Description: One flees the irritating masses of Southtown. The other simply follows his feet and the call of the wind. A small village in Germany brings Ninon Beart and Vince LaRose together unexpectedly for a second encounter. Though civility seems strained at first, the two very different teens find some intriguing common ground between them. In the end, Ninon believes that the swordsman may not be as puerile as those from whom she seeks solace.
The vagabond's trail continues! Vince's strange little retreat that began with Egypt brought him all the way to India. The next place he's found himself? GERMANY. How he managed this is really a matter of plain old fortune and a marked carelessness for where each footstep falls.
In short, Vince hopped another boat. It's just now docking at a nice, small village. Nothing big or impressive, compared to what all Germany -truly- has to offer, but a nice, quaint little hamlet.
Perched on the deck, Vince pinches the frontal edge of his hat between index finger and thumb of his left hand to prevent it from blowing away, cape flaring out behind him with his left leg propped upon the ship's edge. Were it not for the modern, if not more commonly dressed figures moving about the boat, Vince's swashbuckler-esque attire might lend to the impression that this is a pirate ship.
When the ship reaches port and halts, Vince hefts his leather backpack upon right shoulder and hops down to the wooden boardwalk below. Everyone else uses the boarding plank like normal people, transporting crates.
A small little hamlet is perfect for the type of girl who wants to be left alone. Having figured that going unannounced for a visit to an entirely different country was a good way to avoid her obnoxious older sister, Ninon Beart had flown to Germany entirely on a whim. It was no difficult matter. Both of her parents spent so much time doing things that made their family money that they never had time to spend with their own offspring. Why should she care about spending some of their money? It was all she had of her parents after all, and all that she really needed. As could be judged by the fact that she was actively avoiding her older sister, she is not a person who much cares about her family.
It wasn't until she arrived that the girl realized how poor her choice had been. The village in question was hardly large enough to have its own airport, she'd be forced to ride public transportation to even get there. She'd recieved more then a few odd looks. People just didn't dress that way in this area. She, of course, didn't care. These were people she'd never see again. Their opinions were meaningless.
The village is small, and the room the girl had reserved for herself was close to the docks. It was not a little hotel, the girl had reserved an entire small home in her own name despite the fact she had no intention of being there very long. Just as the ship pulls in, so does Ninon herself. Carrying a frilly black parasol and an equally dark colored suitcase, she's a girl that stands out like a sore thumb in the middle of the little village.
His landing on the dock is soft, merely a 'pat' of boots against the wooden planks which brings him into a crouch. Vince is soon at his full height again, head turning this way and that to fully take in his surroundings. And.. what surroundings they appear to be. Cabin-style homes, old-style pubs, cobble roads... exquisite!
But something is a bit in contrast with everything else. Namely, a giant parasol, black in color. Vince quirks an eyebrow at this, and decides that the most out-of-place-looking person would be the absolute best one to talk to. So it's with a purpose that he strides to the shorter figure, smiling with all the confidence of the wayfarers in olden times.
"Greetings!," he offers when in polite range, not yet really -seeing- the girl he's addressing due to frilly accessory. "What is this place called?"
And her private retreat is shattered before she can even enter her home. And by a voice she remembers as well. Ninon rarely forgets a voice, or a face. And while she can't see the face with her back turned, she doesn't really need to.
"I forget." The girl speaks without turning or revealing her face. Let us see if he, too, has a memory that matches her own. She isn't bothering to try and disguise her voice. Something like that is beneath her. "Though had I known more about it before I made the trip, I may have merely stayed home. It does not seem worth my time to be here."
There is something remarkably familiar about the voice. A certain.. inner-laced disdain, but perhaps not necessarily guided at him. The world around her? It's clearly a feminine voice, and the posture is as well. Nevermind the parasol being a dead giveaway.
Still, not enough to truly go on.
So Vince opts to take this at face value, setting his left fist to hip in a perplexed manner. "Whatever for?," he asks. "I've been here only a minute, and I already love the elegant simplicity. The lack of boisterous noise, the communal air..." As if to indicate the very space around them with his shoulders, Vince turns to the side. Cape-swish.
The dress would probably be another good indication that this person is, indeed, a female. Unless its simply a slender cross-dressing man!
