<hr/><div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/6/6d/D1Dfb6tFfIBP.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Aletta Emelda Maria Sanchez (aka Letty) (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=200832.msg9815927#msg9815927)<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>none<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 13th, 1877<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Afternoon<br/><strong>Location:</strong>The Gates Ranch<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Walter Sinnett and Donkey, some chickens and a goat or two   :D<br/>*wearing (https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/f/fa/2122639L1uzeeRM.jpg)<br/><hr/><br/><div style="text-align: justify;">Letty was pleased to hear that Walter was ready to defend his London. It spoke of his character in a way that no one would understand from just looking at him. He was a proud man who was proud to be British… at least that was the impression that Letty finally settled upon. Perhaps she had rushed to judge him too harshly when they had first met. She silently worried that she might have allowed her temper to get the better of her during their earlier confrontation.  She owed him an apology.<br/><br/><strong>”You make is sound much nicer now senor. What is a Big Ben?”</strong> inquires Letty curiously. She had never been, that much was obvious. Perhaps one day she might see the very sites that Walter had described, but the chances were slim, and for some unknown reason, that made her feel sad. <br/><br/>The sadness grew as Walter told his story. She wasn’t surprised to hear he had to leave do to violence. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen her fair share of such acts. Even though she grew up on a farm did not mean she did not live within a community of people that had their fair share of drunks and thieves. Still, there was something more about Walter’s story that touched her heart.   It was the way he had called himself worthless.  <br/><br/>Letty frowned. <br/><br/>Without realizing it, she reached out to place her hand on his arm, offering a comforting squeeze. <strong>”Please senor, do not call yourself worthless.”</strong> <br/><br/>In the back of the barn a few chickens clucked, squabbling over a small group of seeds. The wind rattled a loose board and the rusty bell around one of the goats necks rang out in a rhythmic pattern. Letty removed her hand and placed them at the back of her head, smiling up at the ceiling of the barn as she watched the dust particles dance in the stream of sunshine. <strong>”You came here to find your fortune? Si? If you do, you can buy yourself a new name and return to you precious London and try one of those….pies, si? My mama, she makes good pie. And my papa, he is wonderful at Barbacoa… that you would like I think. We roast a sheep, the entire thing over an open fire. Mmmm I miss that.”</strong> closing her eyes Letty let her mind wander <strong>”sometimes at night I lay in bed and I can taste home.”</strong> </div>