#rip rodrigo

[inksplit]

[parjiljehavey]

@ninjacat1515 @requiemofamemory @cheshire0824 @capitanarmandosalazar @piratesangel

The room erupted after Rodrigo spoke. Carlos had stood up and his chair screeched, Lesaro was snarling his facade gone, and Armando slammed a fist on the table, pointing at the human in accusation. Marisol had gone wide-eyed and was staring at the human man in shock. 

“¡Silencio!“ The room quieted after Pilar roared. She took a breath and pointed at Rodrigo. 

“Do you have any idea what you have done?” 

“I had no choice, senora! He-” 

“Non, no, no. You had every choice. You had every reason to cease all business with Chastain from the very beginning. What did he offer you to begin with? A share of the profit?” 

At the guilty silence, Pilar clicked her tongue in disgust. “Your greed has brought your downfall upon you and your family, and I will do nothing to prevent it, Rodrigo.” Pilar stood and bid them goodnight. “Again, Dona, I will give you any assistance that you need to find this Frenchman.” She left the cottage and they heard the coach leave.

Armando frowned and shared a look with Marisol. She nodded and he said something so quiet and fast that the humans’ couldn’t hear him. “Where is the Frenchman?” Lesaro barked out an order.

“I don’t know where he is!” Moss and Santos came into the house and flanked Rodrigo. Moss was grinning and Santos had a gleam in his eye. Carlos walked over to the door and barred it. Lesaro got up and drew the curtains closed. 

“Nonsense,” Marisol said, standing from her seat. “You do business with him, you take a cut of the profit to line your own pockets, and you know that he is working with both pirates and slayers. Now, again, where is he?” 

“Do not lie, amigo.” Carlos chimed in, leaning back against the door with his arms crossed. 

Lesaro spoke up, “And do not remain silent.” 

Moss hissed, “Or do. It’ll make it fun for us.” Santos snickered. 

Rodrigo opened and closed his mouth, eyes wide as he frantically looked around the room for either escape or help. The vampires would give him neither. Silence held for several moments. 

“Cat got your tongue, hombre?” Santos laughed at his captain’s jest, clapping the human on the shoulder. He jumped. Marisol and Armando exchanged another look. She nodded again, lips set in a firm line.

“I take that as a ‘yes’.” At Armando’s nod, Moss set to work while Santos held the human down. 

Later in the night, while Lesaro and Carlos returned to the Maria and Moss and Santos disposed of the body, Armando stood in the small room given to him. He looked out at the hill and the sea that lay before it. The night was dark, and there was no moon. Salinas had talked in the end, but for his deception and his willing dealings with pirates and slayers, they had ended his existence. 

The Frenchman was further north on the coast. He wouldn’t tell how far inland the man was, and so scouting was in order. Armando would take over this part of the investigation, and Marisol would collect further leads on this group of slayers.

“Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.” She said softly. Armando hadn’t even heard her knock or enter. She approached the window and gazed out the dark night and the sea. 

Armando snorted. “Shakespeare?” 

“I’m surprised you know it.” Marisol teased. Armando snorted again, only not out of humor this time. She frowned. And then she sighed. 

“What Salinas said about slayers being involved is bothering you.” It was not a question; she just knew. How she did, Armando did not know. Maybe it was a woman’s intuition or maybe it was simply just how she was. She placed her hand on his shoulder, giving a comforting squeeze that made him simply want to lean against her and seek shelter. 

Now he understood why Carlos wrote so furiously whenever the Maria was at sea; why he would send a bundle of six to ten letters meant solely for his hermana. His sister was an anchor, a safe harbor. Marisol was the calm eye of a storm; She understood and gave the safety net of support. 

Now she offered Armando that safety. Her hand squeezed his shoulder again and he felt her begin to step away. 

“Quédate conmigo.” 

Marisol stopped and turned towards him. She placed her hand on his shoulder again. Armando covered hers’ with one of his own. 

“Por favor, quédate.” 

El Matador Del Mar was a proud man. But, he was still a man. Marisol understood that; her first husband, Antonio her greatest friend, had married her simply because he had wanted companionship in his final years. The wars and time he had spent in the New World had taken its toll on him when he was young and had made life difficult as he approached the end.  

And with this threat of slayers working with the French man.. Marisol resolved herself to do what she could as she could as she was needed, as she was now. 

“Si,”