buenas, chicas

javier d'marco. 24. petty thief. human. corrupted soul points: --- pure of heart points: ---

[javierdmarco]

He missed the sea. Of course, Washington wasn't far from an ocean, but Javier had little interest in the cold rocky bluffs around Bindlebrim, but he'd thought he might. but Standing in the midst of Deception Pass had not brought about a feeling of belonging and the roaring waves only echoed the hungry calls in his brain that demanded he return home. He took a drag of his fourth cigarette of the day, which was far more than the usual one or two. He didn't particularly enjoy smoking, but it had its uses.  Javier was restless for home and Bindlebrim was just an eerie, unfulfilling, and horrible awry version of what he wanted. Javier lived for warm, dry, salty air with the sun beating his skin darker with every passing hour. He was used to wearing a shirt on his head to keep the sun from scalding his face when the open air grew to be too much. Here, there was a tree every other step to take shade under and the air was always dank and cold. 

The smoke burned his throat as he exhaled, the light grey mixing into the dull horizon before he could even watch it go. Smoke should never be the same color of the sky. With a curse, Javier stomped the remainder of his cigarette into the wet sand, hardly caring if it counted as littler. Arrest him then. Deport him. Maybe then his father would send him to a decent country. Surely America wasn't the most exciting one out there and he doubted that it was easier to get into America than it was another place. America was just the only place his father wouldn't seem suspicious sending him off to. Sometimes he wondered how he'd even gotten away with kicking him out so quickly. Hopefully Alejandro didn't hate him. Hopefully Maria was still waiting for him to come back. Javier had really tried not to think about her, but it was hard to forget about his goddamn girlfriend every once in awhile. Or maybe she wasn't his girlfriend anymore--Francisco had always hung around her when Javier wasn't there. Maybe, though, she'd suspected something was wrong. Maybe his not saying goodbye was convincing her to do something. She had to be waiting for him to com back, right?

No, he thought. She wasn't.

[isadora-eason-deactivated201407]

A smile spread wide across her honeysuckle pink lips as she heard the fluent Spanish flow freely off his tongue, rolling like the familiar waves she remembered running through on the shore of the beach near her home as a little girl. Then again, this was was over seventy-years ago—Isadora didn’t even know if the beach still existed. It was also nice to see that she wasn’t the only one completely lost in this town, foreign and new. “A flyer is a piece of paper with an advertisement on it,” she explained, slowly handing him the groceries that were too much for her arms. “Una forma más fácil de obtener información a la gente.” She smiled at Javier, a small tingle of warmth and familiarity blooming in her chest as she looked upon the fellow. A part of her wolf reached out for him, craving to touch him and continue speaking to him. A craving to go back to Spain and remain the way life had been before. “Isadora,” she introduced, bowing her head ever so slightly as a mischievous smile played on her lips. “Es un placer. Confía en mí.” The smile transformed into a smirk and she stepped closer to him, thankful for his help. “And thank you for showing me where I want to go. There’s this marathon of old films playing at the theatre that I would love to see.” She turned her head up to his, smiling with delight twinkling in her eyes. “I haven’t been here long. I little less than a month, I believe. But I like it here. It’s nothing compared to Spain, but it’s home. For now, anyway. What brings you here?” 

[javierdmarco]

"Ah," Javier said, nodding in understanding. Flyer. Another English word with multiple meanings. It had so many words, yet was surprisingly lacking  in the nouns department.  He'd been thinking it had something to do with planes even though he knew that was ridiculous. A folleto, that was what a flyer was. He had to remember that. "Fl-aye-err," he tried, laughing at how pitiful it sounded.  He had a horrible excuse for an American accent, even when he was trying. he caught her look and raised an eyebrow, glancing down at the now-nonexsistant space between them. Oh…that was interesting. But he liked it and it wasn't entirely unexpected. He had just helped her up and was leading the way to where she needed to go. "And you were going by yourself?" He shook his head in mocking disapproval. "Dios mio. Tu tienes un novio horrible!" Then she asked the logical next question: why he was here, why he'd picked this town of all places. "Mm, mi padre--" He always referred to him more formally now,"--decided that it would be good for me to….esperience. Live." It was sort of true. Technically. "So…here I am." They stopped at a crosswalk to let a few cars pass and Javier took the opportunity to get a little bit closer to her. "What part of España are you from? Usted no es de A Coruña, te puedo decir."

[nastyaulan]

[wogoes]

[wanyecarter]

Maybe you just haven’t had the right ones.

You’ll have to talk to my boss, but paperwork isn’t an issue. At least it wasn’t when I applied for the job.

