For Prumano Week 2019: Day 6 - Art AU / Language Barrier
Names:
Ingrid - Nyo!Prussia
Fábián - Nyo!Hungary
Sophia - Nyo!Austria
Chiara - Nyo!Romano
Ingrid has been disinterestedly staring at the same painting for what feels like hours. It's not that she doesn't think it's gorgeous work of art, because it is, but things start to lose their shine once you see them every single day for three weeks straight.
It's not even of her own volition. Fábián has a project based on some of the works present and has staunchly dragged Ingrid with him. As to what purpose, Ingrid is a little unsure, but she suspects it's to carry Fábián's shit around. Sophia is also around somewhere, turning up her nose disdainfully at everything, particularly at Ingrid, those two times she has passed by.
So she sits in her favourite gallery, filled with seventeenth century Baroque art. She likes the detail, the ability to get lost in every little thing, and it's fascinating to her.
Or, well, it had been, for the first week.
Sighing, Ingrid glances around, finds herself mostly alone—with an old couple listening to an audio tour and an art student seated on the floor, craning their neck to observe and redrew one particularly detailed painting—and she slowly gets to her feet. Maybe there's something she can help Fábián with.
However, she doesn't get far because when she turns the corner, she bumps into another woman, sending her notebook to the floor. They both ducked to retrieve it, bumping heads together.
"I'm so sorry," Ingrid says in German, quickly snatching the notebook as the woman cusses in what sounds like Italian.
Oh. Tourist.
"Oh, oh." Ingrid helps her up and continues to babble in German, making wild gestures as if they would clarify whatever she's saying. "Really, really sorry. Though you can't understand. Obviously. Uh. Apologies. Feel bad." She mimes looking sad and then shoves the notebook back into the woman's hand.
The woman is giving her a very odd look, but Ingrid misses it in favour of being floored by how beautiful she is. Wild curls in a short, but very flattering hairstyle, light brown eyes that border on golden, and a myriad of freckles make Ingrid forget where she is for a moment.
She swallows and then tries for a smile, and she would have liked to call it a charming smile, but she probably just looks like an idiot.
The woman still hasn't said anything, but also isn't making a move to go anywhere just yet, so Ingrid just continues to talk to fill the space.
"So, what's an Italian doing in Germany of all places? I mean, obviously we have nice things here, duh, but, uh, this is a stupid thread of conversation. Then again, you don't even speak German, so I should probably just shut up and let you do your thing. Right. Yes."
Ingrid nods. The woman gives her another long look. Ingrid takes a step back, then reconsiders.
"Uh. You're really pretty. I mean, you know. Good looking." Ingrid's hand involuntarily moves around her own face before she realizes how weird that must look.
The woman looks amused now. Ingrid smiles again, then points to where she had intended to go before. "I'll, uh. Just… go. Now. Yeah. Sorry again. Um. Have a nice day? No, I mean. Have a nice day. No question marks; you deserve to have a nice day." Ingrid nods again, ducking past the woman, who watches her curiously. "Yup. Yes. Uh. Bye!"
Feeling like an utter idiot, she all but runs away, finds Sophia and drags her to Fábián because good lord does she need to have a distraction. Sophia complains about being manhandled, of course she does, but she stops complaining once she realizes Ingrid isn't rising to any of the bait.
"What in the world is wrong with you?" she asks, a little huffily as Ingrid deposits her on a bench behind Fábián. He turns around from where he has been setting up his cameras, following Ingrid's pacing with a raised eyebrow.
Ingrid wails softly as she sits down next to Sophia, who primly moves her skirt away. "I'm so fucking awkward."
"No surprise there," Fábián says dryly, taking a seat on Ingrid's other side. "What'd you do now, Inge?"
"Stupid."
Fábián snorts while Sophia purses her lips to prevent herself from doing the same.
"That should be nothing new for you," Sophia says.
Ingrid groans as Fábián slings an arm around her shoulders. "Come, come, tell us about your woes."
"It's just—" Ingrid gestures. "I bumped into this girl and she was just so pretty."
"Pretty, huh? Pretty how?" Fábián asks.
"Pretty smoking hot."
Fábián whistles lowly. Sophia looks mildly affronted.
"You are such a barbarian."
"Shush, Sophia. She ran away. That just makes her a coward."
Ingrid whines pitifully. "I made such a fool out of myself. Without even speaking the same language."
Fábián makes a quiet 'ah' of understanding while Sophia sighs.
"Well, perhaps you weren't meant to be in that case," Sophia says. "Stupidity transcends language after all."
"Hear hear." Fábián laughs and claps Ingrid's shoulder before returning to his project.
Ingrid rubs her face tiredly. "You guys are of no help."
Sophia pats her back. "There, there. Pretty girls come and go. You'll be okay," she says in such an emotionless tone of voice that Ingrid is tempted to shove her off the bench. But she isn't five anymore, so she settles for sticking out her tongue and making a face, which Sophia returns, before stalking away.
This time she doesn't even make it around the corner before she bumps into someone—into the woman—again.
"Oh my God," Ingrid begins, but is immediately silenced by the woman pressing her hand against her mouth.
The woman smiles, leans closer and says, in perfect German, "To answer your previous enquiries. I'm here on holiday. I didn't mind your rambling, especially not the bit about me being a pretty. And thank you. My day has been quite nice actually and it certainly improved."
Ingrid doesn't think her face could be any more red than it currently is and she laughs nervously. "Uh. Whoops." Ingrid hesitantly holds out her hand. "Nice to meet you? I'm Ingrid."
The woman takes her hand and pulls it up to press a small kiss to Ingrid's knuckles. Ah. So she could blush more still.
"Very nice to meet you. I'm Chiara," she says. "Would you like to have coffee in the restaurant here?"
"Yeah—" Ingrid cleared her throat. "I mean. Yes. That would be cool."
"Cool," Chiara echoes and falls into step as Ingrid hesitantly begins to walk toward the staircase.
Originally posted on the 24th of August 2019 on AO3.