But no, this is not the case, as the person behind the parasol turns to reveal the purple-eyed gaze of one Ninon Beart. The disdain in her voice is apparent on her face as well as she turns to address the lavishly dressed Vince. "I, however, find a place like this bland and without taste. While I can appreciate not being around the faceless, mindless masses, I somehow doubt I will find a place to get a good cup of tea here. Fortunately, I have brought my own." A faint smile, one devoid of humor, touches her face. "I must have left quite an impression upon you. You followed me all the way to Germany."
"Ah, Ninon," Vince surmises when she turns around, a look of mild surprise on his face. Surprise, indeed, but only mild. See, he's currently kicking himself for not realizing who it was sooner. It all makes sense now. "While I grant they may not have good tea here, there -are- some delicacies Germany has to offer. And in a place like this, they're always made with a bit more care and consideration. I recommend having a look around, all the same."
His expression eases into a pleasant one again, as per his default. Apparently her dour attitude and miniature metaphorical stormcloud is not enough to sap the charm from this place for him. "As for whether or not I followed you... that depends. If you came here on whim, then I may as well have followed you, since I did the same. In fact, I had no idea where I was even going - hence my previous question. Though now that I've arrived, I'll likely stay a day or two before moving on. What of you?"
Yes. Ninon. There is no one quite like her in all the world. No one that thinks quite like she does. It is probably for the best. There is little chance that the girl would be able to get along with herself. She doesn't find herself annoying, but if she had to look at herself from the outside, her opinion might be a bit different. Or perhaps not. She's far too arrogant to think of herself in anything but the most positive of lights.
Seeming to ignore the man for a moment, the girl takes the setting in, her eyes finally resting on a building in the distance. "I thought it might be nice to spend some time alone for awhile. In that town, I have to put up with dealing with so many fools. So many people that jabber on meaningless about things that have no value. Do they truely believe that anyone cares whom is dating whom? What grade they got on the most recent tests? Such idle chit-chat is meaningless to me. In this world the thing I value most is myself. And that is why I decided on a little holiday. This place, I thought it far enough for Southtown to not run into anyone I knew. It would seem that I was mistaken."
Vince faces her fully and folds his arms over his chest, right arm over left. The look he's giving her is now pointed. "Not before, but you most certainly are -now-. I would hardly say you 'know' me. Certainly not enough to constitute clumping me in with everyone else. I would hope you don't consider me so bothersome." His head inclines, icy blue eyes peering at her violets. The pleasantry has bled from his face in favor of a more humorless, slightly agitated look. "Or if I -am-, I'll simply bid you adieu and find someone more interesting and less self-indulgent to talk with. Certainly different from your sister, at any rate..."
If he was hoping to get the girl to change her tune, then Vince is going to find himself extremely disappointed. Ninon is a girl deeply set into her ways. It was, in part, because of a sheltered life. She had raised herself with the help of a strict grandmother and an older sister that she found obnoxious. She had never really experienced family life. Her grandmother had instilled the fighting arts in the girl that she now was a master of and nothing more. Left to her own devices, she eventually grew to find the world around her distasteful.
This is why she isn't all that disturbed at the thought of this fellow not approving of her way of life. She has never really had anyone to depend upon but herself. Why should she care about others? Particularly someone she barely knew? Still, he picked the right sort of words to use. She 'doesn't know him'? That is close enough to a challange to prevent the girl from simply dismissing him. "You say I do not know you? That I cannot judge you one way or another? Very well. I will concede that. We have only spoken briefly in the past, after all. So, how are you different? What sets you apart from the masses?"
"That would be telling," chides Vince humorlessly. "I'll not struggle for your interest when it's so balefully cast in moderation. But I will warrant you this: all you need do is but open your eyes and look at the person before you. Does he truly appear common?" The look shifts into one of incredulism. This lasts for only a few seconds before he sets about fidgeting with his hat to ensure its tilted -just- at the right angle for maximum rakish appeal, then sets his left hand casually to the hilt of his sword. Not in a threatening posture by any means, but with the relaxed ease of a standby position.
"Either way, -I- would very much like to know where I've landed," Vince addendums. "It's a sad day when a witch cannot be called upon for guidance. But alas, I'll make due." This light jab is given with a hint of mirth, finally.
