Once upon a time in Mexico.

[crownedwithfire.livejournal.com]

It is the 1960s in Mexico. It was a good time, once. He loved this place; the food, the people. This is a long time before Ciudad Juarez lets it's women die and gives drug cartels an opening to create the murder capitol of the world. It is, as they say, a more innocent time. Whether this is really true remains to be seen.

This little down looks like something out of a movies; buildings in the old style. Pueblo has not gone away. Sombreros and ponchos help beat the heat. Somewhere, a stray dog chases chickens through the streets that are not paved. There is a single truck to the entire village. To call it 'remote' is something of an understatement.

Hellboy likes remote. He has a some really good tequila, a table and an empty chair. He was more innocent, then. He didn't know half of what he did. It's hard to tell that he's a teenager - he looks the same as he always has. It's a sunny afternoon, giving way slowly to the warm evening breeze off the badlands.

He waits for company.



[Yeah, my first clumsy OPN post. Things are always deceptive in Hellboy's world, so you never know if a pleasant night in Mexico will turn into a night of fighting Mexican vampires, so... who knows what can happen.]

Comments

[steady-darkness.livejournal.com]

Peace. Peace and quiet was something Cilan had adjusted to well in his own world - well, and whenever he slipped into dreams, he didn't expect it to be like this. That was, when he knew he was dreaming.

Tonight, he knew clearly this wasn't near to Unova. So he must be dreaming.

...Plus there's a red guy, as well. Who doesn't look like he's on fire or anything which would cause redness in a normal person. That's important to remember, and it doesn't look... normal. With his trademark smile, and his Pansage resting on his head, Cilan strode over with slight confidence.

"...A-are you okay?" he asked, trying not to show his own worry. Maybe this was normal for wherever or whoever this was! Who knows?

[crownedwithfire.livejournal.com]

"Sure am, kiddo," says the big man, looking down at Cilan. He looks down on everyone, though-- pushing eight feet tall means never having to look up to anything except Cthonic horrors from beyond the moon, most of the time.

"Are you okay? You look a little lost." Too worried, too white to be local. A passer-by, maybe. Hellboy rationalizes so much weird. It's a job skill.

[steady-darkness.livejournal.com]

"Ah, well, I am." Cilan admitted, with a nervous chuckle. Even though that wasn't the... technical truth, it would help with gathering information about where he was, at the very least. And that was always good. "I took a wrong turn somewhere... somewhere, I think."

[crownedwithfire.livejournal.com]

"It's easy to make a wrong turn. Just don't do it out there," he says, gesturing at the badlands. "That'll lead you some dangerous places. Here, it might just lead yuo into somebody's house and someone's mama may yell and throw the laundry at you."

It's a peaceful village. No trouble.

Except at night.