Miguel smiled at seeing so many people of his own race, he was part Spanish but never got the chance to visit Spain. People looked at him weirdly and he understood why, its not every day you see an 18 year old boy with horns and a tail. As far as Miguel was aware, it was the middle of August which meant the Castell festivities were going on.
While the epicenter of the Castell took place in Terragona, most cities had their own preliminary festivities. The streets were tighter today than usual, full of busily preparing citizens buying and getting to town squares, instead of taking their traditional afternoon siestas.
(My old Spanish teacher has a husband who was in one of the tower making teams! We learned all about it last year)
(Neat! My Spanish teacher taught us about it yesterday)
Several people bumped into Miguel and he bumped into people as well, he didn't say anything except for the occasional, "Lo siento" to make sure people didn't get mad at him. He found an open spot where it wasn't so crowded and stood there trying to catch his breath.
What level Spanish are you??? I'm in Spanish four)
Ahead of him, though, he could see a struggling, winged person trying to push through the crowd, wings raised as trying not to take up space.
(Only level one, but I love it)
Miguel was interested by the winged male in the crowd, he slipped past people until he came face to face with him, "Hi-wait…Hola. ¿Habla ingles?" He asked unsure if the make spoke English or not.
He looked dazed. It was easy to notice the kid wasn't very fond of crowds. "Ah– perdonome, sí, un poco ingles," he wiped a hand down his face, "Lo siento, estoy agobiado.. ahora…"
Miguel nodded, "Comprensible…se llama Miguel." Miguel responded smiling.
"Mi nombre es Rasheed." He replied, "¿Vienes de England?"
"Si…can…can you understand me if I talk in English?" He asked, Rasheed.
"I can understand more," he misworded, then corrected himself in a nervous blurt, "most. I can understand most of your words,"
Miguel smiled, "Cool! So what're'ya doing?"
"I am looking for…" He squinted, wiping sweat off his face, "Fish? Pescado?"
"I'm sure they're selling some by the boardwalk." Miguel confirmed, remembering the fresh fish shops from when he got off the ship.
"I like some help," he struggled in his English, but managed to get his point across. He lowered his wings, which were shaking tiredly from being kept elevated.
Miguel nodded, "Okay, follow me!" He started in the direction from which he came from.
Rasheed shuffled after, weaving through his fellow Spaniards.