[javierdmarco]

Maybe. 

You know, I think I should have a tour before any decisions.

[isadora-eason-deactivated201407]

The ground was cold and slick, water seeping through her clothing and yet the blonde was still too embarrassed to get back on her feet. Why was she always running into people? It was starting to become a problem. She watched the bright yellow flyer disappear from view, her eyebrows furrowed in irritation. Now she was going to be more than a half hour late. The sound of fluent Spanish, however, caused Isadora’s interested to pique and when she turned her head to fully look at the person she had bumped into, her eyes descended upon a boy who reminded her very much of all the Spanish boys she and her best friend would stare at on the beaches. Well, not exactly her best friend—but a friend. She was so caught off guard that she didn’t even know what to say, both English and Spanish seeming foreign to her. “Uh—I—gracias.” It was the only word she could currently think of, too distracted and too embarrassed. Taking his hand gently, Isadora allowed herself to be pulled to her feet by the fellow Spaniard, her smile returning to her face. “If you’d be willing. I wouldn’t want to trouble you.” She glanced down at the ground where groceries lay, scattered. “Oh—dios mio!” she exclaimed, crouching down to gather them in her arms. “Lo siento mucho. Soy tan torpe y—” She stood back up, groceries in her arms. “I’m sorry.” Sure you are. Now you sound like an idiot. “I was trying to get to the theatre because they’re having this movie marathon and the directions were on that flyer, but now the flyer is gone, and I’m lost—‘cause I’m new—and I seem to have a habit of running into people on the street and disrupting them and now no puedo dejar de hablar. Wow, esto es aun mas vergonzoso.”

[javierdmarco]

"Yo nunca pude rechazar una bella dama," Javier said with a little dip of his head, smirk still painted on his lips. She was from Spain too and Javier was really starting to wonder if he'd accidentally landed himself in a Spanish hotspot. Not that he would mind at all. the ability to use his native language was always somewhat of a relief--using English all the time was starting to fry his brain. Javier had been told he was a quick learner, but English seemed to come along painfully slow. Even when he thought he got it right, people gave him polite smiles and nods that said he'd messed up. "Hey, hey," he started, trying to stop the girl from collecting the spilled groceries. But she was talking  a mile a minute and grabbing up everything, making him look awkward for trying to help, so he just gripped the remaining bags that hadn't spilled and waited for her to finish. Once she was standing with all of his stuff, looking rather cute with her hair in her face, Javier cocked an eyebrow.  "Vergonzoso? No, it was very nice." He extended a hand and took he groceries, not about to make her carry his stuff. "Eres nueva también? I've been here almost two months. In America. Here, a few weeks." He shrugged, looking up at the sky for a second and puckering his lips. Then his gaze turned back to her. "My name is Javier,  Soy de A Coruña, España y yo sé dónde está teatro es." She was talking to fast for him to catch why she wante dto go there, but he was assuming to watch a movie. With a little jerk of his shoulder to point the way, he started back toward the theatre. After a beat of silence, he turned his head. "What is 'flyer'? I assuming it doesn't have to do with los aviones."

[wanyecarter]

No shaking your ass on stage? It can be fun.

Are they now? You’ll have to show me sometime, cause I’m afraid I’m only acquainted with American drinks. Except for rum.

[javierdmarco]

American drinks are shit. Why you pay for it, I don't know. 

I assume people here care about women, less about drinks. I can manage.

Ah, assuming no paperwork. 

[wanyecarter]

Don’t be put off, I look at everybody like that. You want to work here? As a dancer? Or a bartender?

Hah, yeah, I hear English is a fucked up language to learn. But you sound alright to me.

[javierdmarco]

Merida--no. No dancing.

I know drinks. Warning, I know espensive drinks, and I know European drinks. Better than American.  

[wanyecarter]

Good luck not getting caught, brother.

Why’s that?

[javierdmarco]

You look at me like a wolf. That's why.

And my English es horrible. I study for five years and nobody speaks like my books say you will. 

[lisovskyte]

[wanyecarter]

Just curious as to how that shit works, man.

Huh. I’m sure there are places that’ll hire you. Just gotta know where to look.

[javierdmarco]

Eh, I have my ways to get by. Those? Not legal.

I would work here, just for the perks. But something tell me this not where to look. 

[wanyecarter]

Can’t you get deported? Student visa, not enrolled in school.

[javierdmarco]

What, are you going deport me?

I think America has more important things to worry about than me. I was en-rolhed somewhere, per--but my father doesn't tell me where. For now, I'm legal. 

[wanyecarter]

That’s a pity. No job?

[javierdmarco]

Eh, not the right visa. 

