Each step he takes is light, gentle, but unsure. Each step he takes is another raindrop dodged. It's enrapturing. Olivia can't help but lose herself watching her son's feet. His heels don't touch the ground; he bounces on his toes every time, raising and lowering his body with each fluid movement. His arms never stop moving, circling around each raindrop as if he were untouched by them all. She knows for a fact that they're touching him, but his movements are so graceful that she can't help but see otherwise.
Inigo turns several times, his eyes raised to the sky. His mouth is curled in a serene smile; something so opposite of the other two personalities he displays towards others. There is no philandering. There is no fear. Only peace. However the rain give him an illusion of sadness; the droplets Olivia can see on his face look like tears running down his cheeks
After the fourth pirouette the dance ends in a bow; he is bent down low at the waist, his right arm bent in front of him and his left raised at an almost perpendicular angle. He remains in this position for a few moments, before standing straight again. His eyes raise to the sky, and through the rain she can see that he is indeed crying. As Inigo lowers his eyes to his left hand, her look follows. Gazing upon the ring she saw, a realization hits her. Her son had just performed his variation of the dance she had taught him and named after him.
Indigo Rain.
She feels a tear stream down her cheek, followed by several more. Though she is his mother, he still mourns for the one he lost. It's a memorial for her future self, and her mind can't help but wander.
Each step she had shown him must have been light, gentle, but unsure. Each step she had shown him must have been another raindrop dodged. It must have been enrapturing.