Tomatoes and Tears[Italy Intro] (The Lucky Dragon)

[Feliciano Vargas]

Feliciano lay on the damp boards of the boardwalk looking up at the setting sun. It had been three days since the people who he had once called his crewmates had sailed off without him and he would give anything he had to get back on the boat. When he was on the boat he had a family, a family that pushed him around and yelled at him all the time, but it was a family. He wiped a tear from his eye, how could they just leave him in this strange port? Sure he wasn’t the best pirate out there, but he really was trying his best! He sat up and looked to the ocean. Maybe the ship would come back for him, maybe they had just forgotten him and not abandoned him, maybe if he could just live here for a little bit they would come back for him and would let him back on the boat and they would all be friends! Feliciano bounced up onto his feet, yes, that had to be the reason! He knew it was true, they wouldn’t just abandon him here!

His stomach groaned. Feliciano was hungry and if he wanted to last long enough to get back on the boat he had to last for a few days on his own without his crewmates. He trotted down to the street and looked for someone who might be nice enough to feed him. A kind old woman, maybe a pretty girl or a little kid were usually nice enough to share their food. People with children had families to feed rather than him, and not a lot of guys were willing to donate a morsel. He scanned the street. This close to the boardwalk most of the people he saw were the men who worked the boats, not exactly the kind of people that it was good to beg from.

Feliciano sighed in defeat, “I’m never getting food am I? I’m so hungry! Isn’t there anyone here who wouldn’t mind giving this poor pizza and pasta lover something to eat?” Talking did make him feel a little bit better; he hadn’t talked to anyone for days.

He heard a clunk as someone dropped a heavy wooden box onto the ground and went back for more. There was a little hole in the crate where he could just see a shimmer of red. “Hm…” Feliciano walked over to the crate and kneeled down next to it. He put his finger into the hole and came in contact with something very smooth. He ran his finger back and forth on the object before pushing it into the thing. He felt a bit of resistance before his finger reached some sort of pocket filled with some sort of liquid. He pulled his finger out. It was still slightly red from being in the object and appeared to have one single seed still on it. He stuck his finger in his mouth, “Tomato!” His stomach groaned again, aching for the treasures of the worn wooden box. He looked around, no one was watching him. Feliciano thrust his fingers back into the hole and started to pull at the sides of the damp box, the box creaked but it refused to give. “Open, please open, please! I’m so hungry box could you please open for me?” He shook the box a bit, nothing happened.

Feliciano stood up to leave when he kicked something in his way, a crowbar. He beamed as he lifted the metal object above his head. A crowbar! He jumped up and down and gave a bit of a yell before running back to the crate and sticking the crowbar into the hole. He pushed against the crowbar with all of his might and finally he had broken a large hole in the side of the box. Tomatoes spilled out from the side of the crate. “YAY!” Feliciano yelled with happiness and danced about in a circle. He began scooping up tomatoes into his arms humming a little tune under his breath no longer looking out for danger. He heard someone yell something; the man who had put the crate down was running right at him. Feliciano squealed in fear and took off running, his tomatoes tucked into a basket he had made with his shirt. He ran through the streets the man in hot pursuit. He turned down an alleyway and hoped there was someplace he could hide. Surrendering was always an option, but with 14 tomatoes tucked away in his shirt he didn’t want to have to give them all back. Plus he had eaten a lot of tomatoes back with the crate and he didn’t think the man would be very happy to know he couldn’t get back all of his tomatoes. Feliciano sped up and turned another corner. Six wooden barrels stood in a group. Feliciano opened up the nearest one with one hand, his other cradled the tomatoes still sitting in one of his shirts. He carefully, to not injure the tomatoes, climbed into the barrel. The last thing to go into the barrel was his hand still holding the lid and laying the lid down as he pulled it in. The barrel was still damp from its previous use and smelled like rum. Feliciano’s heart beat so loudly he was sure the man could hear it, and he barely dared to breathe in fear that the man would notice him. Feliciano gripped his clothes in his hands as he waited for what was to come.

[Im Yong Soo~!]

The sun shone with bright harshness, filling the air with heat and scent. A bead of sweat trickled down the back of Yong Soo’s neck, and he fanned himself with a broad sleeve, smiling as another satisfied merchant tallies out his compensation.

“You’re definitely good at your work,” the dark-dressed Mediterranean stated, scratching his pen across the ledger with an idle flick. “Most have been having trouble sailing about the Cape this past season, what with all that unfortunate pirate business.”

“What can I say, da ze,” Yong Soo chanted lightly, spirits bright as he accepted both praise and pay, tucking the pouch into his sleeve, “luck originated in Korea, and I didn’t leave it behind.”

