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Topics - Isabella Flores

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1958 / watch your step - gia
« on: 12/15/2019 at 21:53 »
Isabella had tried the dresses and skirts of the English, tried forcing her unruly curls into their coiffed hairstyles. She'd tried her best to give it all a go, always curious to find out more about them, but the fact of the matter was that they sucked. And coming from Isabella, that said a lot.

Everything was too tight, too thick, too stiff. Isabella hadn't lasted longer than two weeks before she'd scraped it all in favour of a simple pair of wide leg cotton trousers and white shirt that she'd grown used to wearing when working with her parents. In a last attempt to at least try, she'd donned a cowboy hat, but that wasn't even really English and so by all accounts it had been a complete failure.

Making her way cautiously down the red hell's ridge as it had been deemed, Isabella couldn't have felt less like she was in England. The reddish rocks, the cowboy hats, the canyon, all made it feel like America, and in the depths of her imagination she found she wouldn't be surprised to see a thunderbird rounding the corner, her parents chasing after it in some disorderly, no doubt dangerous, manner.

Instead though, Isabella found a small (and by small she meant tiny) girl up ahead, silver hair impossible to miss in the baking sun. Isabella was not one to forget a face (or back of one in this situation). She started forward with a smile, memories of a nervous little girl standing up at the front of the tent by a load of sliced up frogs coming to mind.

"Good job with the case study," Isabella nodded.

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