“Hola, mi nombre es Domingo.” The sentence was slow and steady, the pronunciation cautiously clear of its presence. Sloan followed the Monquistain’s tounge, watching his lips as he mouthed the sentence.
Marquis Domingo took another moment, before carefully forming another sentence. “Como te llamas?”
It has been two weeks since Domingo began teaching him Spanish. The swashbuckler was unaccustomed to the language, it was only in three days’ time when he had finally learned the alphabet. The majority of the time was spent on getting down the basics, such as: good morning/afternoon/night, hello, and goodbye. By the second week, they slowly advanced to small and simple sentences. At the end of the week is when they would have a small preview.
As enjoyable as Sloan found their sessions, they appeared more frustrating than he had imagined. By speaking the language since birth, the Monquistain made it sound so easy. He could understand him, but his mouth at times refuses to mimic the same sounds. “Mi nomber es…”
“Mi nombre es.”
Sloan swallowed. “Mi nombre es Sloan Quick.” it was shaky as far as the articulation went, nonetheless the swashbuckler was proud of himself.
Domingo repeated the sentence. “Mi nombre es…”
“Mi nombre es Sloan Quick.” The second time was much better, seeing the Monquistain’s smile made his triumph-filled expression surface.
“Muy bien, sir. You are doing well for a beginner.”
Chuckling with satisfaction, Sloan looked up into the sunset settling above the horizon. The language was becoming easier to master, with the simple words and sentences of course. Soon they would be having a full conversation in Spanish, which required even more practice. He was an excellent teacher, and he felt he could nominate himself as an excellent student.
It felt safe to put it to the test.
“Before we finish, Captain,” the Monquistain spoke as he pulled his gaze from the orange skies. “Are there any questions you would like to ask?”
“Just one.” he pierced a momentous stare into his companion’s eyes. “How do you say ‘friend’ in Spanish?”
His answer was simple. “Amigo.” Sloan nodded, then returned to the sleepy sun in the sky. He mused on the word, repetitively replaying the sound in his mind before uttering the pronunciation.
Finally he said, “I think I have another sentence I want to put together.”
“Very well, then.”
He took another minute to assure the sentence was stable and accurate. “Domingo siempre será mi amigo. Hasta el final de la Spiral.” he looked back to the monkey. “Right?” The Monquistain stared back at his captain, lost for words. The speech was almost perfect. But what had surprised him the most was the meaning of those words, the strong feeling that lingered between them.
His heart swelled at those words.
Finally, a small smile spilled onto his mien. “Si.” The swashbuckler couldn’t help but return his own. They’ve spent the rest of the evening watching the sun change positions with the moon.
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