A few minutes later the Asian Captain danced back out into the thoroughfare, whistling to his curl. Compared to when he first started a few years ago, the Lucky Dragon’s escort ventures were finally picking up, leading to more and more business opportunities and ushering fresh revenue. The name “Yong Soo” was finally beginning to circulate, even if it was still in a drowsy swirl. Perhaps if his luck holds out, the right ears would soon hear him.

Yong Soo’s hopeful musings were interrupted as a short brunet man suddenly dashed from the alley in front of him, clutching a shirtful of tomatoes and panting to a stuttered stop. His head whipped back and forth, missing sight of Yong Soo’s baffled face entirely. Expression harried, the man scuttled for the nearby barrels, hastily opening one and diving in.

Yong Soo blinked rapidly at this strange series of events before another man charged forth from the alley, face red from yelling and exertion. “Damn!” he cursed, having lost sight of the tomato thief. He noticed the Korean standing in the street and made his way forward, expression thunderous. “Oi, you see anybody run through here?”

Surprised by the sudden aggression, Yong Soo held up his sleeves, shaking his head to ward off hostility and instinctively lying: “Nope I saw nothing nothing at all da ze!”

The man scowled, muttering a slur beneath his breath as he turned down the street, and before Yong Soo can try to recant the fib the workman’s gone. Biting his lip, Yong Soo waited a good minute or so after the sailor’s left. He hesitantly slid his way toward the barrels, blinking at the one the brunet disappeared into, and gently tapped the lid with his knuckles. “Annyeong,” he greeted, keeping his voice low, “I think you’re safe, but you should probably get moving. He didn’t look happy.”

The Korean felt just a bit guilty for helping a thief, but he figured that it was too late to call the angry man back now.

((Sorry this took way too long! ;A; ))

[Feliciano Vargas]

Feliciano popped his head out of the barrel easily moving the loose lid out of the way. “Ve~ Grazie you saved me!” His savior looked nice enough; he wasn’t really mean looking like the man who was chasing him. He leaned forward attempting to embrace his savior in some sort of awkward hug, but was trapped by the barrel and the fact that his arms were occupied with 14 juicy red tomatoes, all he managed to do is give the other a light head bump.

Feliciano gazed around the alleyway hoping that the man wouldn’t come back soon. Carefully removing a single arm from around his shirt he attempted to exit the barrel. His knee banged against the barrel’s rim. “Ow! That hurt! That hurt really bad!” It was definitely easier getting into the barrel then getting out. He tried again, but with his other leg this time with the same results. He even attempted to jump out of the barrel but all the succeeded in doing was causing him to almost drop his tomatoes. He wiggled around trying to find some direction where he could escape his confinement without hurting his tomatoes.

He wiggled a bit too far to his left, the barrel lost its balance, and for one sickening second the Italian could see nothing but blue of the sky as he plummeted towards the hard earth. He landed on the ground with a thud. Pain coursed through his body. Feliciano gripped his head, his tomatoes forgotten and rolled back and forth across the ground giving a small shriek of pain. His tomatoes lay around him splattered on the ground, each one a small ruined mess of its own.

((It's fine don't worry about it!))

[Im Yong Soo~!]

Yong Soo bounced back as the Italian emerged, a surprised grin flickering across his face as he airily fluttered his sleeves. Wow, what a friendly looking face! “It was no troub-oof!” the Korean cut off as the other’s head bopped against him. It was a light hit, but that didn’t change the fact that the Mediterranean’s head was surprisingly heavy!

Yong Soo edged back further, rubbing his sternum slightly as he watched the Italian try to wriggle his way out of the barrel. He couldn’t help smiling a bit at how silly looking the other’s attempts were, even as he winced sympathetically at the tanned boy’s pained noises. ‘Wow, talk about helpless,’[/i] he thought frankly, ‘he’s gonna get himself hurt at this rate.’

“Do you want any help, da ze?” Yong Soo asked, chuckling a little and opening his arms to help steady the barrel. The offer came a bit too late, however, as the barrel teetered and lurched over to the right, connecting to the ground with a heavy “CRACK!” Yong Soo jumped back in alarm, before hastily bustling to crouch at the other’s side. “Aigo, that looked like it hurt!” he cried out, trying to hold the man steady so he didn’t roll into anything. “You okay?”

After insuring that the brunet’s skull was still intact and helping him sit up, the Korean spared a look at the bruised tomatoes. Most of them were busted, and Yong Soo cringed again in sympathy. “Bad luck, da ze,” he murmured quietly, patting the Mediterranean in consolation. “Was that your lunch?”

Given the fact that the Italian had to steal them, the Korean couldn’t help but wonder if it was more than that.

