Enter a young man, clothed only in linen pants and a cowhide belt, with a musket slung over one shoulder. He looks around briefly, to note his surroundings, then tilts his head with a slight smile. When he speaks, his voice is quiet, and a bit hoarse from disuse.

"This is not la puebla de Los Angeles."

Typist: This would be Bernardo, Don ( Read more... )

Sink me! Since it's spring and all, I do believe we should have a butterfly hunt. Would anyone care to join me?

*with the help of her typist's resident artist boy, Allison wheels a curious chair into the mansion*


( Read more... )

Hola, friends! This appears to be a rather intriguing place, I must say ( Read more... )