trash 8047
(?)Community Member
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- Posted: Thu, 01 Mar 2012 04:15:50 +0000
" ¿Me quieres Tu lo sabes
¿Me necesitas Tu lo sabes
¿Me favor Tu lo sabes
¿Va a burlarse de mí Tu lo sabes "
¿Me necesitas Tu lo sabes
¿Me favor Tu lo sabes
¿Va a burlarse de mí Tu lo sabes "
All Diego wanted was this humiliation to end. Captain Bec was doing one hell of a job proving his dominance over a common slave. He felt the knife slide out of his back with ease, leaving a gaping hole. The wound would be simple enough to heal... if it was closer to a full moon. Merely, the bleeding stopped dripping from the fleshy fissure. He thought that this moment has come to a close, but Bec continued to spectacle, asking him for a please. Diego clenched his teeth. There was no way in hell he would say something like that from a man that happened to stab him seconds ago. But, there was the issue: this man had STABBED him just seconds ago. Closing his eyes, Diego was too ashamed to look.
"P-P-Por f-f-f-favor..." the words tasted like bitter vile.
Captain Bec ended up using his shirt as a towel, wiping his own blood off the blade. Diego was free to press his head against the cold deck. Relief seemed to spread with his cheek pressed against the wood. He could imagine the weight on his back be a burden rather than a crazed pirate. He could barely make out what was happening next. His mind had drifted off to another world. A world far from the likes of these black sails. He was back on the Spanish Coast, watching the white foam recede from the pale sands. The cool breeze was playing through his hair right now... Suddenly, the weight disappeared from his back all together. Diego snapped back to reality. He wasn't walking the shores of his homeland; he was stranded in the midst of pirates in a whole other world. Diego lifted his head from the deck and noticed that Bec had offered his hand! Of all things... the man had just stabbed him in the back, and now he wanted to be chivalrous? Diego pushed the Captain's hand out of the way. Slowly, he steadied himself on to his feet. His wound ached, throbbing from the air. The flesh was slowly knitting itself together, but not fast enough.
His first command was given to Diego; he was to follow the "good Captain." Diego noted the gestures he was making to another crew member. This fellow was just as big as Diego; his hair was a rather strange characteristic for someone that looked human. The instant his eyes fell in Chuck's direction, his nose wrinkled up. Looks were deceiving. There was something wrong with this man. The smell reminded him of a smoldering fire, thick black smoke that choked one's breath. There was no use fighting this simple order. Diego had to follow this man, or he may risk having his two favorite belongings severed. At least this would get him far from the crowd; their constant staring made him on edge. Each step he took felt heavy as if he was being dragged into his own grave.
The Captain's quarters was pretty impressive. All sorts of trinkets lined its walls and floors, ranging from valuables to a strange assortment of under garments. Diego noticed that the Captain was making himself "comfortable" on the bed. Instantly, Diego swallowed. Was he really going to...? A second order was given; he didn't even realize that he closed the door. This was it; he was in a closed room with a sexual deviant [that wasn't like him!]. He noticed that "Mr. Dead [a nickname due to his scent]" padded his bed, offering a seat for him. There had to be something to distract the situation. No way in Hell would be play bottom with him! Diego noticed the massive collection of paintings hanging on the wall. There was a few that he recognized. Donatello, Francesco Graudri... one of the paintings did stand out. Diego didn't go to the bed; he was drawn to a curious painting of sailors.
"Rembrandt?" his eyes felt up every piece of the painting, trying to figure out what was wrong with it. Suddenly, his eyes widened. For the first time [in a long time], Diego was laughing. "Tsk tsk... and 'ere I thought you knew about art..." His accent was quite thick, rolling his "r's" and dropping his "h's." Diego was truly a man that walked the streets of Madrid.
Quote:
OoC Just a head's up... he's talking about "The Storm on the Sea of Galilee" by Rembrandt. Thought it fit the whole "sea adventure" thing.