This time it seems the words chosen bring amusement to the black-clad girl more then anything else. She grabs hold of one particularly thing said. This seems to be a habit of hers. "Not all witches are as 'helpful' as my sister, I am afraid." A moment's silence. "As for you, when I look at you I see a man who appears to be lost in the past. A man who seems to have drawn his fashion sense from old movies, as well as his mannerisms. One who appears to have forgotten we live in the twenty-first century. That is what I see when I look upon you." Another pause. "That is, to say, there is nothing 'common' about you at all. You carry yourself with something that resembles pride. You do not seem discouraged by what others think of you. This could mean one of two things. It could simply mean that you are a delusional fool. It could also mean that you think enough of yourself to not be discouraged by others opinion of you. That would, in a sense, put you on a similiar level as myself."
As for the sword? It certainly does not go unnoticed, but she doesn't appear to feel threatened.
A rueful smile touches to Vince's lips. "You misunderstand. I never said your sister was useful. I simply said you're different." There's a pause before he adds, "Take it how you will," dubiously.
Vince's head lulls to the side in a feigned display of thoughtfulness. "As for the other thing... I favor the ages past. Honor meant something then. Strength and skill stood for more than mere entertainment. And while I recognize my choice of dress may seem strange to those around me, their very mannerisms seem strange to -me-. Rather it be that I receive odd looks for my clothes than for a lack of justice or charity. That aside," says Vince, hand lifting from his sword to waft dismissively, "a LaRose is above the jeers of commoners."
The two are certainly different. And yet there things about them that are the same. Both Beart sisters single-mindedly follow what they believe in. Mignon believes that she can help the world. Ninon believes that the world is there to help her. The two rarely see eye to eye, but Mignon seems to not hold it against her 'cute little sissy'.
"Ages past, hmm? I suppose that would explain the manner of your dress." She doesn't sound like she's being judgemental, merely stating the facts. The girl herself looks like she escaped from someone's doll house, so her clothing make her stand out as well. It must look quite strange to the locals seeing the two of them converse.
"But you cannot live in the past forever. The world will change and you will be left behind. Lament for what is lost if you wish, and hold onto what you consider important. However, living as an island in the ocean of this world will not be an easy task. This is something I understand well. My sister is a fool. It is up to me alone to uphold the good name of the Beart family. Thus, I understand well what it means to live a life that others might not agree with. I have simply learned not to care. Much like yourself, I hold no stock with the opinions of the unwashed masses around me."
Her response merits a soft, bemused and somewhat melodious laughter. "I'm not living in the past! I'm an element -of- the past, if anything, bringing forgotten values to the present. Elsewise, I might be a bit more harsh on the dress code around me, and a bit more... strict.. on unbecoming behavior?," he suggests. "I hear it quite a bit, though - 'Don't live in the past'. I do not have to embrace the somewhat deteriorated sociology of today in order to be living in the present. I need only accept it for what it is." His shoulders lift carelessly. "Which I do. I most certainly do not detach myself from those around me - I simply hold myself to a different set of rules and standards. A personal code, I suppose."
Nevermind that he's absolutely in love with the past ages, to the point of prefering doing things the old, inconvenient way. The leather backpack slung on his shoulder should be testimony of this, since apparently he's travelled a long way with nothing else. That and the sword. Can't forget the sword.
"I appreciate your insight, though, Witch." Vince hitches on that and furrows his brow. "Ah, I do apologize if that seems derrogatory. I didn't intend it that way. Would you prefer I call you something else?"
Ninon herself isn't entirely against the olden days. She sews all of her own clothes for instance. Of course this is as much about her own vanity as anything else, she doesn't want clothes not crafted by her own hands to touch her body. She is quite peculiar that way. She'll only accept it if she really, really has to.
Of course there is the fact that she actually enjoys it as well. The arts of the seamstress calm her, and are perhaps her biggest time consumer. She would never refer to it as a hobby, however. It was entirely essential to her lifestyle.
"No insult taken. I am what I am and I feel no shame in it." She turns, picking up her suitcase with one hand, her parasol hiding the rest of her from sight. "You are a strange man. But you do not strike me as a fool." She takes a few steps before stopping. "There is a small villa just a short distance from here. That is where I will be staying while I am here." After that, the only sound she has to offer is the sound of her boot heels clicking as she walks away.
Log created on 20:09:55 09/09/2008 by Vince, and last modified on 15:20:40 09/10/2008.