that.” Which was almost too true, really. “And what about you, hm?” Your head tilts in the other direction, “Your hair looks really nice!”

[armsthrifting]

someone made him dress nicely

                    inigo’s midsummer ball 2016 outfit!

[armsthrifting]

× i may fall

[fuhen]

       Laurent is right; Inigo is unable of hating any of his friends, any of the kids from the future. He is unable of hating Gerome, for some reason the rider cannot comprehend. He has said horrible words to him, in the future and now, words that had driven Inigo mad, that drove him to tears. And all of those times, the prince had been unable to hate Gerome, unable to go through all the assumptions the rider went over his mind, over and over, believing so fiercely he would never be able to talk to Inigo again.

       Just like before, too, he apologized. While it doesn’t surprise him, to see the other apologizing, it does catch him off guard when he apologizes for getting angry, something so silly that Gerome didn’t think should be reason for apologies. He had reacted rightfully so, reacted as one would have expected him to. 

       Despite knowing he had been wrong, painfully so, there would be no reasons for him ( or rather, perhaps it would be too early for them ) to have that conversation with Inigo now. Not while the blame still seemed to be all on him, and not simply partial.

       ❝ You don’t have to. ❞ Anyone would have gotten angry, after all. ❝ But that doesn’t mean I don’t accept your apology. ❞ Because he does, in a way, even if he sees no reason for it to even exist in the first place– even if it’s not the reason he wanted Inigo to truly apologize. ❝ …I, too. I’m sorry. ❞ And that’s when he thinks such thing is out of character for him. It’s not that Gerome wasn’t the kind not to apologize, but it was something that often left his mouth. He is a prideful man, stubborn as well, someone who believes he is right when he rightfully is, but is perfectly able to see his mistakes, to see where he had been wrong. 

       He could only hope Inigo was just the same. ❝ I said horrible things to you, things that I had no rights to say, and things you didn’t have to hear. You were perfectly allowed to get angry, and I’m sorry. ❞ 

[armsthrifting]

“I do have to,” Inigo almost cuts Gerome off, insistently, barely managing to swallow the words back until he’s finished-- “You were understandably upset. Your reactions were absolutely within reason, though.. I suppose.. the wording could’ve been-- never mind! That doesn’t matter right now!!” Inigo is more convincing himself than he is Gerome, really, and he takes a second to straighten out his train of thought.

“I got angry because you.. doubted me. But I also understand why you doubted me.. now, at least,” because at the time, the only thing Inigo understood was that he was upset and that Gerome was upset and he hadn’t wanted to even speak to the wyvern rider any longer. But taking time to reflect, to really think it through (for once), his own reactions seem to be the more unnecessary ones.

And it goes to say that Gerome’s own apology surprises the prince. He can’t really recall the redhead having apologized to him before, it’s a new experience-- maybe a little unwelcome, considering what’s actually brought them here. But Inigo doesn’t insist against the apology, because as much he knows he’s at fault, he also knows neither of them are blameless.

He does, however, sigh-- and hesitantly approach the table the rider sits at. To sit across from him, because boundaries were important; as much as he just wanted to drape himself all over Gerome as usual.. now really was not the time nor place for that.

“I accept,” it’s that simple, apology accepted, and Inigo’s arms cross on the table so he can prop his chin on them and tilt his head-- two-toned blue eyes meeting with.. mask. Although, it does make the dancer that little bit warmer to know that dark  brown lay beneath it. “I feel as though the whole situation was.. badly... approached, if you will,” to say the very least, “I could’ve chosen my words more wisely, I admit..” and maybe, you know, dropped a few hints. But Inigo digressed. 

[armsthrifting]

× i may fall

[fuhen]

       If he had known, he wouldn’t have done such thing.

       Truthfully, it has never truly been something to be concerned about; it was never something he was in the need of at the valley. But money could only last so long, and resources had to be bought for the bigger picture– even if, currently, the rider doubts there will be any reason to finish what he had months ago started. If he had known he would find Inigo of all people in such place, he wouldn’t have asked for the job, wouldn’t have joined, wouldn’t have put himself in such situation after days and days of avoiding and questioning and wondering and, ultimately, hating himself.

       Yet he remains as composed as he must; for others, it’s clear as the day Gerome isn’t comfortable, wishes to get up and leave and gods, if he would hold Minerva’s reins once again and soar through the skies, farther and farther from his current problem. But he doesn’t move, not a single inch, and simply stares at the man who walks into the room he’s currently in and it’s easy, so easy to see he isn’t at all comfortable either.

       For all things considered, he would have thought Inigo was the one to bear feelings of hatred – but Laurent had been right, always is.

       ❝ No. ❞ There is no denying of the first statement given; while the rider has, clearly, been avoiding the dancer, it is not like they shared paths all that often. He figures, too, that there are things he should say; but Gerome has never been good at dealing with those kind of problems. They had always happened with Inigo, in the end. ❝ … I was under the impression you were the one who would. ❞ For all the things said to him, all the horrible things that drove the prince to tears, he had been set on being hated by him. ❝ Do you not? ❞

[armsthrifting]

Inigo doesn’t move from his place near the door, arms at his sides shifting, hands behind his back as he leans against the wood behind him. He has no intention of leaving, not as of yet at least, and he’s content to stay quiet until Gerome decides to speak to him. Well, not exactly content, but Inigo’s always been the stubborn type.

