Post by Miguel D'Cruz on Apr 19, 2012 17:23:51 GMT -7
(Language... Spanish language. While rated mature- it's only mature if you know the cuss words in Spanish. If not- it probably doesn't mean that much to you so it could be said to be rated T.)
The harsh sandy scape around the lone figure wavered in the intense heat. The steady clop of the pretty palomino horse's hooves hitting the ground was all that could be heard. Nothing but a faint breeze rustled the denim jacket of the man sitting in the decorated western saddle.
Miguel stared at the landscape before him.
Sand, sand, y more sand... Desierto de mierda.
The sound of something scrambling behind him reached his ears. Miguel turned and looked behind him. Calixta snorted in that way of her's that spoke lounder than words to say, 'let the little beast try.' Miguel smiled to himself. "Ah, Calixta... Tu está mi amor."
That smug look came to the fierce mare's face. But the noise returned and Miguel saw something scamper away in the corner of his eye. Miguel gave Calixta a slight kick and she responded quickly, picking up the pace to a champion's trot. She was not afraid of these scrawny little things and it was coming off her in waves. Miguel relaxed slightly at the better time they were making. He lost Zorro to the strange little things that seemed to stalk him. Miguel had never had a stalker. He decided quickly that he didn't like the feeling and made a mental note to self to never stalk someone. Even if it was una chica bonita.
Slowly, the wastelands were giving way to something else ahead. Miguel shaded his eyes from the sun and squinted at the object wavering in the far distance. "Una... Ciudad? ... Christo... That had better not be a mirage." He snapped the reins and kicked Calixta. She snorted and broke into a fast canter. Soon enough, a highway came into view and grass started to become a little more prominent. The city ahead was a sprawling mass. He kept Calixta in the soft dirt of the desert-like area since the gravel had the potential to be harmful to any horse's hooves (horseshoe or not) and the asphalt was probably hot and also hard on a horse.
Miguel slowed Calixta back down to a walk and eventually to a stop at the outskirt of the sprawling city. It was dark and rather foreboding... ... Pero, surely this is where the all las personas ricas lived? And in their larder would surely be some expensive drink... Though Miguel was specifically looking for one thing in particular... ... Una botella de rum. De todo alcohol el gusta más rum. Los mejores placeras no cuestan dinero. When he found that prized botella de rum, aged and dark and from a South American country, his life would be complete. Until then- it would be his quest.
The harsh sandy scape around the lone figure wavered in the intense heat. The steady clop of the pretty palomino horse's hooves hitting the ground was all that could be heard. Nothing but a faint breeze rustled the denim jacket of the man sitting in the decorated western saddle.
Miguel stared at the landscape before him.
Sand, sand, y more sand... Desierto de mierda.
The sound of something scrambling behind him reached his ears. Miguel turned and looked behind him. Calixta snorted in that way of her's that spoke lounder than words to say, 'let the little beast try.' Miguel smiled to himself. "Ah, Calixta... Tu está mi amor."
That smug look came to the fierce mare's face. But the noise returned and Miguel saw something scamper away in the corner of his eye. Miguel gave Calixta a slight kick and she responded quickly, picking up the pace to a champion's trot. She was not afraid of these scrawny little things and it was coming off her in waves. Miguel relaxed slightly at the better time they were making. He lost Zorro to the strange little things that seemed to stalk him. Miguel had never had a stalker. He decided quickly that he didn't like the feeling and made a mental note to self to never stalk someone. Even if it was una chica bonita.
Slowly, the wastelands were giving way to something else ahead. Miguel shaded his eyes from the sun and squinted at the object wavering in the far distance. "Una... Ciudad? ... Christo... That had better not be a mirage." He snapped the reins and kicked Calixta. She snorted and broke into a fast canter. Soon enough, a highway came into view and grass started to become a little more prominent. The city ahead was a sprawling mass. He kept Calixta in the soft dirt of the desert-like area since the gravel had the potential to be harmful to any horse's hooves (horseshoe or not) and the asphalt was probably hot and also hard on a horse.
Miguel slowed Calixta back down to a walk and eventually to a stop at the outskirt of the sprawling city. It was dark and rather foreboding... ... Pero, surely this is where the all las personas ricas lived? And in their larder would surely be some expensive drink... Though Miguel was specifically looking for one thing in particular... ... Una botella de rum. De todo alcohol el gusta más rum. Los mejores placeras no cuestan dinero. When he found that prized botella de rum, aged and dark and from a South American country, his life would be complete. Until then- it would be his quest.