Current Residence: Teh Westcountreeee, England. And, Reading|
Favourite genre of music: Indie rock
Favourite photographer: Man Ray
MP3 player of choice: NOT IPOD
EumenidesThe French officer's name was Commandant Benoit DuMoyen, and he was forced to speak within the confines of a language which, while it was similar to his native tongue, nearly caused him to vomit when he barked his challenge.Eumenides by wbrooks
"Where is the one called Astley?!" He snarled in English and tugged at the reins in his shabbily gloved hands so that his mare was forced into a half-rear as she turned. Commandant DuMoyen was a thin-faced man, clean shaven with two substantial touches of grey at either temple.
The tiny Spanish village's name, if it even had one, was unimportant. What was important was that a score of British infantrymen were holed up in a church, along with a mob of partisans. DuMoyen was reluctant to desecrate the church in his efforts to kill the enemy. He had grown up in a very small village in the south of France, though his men did not know it, and he'd been raised a good catholic by his mother. So he hoped the Englishman he was seeking would come to him.
"Do the Briti