[Feliciano Vargas]

Feliciano stared at the tomatoes that lay about him in shock and disbelief. This couldn’t be possible, he had tried so hard, worked so hard for this. More than he ever had in his entire life and in one small moment his tomatoes were taken from him. He could feel tears pricking at the sides of his eyes as he searched for one that could have survived the fall.

“Si… that was…” He lifted up what was left of one of the tomatoes watching the mess ooze through his fingers. A sob escaped his mouth as salty tears fell dampening the Korean’s sleeve. His empty stomach gave a rumble reminding him of the hunger he could never get rid of without the tomatoes that now littered the ground could somehow fix themselves.

Feliciano rubbed his eyes, trying to get the tears away, the Korean man had already saved him once and he seemed nice. Feliciano clasped his hands together in front of him, “I’m so sorry but I’m really, really hungry! Can I have some food, please! I’ll do anything, anything, I’m just so hungry and you look really nice so you wouldn’t mind buying me food would you? It would make me really happy ve~! And I wouldn’t bother you anymore if that’s what you want! I mean I don’t have any money or anything, but I could pay you back later sometime really I could, promise!”

((SORRY IT TAKES ME SO LONG! I suck...))

[Im Yong Soo~!]

Yong Soo bit his lip at the heartbroken sound of the brunet’s voice, shaking his head side to side again as he regarded the mess as well. ‘Poor guy,’ he thought, remembering a few nights in the distant past the Korean himself had gone hungry. It was understandable that desperation turned the man into a thief.

Feeling the weight in his sleeve again, Yong Soo remembered that he was actually in a position to help the man. He was just about to offer to buy the guy a meal when the Mediterranean suddenly became a babbling mess of begging, brown eyes imploring and clasped hands flailing.

The Asian blinked, distancing himself slightly from the slightly uncomfortable display, and waved his own sleeves back and forth. “Ai, nulida!” he exclaimed, mouth smiling in an attempt to calm the other down. “It’s alright, da ze, I was going to offer. Now, uh, please get up?”

He offered his sleeve to the tanned man, letting his smile grow. “My name is Yong Soo. Do you know where we could buy something good? Maybe to eat while walking—I need to get back aboard my ship.”

((Honey you got nothing to worry about, promise. -patpat-))

Nulida: Slow down

[Feliciano Vargas]

Feliciano brightened immediately at the prospect of food, “PAAAASTAAAA!” A wide smile lit the Italian’s face; he hadn’t had pasta for so long. He missed his favorite food dearly, he wished he could eat pasta every day, he would be so happy if he could.

“We should have pasta!” Feliciano grabbed the Korean’s hands moving them back and forth and up and down excitedly as he talked, “We should have bucatini, or linguini, or fettuccini, or farfalle, or tortellini, or ravioli, or penne, or ziti, or spaghetti, or rigatoni, or orecchiette, or cavatelli, or, or…” He thought for a bit, “Ve~, we should have all the pasta in the world at once! Do you like pasta?” He didn’t even wait for an answer. “Si! Si! I bet you love pasta! Everyone loves pasta! I love pasta with tomato sauce, and I love it with alfredo sauce, and, and, I just love pasta….”

Feliciano stared off into the distance a dreamy look on his face as thoughts of pasta filled his head. He could see himself eating pasta surrounded by friends and family, and everyone was so happy. Everyone would be sitting around a big dinner table, and he would bring out the pasta he had made. They would laugh because he always served pasta, and some would even groan a bit, but they would all smile because they all loved him anyway. Then they would sit down and laugh and talk and eat and be happy. The pasta would taste so good, because pasta always tasted better with friends. Feliciano never knew how he knew pasta tasted better with friends; it was just something that he knew as if he had done it before many times. “Ve~” It was a silly dream but it was one he had had since he was young.

[Im Yong Soo~!]

The Korean jolted slightly at the other’s exclamation, raising his eyebrows. Pasta, huh? That was what westerners called noodles. Yong Soo's smile broadened a bit--he loved noodles.

“Alright, da z-E!” Yong Soo stumbled as the pasta-loving Italian dragged him along, babbling pasta names in rapid succession. The Asian opened and closed his mouth at several points, trying to get a word in edgewise, but the Mediterranean plowed on with gusto. The contrast between the Italian’s current joy and his earlier despair was almost jarring.

Yong Soo idly wondered if this was how other people felt around him.

Once the Italian managed to settle down slightly, leading the pair along, Yong Soo smiled again and tried to make conversation. “I feel the same way about kimchi! Kimchi is the best food, da ze, it originated in Korea,” he nodded sagely, grinning.

“Then again I love food in general, especially when it’s free.”