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Post by tomatepirata on Oct 30, 2011 17:00:49 GMT -8
Antonio sighed, staring out at the ocean. He didn’t know why he always returned to the beach he’d washed up on, but he did. He always did. At least once a week he was back here, staring out and itching to find whatever it was he’d lost to the water. Which was ridiculous because he wouldn’t be able to fish anything out after a month of currents and storms moving everything on the bottom around. Not to mention how deep he would probably have to swim.
There was no way he was getting anything but exercise and maybe an ear infection from the ocean. It was foolish of him to come here so often and torture himself with thoughts of what could possibly be bothering him. Shaking his head, he turned and headed back to town. Maybe a good drink would help? He hadn’t tried drinking the urge to swim out into the ocean away yet. He’d been afraid that he would actually try it if he got drunk.
It was keeping him awake at night though and he was feeling the toll that nights of no sleep took on his body. He was getting more and more tired, the chores he did becoming more and more sloppy. He had to do something, even if it was leaving. With his luck he’d fall asleep tilling the garden and seriously hurt himself. Halfway to the bar he felt his arm being grabbed and turned to look at who had done it. Green eyes widened, then narrowed in confusion. “Do I…know you?”
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Post by Königreich Preußen on Oct 30, 2011 19:39:40 GMT -8
Gilbert raised a pale hand to shield his eyes from the bright, Indian colored sun. Vivid hues, the smell of salt coming off the ocean front and warm weather were all things that the albino distinctly associated with being in Spain, and most others welcomed -- even looked forward to -- spending time in the sun-drenched and energetic country.
Gilbert, however, was not one of those people.
The sunlight made his eyes hurt; his skin was easily burned; the heat made him feel like he was melting; his shirt stuck to his skin uncomfortably; and all in all, he just could not get used to the fact that they ate tomatoes at every meal. If the Imperial Eagle hadn't needed a fresh coat of paint, Gilbert would have passed Spain by without a moment's hesitation.
Wiping the raised hand across his forehead, Gilbert readjusted the brim of his newest feathered hat, the large white plumes looking less than flashy here, as Gilbird peeped her own opinions about the location quite piercingly, from it.
"I know, Gilly." He grumbled, rather perturbed that she wouldn't quiet, no matter what he said or did. "But it's not as though I want to be here, either." He continued to walk down the crowded little street, weaving in and out of carts and passersby, as the smell of brazed pork filtered through his nostrils. It was then that he noticed a rather familiar looking face turn and trudge ahead of him.
Furrowing his eyebrows, Gilbert quickened his pace to catch up. Reaching out and clasping onto the suspect's shoulder, he waited for him to turn. Almost instantly, as if a day hadn't passed of their departure, Gilbert recognized the large emerald eyes, expressive face and finely shaped lips that he had befriended not two years before. Antonio Fernandez Carriedo.
However, something was off. His usually friendly eyes looked at Gilbert as though he hadn't the faintest idea who he was, and his response to the sudden halt only confirmed it.
"Do you know me?"Gilbert repeated, his own lips puckering unhappily, as Gilbird let out a soft chirp of recognition. "Toni-boy! It's me, Gilbert! Don't tell me that you're drunk this early in the afternoon?" He let out a small chuckle.
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Post by tomatepirata on Dec 13, 2011 22:42:35 GMT -8
“Lo siento amigo, but I haven’t been drinking. I don’t know how you know my name, but I don’t remember ever having met you in my life.” Antonio gave a helpless little shrug, hands open and spread before him in a ‘What can you do?’ kind of way. Green eyes looked over the man before him critically, noting the white, almost silver hair and the startling red eyes. His clothing suggested he was a pirate, one high on the food chain, though Antonio wasn’t sure how, exactly, he knew that.
A chirping sound drew his eyes to the large white feather in his hat, then down to the small yellow bird. It was looking at him and chirping, something that made him smile. It was almost like the creature recognized him the same as the man did. He finally focused back on the man’s face. Hadn’t he said his name? What was it again…? “I’m pretty sure I would remember a man as striking as you…Gilbert.” That was it, or at least he hoped it was. Antonio prided himself on being something of a people person and getting the name wrong was never a good way to make friends.
Not wanting to see the man look upset, the very idea not settling well with him for some reason, Antonio smiled brightly at him. “But maybe I knew you from before? I don’t really remember much of anything right now.” He laughed like it didn’t bother him, green eyes drawing to the bird again. It seemed familiar to him, this whole scene, but the memory was just outside his grasp.
It was frustrating in a way he wasn’t prepared for. There weren’t that many things around him that made him feel like he should know about them. Sometimes he knew something about tomatoes and how best to look after them, without having to ask about it, but otherwise nothing was really familiar in the way this man was.
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