forum Revolutionary War Roleplay! [CLOSED]

Started December 04, 2018 by @KalamariCakes

tune

George sat up, wiping the residual sleep from his eyes.

Bailey breathed in and out at a soft pace, breathing through his lips.

“Bailey…” he whispered, shaking his shoulder.

"Mhh.." he grunted quietly, lifting his head. A blond cowlick sprung from being trapped under his head, and perched over his forehead.

"Well, I deserve it," he looked back down and continued, resignation in his words. "I'm a disappointment, a failure, and an awful husband, you were right." Peter couldn't tell if John was being sarcastic, or if he genuinely believed this now. "You were right."

Peter stood up. "Did you tell Jane yet?"

"No." He grunted. He looked up. "You know, Peter, I haven't seen her in almost a month." He looked back down. "An entire month.."

Bro. I burst a blood vessel two days ago by drawing too intensely )
Its still swollen 😂 )

"No." He grunted. He looked up. "You know, Peter, I haven't seen her in almost a month." He looked back down. "An entire month.."

Bro. I burst a blood vessel two days ago by drawing too intensely )
Its still swollen 😂 )

(That's a mood! XD)

"John, go home," Peter urged him.

"I can't, for the fourth time. Clinton has to release me. I can't leave on my own." He muttered.

"Tell him it's to see Jane, I'm sure he'll allow it."

He shrugged slowly. "I don't know." He watched anither curly shaving of wood drift onto the grass.

"Do you not want to see your wife?"

John shot him daggers with a look.

He frowned. "You have to tell her."

"You're like a leech in my side," John mumbled, looking back down to his knife and twig.

He crossed his arms. "I can leave if you like, sir."

John said absolutely nothing.

Skip? I can start )

John waited in his undershirt in the rain, waiting for her to answer. Clinton wasn't letting him borrow coats anymore. So here he was, to get it back from where he had torn it off his own shoulders in an impassionated, awful decision. He looked down at his shoes, then back to the door, and knocked again.

Mirelle looked up from behind the bar and wiped her hands on the front of her dress before hurrying over to open the door. She looked as though she'd been slapped. "M-Monsieur André?"

He looked sideways and down. Quietly, he murmured, "I left my coat here…"

"Won't you come in? Out of the rain at least." She opened the door wider.

John shuffled inside. His hair drooped against his skull, soaked, dripping and simply soaking him further. He wore a leather vest over his undershirt as most men did, but what was visible of the shirt had turned sheer from the water. "Where is it…?" He asked quietly, seeming subdued.

"In my room," she murmured. "Would you like me to get it?"

He nodded briefly, rolling his sleeves up. The moisture made his arms itch.

"Are you alright?" she asked worriedly.