The prince looks up, though, at the answer.

Even now, it’s surprising. More than ever, actually, it’s not the answer Inigo expects. 

“That I would?” It comes out before Inigo really thinks it through, the tone almost confused briefly before Gerome poses his own question. Eyebrows furrow for a minute or two in thought and his head tilts, two-toned blue eyes focused intently on a face he could no longer read. It’s.. easier, he thinks, to really tell what Gerome’s thinking when he can actually see his eyes. It’s obvious, but something that dawns on him only now.

“I don’t,” he answers, “I don’t think I ever could,” it’s honest, almost unbearably, but Inigo isn’t the type to hold back his honesty. There’s silence, after his answer, and for the first time in a very long time, he feels nervous around the wyvern rider. 

A sense of anxiety he hadn’t felt in ages.

“I.. did, however, want to.. apologize,” Inigo starts, hesitantly, “For my reaction at the time. For getting angry at you,” for many things, it would seem. 

[armsthrifting]

× i may fall

@fuhen

If there’s one person Inigo’s not exactly expecting to see, it’s him.

How long had it been, now? Weeks? Day after day after day of nothing, no means of contact, no effort, nothing could be said on Inigo’s own behalf either. It’s not exactly that he didn’t know where to start, where to look, but the fact that it was hard to bring himself to. It wasn’t often that Inigo let his pessimistic thoughts deter him from the things he knew he needed to do-- but this situation was more delicate than the rest.

More his fault than he’d thought at first. 

The prince stutters in his steps when he walks into the tailoring room, feet catching themselves with all the grace he possesses in his body to keep him upright. Fingers grip at the door frame beside him when Gerome looks up, and Inigo can see every muscle tense-- or maybe he was just feeling his own tense. Who really knew?

Inigo hesitates, hand dropping from the door, fingers twitching idly at his side. Fight or flight instincts have a brief battle before he shakes his head almost vigorously and stomps the remainder of the way into the room, firmly shutting the door behind himself. The burst of courage lessens as he turns from the door to face the wyvern rider once more, hands balling into fists at his sides before they loosen and relax.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” it’s not an accusation, not at all, it’s a fact and one Inigo is very aware of, “.. Do.. you hate me now?” It’s a question he asks all too often, even now, even in this situation. But what else is he supposed to think? Both of them had been rightfully angry at the time, and Inigo can’t say he’d blame the redhead, But he’s not the only one at fault here.

[exsoleille]

     ❝ You were in… the same circumstances?❞

     Confusion replaces discomfort when he mentions being in the same position she was in once upon a time. If he meant encountering his parent in their youth, then it was beyond a coincidence. As impossible as it sounded, traversing through time was apparently something that could be done. This was her Father before he had her, before he married her Mother, before he even went to Nohr– but he was still himself.

     He spoke as if it was old news. If he had been in this position before her birth, then it was possible that it was an important piece of his largely mysterious past that had only been hinted to her growing up. Even now, at eighteen, he had yet to tell her about what had happened in his youth. Always curious about her Father at her age, and only discovering tidbits about him and her Grandmother, a positive way to look at this situation was a way of learning more about him. 

     Right, that was the way. Stay positive. 

     ❝ Oh, right! You gave it to me when I was little– it was Grandmother’s, right? That’s what you told me then, ❞ she had been so happy then, on one of his rare visits. Memories of staring at it in awe as he placed it on her head came flooding back. Being given a gift was always a joy, but one so special had such meaning. It was a bonus that talking about the memento she wore each day helped her calm down, something she desperately needed. 

     ❝ You see, when I was growing up, we didn’t actually have the chance to spend much time together. It was the same with Mother, too. Any children born were, erm, sheltered, I suppose, to protect them from getting caught up in all that was going on– is still going on, since I left that behind before coming here. It was really in our best interest! I was glad to be given it and to look after it for you while you and Mother worked for peace with everyone else. ❞ That said, it did result in her growing up a little too fast. 

[armsthrifting]

“Yes, actually,” Inigo answers almost offhandedly, pausing for a moment to think. He can only imagine how much she actually knows-- about him, that is. Not that Inigo himself is an incredibly secretive person, no, but.. he figures he just hadn’t gotten around to explaining aforementioned circumstances to her? It’s hard to think into, really, because the type of life Inigo’s led.. well, despite being born into royalty; it hasn’t been the best life. 

He can see reason in avoiding telling a child about such things, of course, but she wasn’t a child anymore, was she?

“It’s a complicated story, though.. not the happiest of tales, either. But if you’d like to hear about it, I wouldn’t mind. You don’t seem to know much, and really, that hardly seems fair, don’t you think?” Not that this wasn’t still a little.. odd, but he could at least spare the same courtesy he was being shown. She was clearing up quite a few misunderstandings-- he could only hope to clear up the remainder. 

As in, you know, ‘Laslow’.

“Ah, yes! It belonged-- technically, now, still belongs to mother,” her grandmother, as Soleil said; Inigo can only imagine how she would feel. Maybe similar to this situation-- awkward, unsure, but welcoming. His mother had always been a warm person, he can’t even come close to imagining her being anything but accepting.

Inigo listens, though, blinking a few times at the mention of a mother of her own. That shouldn’t be surprising, no, he had to have-- never mind. Not the train of thought to be taking now. Blue eyebrows raise curiously, though, “What is going on? I assume there’s conflict of some sort..”