Post by Octavio Moreno [Velasquez] on Aug 13, 2012 4:51:24 GMT -5
It was a mid-August evening in Drakborough, and the humidity and heat in the town was increased by both the fires on torches in the square and around the town and the passion of the night. Teenage students snuck around corners together hand in hand, hoping they wouldn't be noticed, and adult wizards and witches laughed and clapped and told stories and jokes to one another outside of the local bars.
The night was young, and there was fun in the streets and in the buildings. It was hot, it was exciting, and most of all it was safe. The last time Drakborough had truly been in any danger was before James Mustang had been elected to office. Oh there was lots of trouble in the Triangle Tunnel, but the Drakborough people were quick to accept the refugees and try to welcome them into and expand their little town into the new core of magical Spain. Politicians and enemies would love to point out the errors in electing James Mustang, and the hidden troubles beneath the surface, but the fact of the matter was that the teenage students could wander around the corners for their elicit romances without fearing they would be attacked by a dark wizard.
The teenage students came to a place where they were certain nobody would find them, and they flashed grins at one another. The male, who must have been around sixteen or seventeen, whispered something into the female's, who was only a year or so younger, ear. She giggled, and he began to kiss at her neck - at first softly, but then progressively more forcefully. The witch grabbed the wizard's head in her hands and kissed her lips against his, and just as the wizard began to paw at the witch's robes, a snap erupted through the alleyway.
The teenagers turned, mortified, to see a Spanish man oozing with nobility standing at the end of the alley in royal crimson robes and clutching a golden goblet in his hand. The two stared at him for a few seconds, before he raised an eyebrow and said, "¿Si? ¿Que estas mirando? ¡Vayase!" The young couple could no even react, as they had no idea what it was this Spanish man had just said.
"¿Que estas...ah," an understanding seemed to dawn on the man, and his eyes squinted just a little in what seemed to be frustrated. "Estudiantes de la Universidad de...¿Firefox, si?" Still, the couple had no idea what he was saying, so, with a deep frown, he said, "Students. From Firefox. Yes?" The students nodded. "Go away." He repeated, this time in English, and the two students ran.
The man dropped the goblet in the street. Octavio Moreno Velasquez had traveled a long way from Italy, and it had been far too long a travel to apparate. He had taken a portkey, and he was expecting his two companions to arrive next to him at any minute. In the meantime, he examined his surroundings - the walls of the Drakborough houses, the stars in the sky, the smell of food cooking and the sound of laughter and fun.
Stolen laughter and fun. If things were different, he never would have set foot in this town. Just standing on its soil and taking in its atmosphere was sickening to him, as if it was poisoning his very soul. But he knew he had to come here first, and avoid any communication with Las Familias for now, in order for this place to finally receive its inevitable reckoning.
Octavio Moreno Velasquez awaited his companions. Then he would gather the crowd.
The night was young, and there was fun in the streets and in the buildings. It was hot, it was exciting, and most of all it was safe. The last time Drakborough had truly been in any danger was before James Mustang had been elected to office. Oh there was lots of trouble in the Triangle Tunnel, but the Drakborough people were quick to accept the refugees and try to welcome them into and expand their little town into the new core of magical Spain. Politicians and enemies would love to point out the errors in electing James Mustang, and the hidden troubles beneath the surface, but the fact of the matter was that the teenage students could wander around the corners for their elicit romances without fearing they would be attacked by a dark wizard.
The teenage students came to a place where they were certain nobody would find them, and they flashed grins at one another. The male, who must have been around sixteen or seventeen, whispered something into the female's, who was only a year or so younger, ear. She giggled, and he began to kiss at her neck - at first softly, but then progressively more forcefully. The witch grabbed the wizard's head in her hands and kissed her lips against his, and just as the wizard began to paw at the witch's robes, a snap erupted through the alleyway.
The teenagers turned, mortified, to see a Spanish man oozing with nobility standing at the end of the alley in royal crimson robes and clutching a golden goblet in his hand. The two stared at him for a few seconds, before he raised an eyebrow and said, "¿Si? ¿Que estas mirando? ¡Vayase!" The young couple could no even react, as they had no idea what it was this Spanish man had just said.
"¿Que estas...ah," an understanding seemed to dawn on the man, and his eyes squinted just a little in what seemed to be frustrated. "Estudiantes de la Universidad de...¿Firefox, si?" Still, the couple had no idea what he was saying, so, with a deep frown, he said, "Students. From Firefox. Yes?" The students nodded. "Go away." He repeated, this time in English, and the two students ran.
The man dropped the goblet in the street. Octavio Moreno Velasquez had traveled a long way from Italy, and it had been far too long a travel to apparate. He had taken a portkey, and he was expecting his two companions to arrive next to him at any minute. In the meantime, he examined his surroundings - the walls of the Drakborough houses, the stars in the sky, the smell of food cooking and the sound of laughter and fun.
Stolen laughter and fun. If things were different, he never would have set foot in this town. Just standing on its soil and taking in its atmosphere was sickening to him, as if it was poisoning his very soul. But he knew he had to come here first, and avoid any communication with Las Familias for now, in order for this place to finally receive its inevitable reckoning.
Octavio Moreno Velasquez awaited his companions. Then he would gather the crowd.