I'm, ah…a student. Er, supposed to be. Didn't happen that way, so…no job.

[isadora-eason-deactivated201407]

The weather seemed to have been warming up as the days passed, not that the young blonde noticed given her slightly overheated body temperature, but it was a nice contrast nonetheless. With her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail and donning nothing but a simple pair of sweats, a purple sweater, and a pair of boots, Isadora quickly walked down the streets of Bindlebrim Hallows with a smile on her face. Why was she smiling though? Because. The only thing that had made her smile within the week was only ten minutes away—a marathon of black-and-white movies at the Paramount Theatre. Apparently it didn’t happen often, at least that’s what the flyer gripped tightly in her hand said, and Isadora wasn’t going to miss this chance. After her shift at the Sunny Daze, she quickly ran home to change—and by quickly, she meant superhuman quickly—and then ran back out to hit the theatre. It started at midnight, so she was already a bit late, but missing the first half hour of a movie wasn’t going to be that bad. However, in all her excitement she hadn’t noticed the person she was about to run into right as she turned the corner. The werewolf hit the body hard, stumbling back and falling down on her butt as soon as it happened. “Oh no! Esas fueron mis direcciones! Mierda,” she exclaimed as she watched the flyer she had dropped blow away in the wind. “Now how will I get to the theatre?” she mumbled to herself  pouting so slightly. Then, looking up at the person she ran into, blushed profusely. “I’m so sorry about that!”

[javierdmarco]

Hanging around movie theaters had proven to be a very successful area for Javier. People liked to stand around outside and mill around, making them perfect targets to steal from. He'd learned from a few acquaintances in The Cell Block about how to properly steal credit cars and it had proven successful so far. He would steal a wallet, take the card, and immediately go to the store to buy something simple; today happened to be groceries. Then he would return the wallet to the movie theatre and say he'd found it outside. No one suspected anything. 

He was heading back home when he turned the corner and ran smack into a person. Much harder than usual--indicating that both parties hadn't been aware. Javier stumbled back and dropped a bag full of pretzels, cereal, and a six pack of terrible beer that he mostly just used to make sure his neighbors wouldn't try to kill him during the night or something.

Javier took a few stunned second to scan the woman he'd run into to find she was a pretty girl. "No, no. No es un problema, era mi culpa." She mentioned the theater and he flashed a sly grin. "Teatro? Es a..back there. Not very busy either."

He offered a hand. "I can show you, so lo desea."

[wanyecarter]

Has someone come to give little ole’ me some company?

[javierdmarco]

Nah.

If I had the money, I'd be inside.

[now-i-will-do-more-than-dream]

[river-castillo]

River glanced at the man, completely studying him. She tried to deduce as much as she could from the last three minutes that she’s spoken to him. He was definitely from Spain with a thicker accent than she had. He was probably doing illegal things or watching people carefully judging by the way he’s checking his surroundings. He probably thought she was insane, as most sane people did. She listened to him speak in her native tongue. It certainly made it easier to understand him. He didn’t know English nearly as well as River did. It took some time for him to come up with the words. English was a strange language, especially with their odd sayings that even River didn’t understand. “Es verdad. Esta lugar es muy extraño y las personas son más extrañas.”

River wondered why he was even there if he didn’t like this place. Obviously he was skeptical of the people here in both Bindlebrim and America. She figured it was because some outside force was keeping him here. If he was stuck in Bindlebrim or America overall was a different story. “Yo soy de Seville. ¿Y tú?” River didn’t prefer to talk about herself, but telling him where she was from wasn’t too much of a hassle. She gulped down her drink and motioned to the bartender to order another one. “¿Qué haces aquí? No creo que es para unas vacaciones.”

[javierdmarco]

Javie gave a little snort. "Tenía la esperanza de que era sólo yo," he muttered, taking another sip of his drink. Well, until he realized it was empty. He pushed the glass out and asked the bartender for a Coke, which was about the only thing he was going to be able to afford. He relaxed a little bit simply because they were using Spanish, not to mention the fact that she was from Spain so he could actually understand her accent. 

"Eres una Sevillana, eh? Ay, eso no es bueno," he teased. "Yo soy de A Coruña."

He thanked the bartender for his Coke and took a sip, smacking his lips at the overly sugary, overly fizzy taste. "No visa," he explained. Then he rolled his eyes. "I mean, no visa for work." His father at least kept him legal, though he wasn't sure how long that would really last. Probably only a few more years, then everyone would think he'd graduated college and stayed in America and abandoned his family. Or maybe his father had let it all slip. 

"Bindlebrim parece que mi mejor opicón."