forum Revolutionary War Roleplay! [CLOSED]

Started December 04, 2018 by @KalamariCakes

tune

"Oh, a war friend. We're close," he laughed, "I sent him an invitation,"

"Would you like to go and look for him?" she asked.

"Yes," he breathed softly to Jane.

"Why don't you lead? I have no clue what he looks like," she laughed.

Spoiler alert, miraculously saved)
Could Pierre ride to the old camp to see whats left of it, and see Cruz in the woods?)

Cruz faded from and out of consciousness. The cold, ever present, even in his mental absence. The color white and the absence of it. And again… where was April…?

(Oh thank god
Yes yes definitely he can do that
Right now?)

"Why don't you lead? I have no clue what he looks like," she laughed.

"Yes'm," John murmured, and began weaving his way through the crowd.

Spoiler alert, miraculously saved)
Could Pierre ride to the old camp to see whats left of it, and see Cruz in the woods?)

Cruz faded from and out of consciousness. The cold, ever present, even in his mental absence. The color white and the absence of it. And again… where was April…?

(Oh thank god
Yes yes definitely he can do that
Right now?)

Ma ye b )

Well, he didn't want to die.
He didn't think he'd go like this.

Jane followed, waving every so often at someone.

Peter was standing in the corner, talking with Elizabeth.

"Peter!" John called, a smile spreading over his face.

Peter looked over and his face lit up. He whispered something to Elizabeth, and she nodded, looping her arm through his. Together, they walked over to the couple. "John! And this must be the lovely Jane who captured the tough Lieutenant's heart!" He kissed Jane's hand.

"Yes, yes, she is," John gushed happily. "Now my wife!"

Jane blushed and leaned against John. "How much have you told him about me?"

Spoiler alert, miraculously saved)
Could Pierre ride to the old camp to see whats left of it, and see Cruz in the woods?)

Cruz faded from and out of consciousness. The cold, ever present, even in his mental absence. The color white and the absence of it. And again… where was April…?

(Oh thank god
Yes yes definitely he can do that
Right now?)

Ma ye b )

Well, he didn't want to die.
He didn't think he'd go like this.

yeah
should I switch perspectives to Pierre now? There's not much to do with Louis

Yes)

Jane blushed and leaned against John. "How much have you told him about me?"

"Mm, too much. But I trust him," John reassured his wife.

"I'm going out," Pierre announced to Edonine and Geoffrey, rising to his feet. "I want to see what's left of the camp."

Edonine gave an unsure look. "All by yourself?"

Geoffrey gave a similar expression of disapproval.

"I'll be careful," he promised, "But there might still be something left." Meaning, of course, that each of the precious letters he had written to his father might still be salvageable.

"Be careful," Edonine exhaled. "Please. Redcoats might still be lurking.."

"I know. I will, I promise." Pierre began to move about the room, grabbing his coat, a knife, a gun.
(Does Geoffrey know about Edonine?)

(Im gonna ponder that and say no, not yet )

She bit her lip, "Be back by six,"

(got it)

"Yes, sir," he answered with a mock salute, almost forgetting to use male pronouns when referring to her in front of Geoffrey.

Geoffrey laughed quietly, "How come the litte sprout is bossing you around now?"

Pierre almost snorted aloud. If only you knew… "Just wait, you'll find yourself under his control fairly soon."

"Aye.. If only for saving me." Geoffrey sighed. Edonine smiled amusedly.

Pierre shook his head, giving a small smile. "See you," he called, before closing the door behind him.

The winter peppered cold snowflakes onto Pierre's exposed skin, and salted his hair.

He hunched his shoulders against a slice of wind and started towards the camp– or what was left of it.

Smoke still twirled up from what the redcoats burnt. Ash blew across the decrepit field like tiny white petals.

Pierre walked among the debris, weight seeming to settle on his shoulders. Tents had been shredded, poles snapped, almost like skeletons sticking out of the charred ground. There was no way to discern his tent from the rest.

Movement flitted at the edge of his eye. A brown pelt, a coyote. The canine stared at him for a few moments, then sauntered into the woods towards a scent.