forum Revolutionary War Roleplay! [CLOSED]

Started December 04, 2018 by @KalamariCakes

tune

"Military intel. That's all they ever want," he whispered.

April fell silent, fishing for words but coming up dry.

He rubbed his fingernails, the Spaniard's breath shaking quietly.

“How much intel?” she spoke up, “What did they ask?” She had to know. She had to know what her lover’s well-being had been traded for.

His face contorted, "Where the bullets were kept."

April was silent again, not knowing what to do or say, hardly having any idea what to think.

Cruz lifted his legs and curled up into himself, silently reliving it, replaying the sound of metal blade scraping against his skull, wanting to purge himself of it– feeling the insatiable urge to wash himself, scrub himself raw.

April squeezed his hand, a silent reassurance. “What do you want me to bring you?”

"I just want you.." Cruz murmured.

John left the tent with a deep huff– off to get a drink, give some time to himself.

The barmaid was wiping off the counter when he walked in. Her eyes scanned him and her smooth lips pulled into a smile. "Can I help you?" she asked, a light French accent tainting her words.

"A brandy, please," John croaked tiredly, fixing his pristine coat and its prominent medals of military status. He took a seat and removed his bicorn hat.

She fixed him the drink and put it down in front of him, eyeing him up. "So, why are you here? Everybody has a reason. And a handsome monsieur like yourself should never have to look so sad."

He rubbed his thumb on the foggy glass, with a slow sigh. "Major of Intelligence," he spoke, "Sounds prestigious and glorifying, til you find out it costs you weeks of sleepless nights and hundreds of miles from the people you love," John digressed in his sleepy, basey, croaking voice. He took a stiff sip of alcohol.

"Well, I'm sure that you can get a little sleep just one night," she said, taking in the military medals on his red coat. "Do you have a name, Monsieur?"

"André, John.. John André," he replied, his words skipping.

"You must be very brave to be the Major of Intelligence, Monsieur André," she remarked smoothly, wiping the far edge of the bar.

A smile teased the corner of his lips. "I hardly see a battle anymore. What makes you say that?"

"Don't you start out as a foot soldier?" she inquired, pausing her work to look over at him. "And you work your way up. N'est-ce pas?"

He cleared his throat, "Vous avez raison."

She arched her eyebrows. "Tu parles Français, Monsieur?"

"Et trois autres langues," he added.

"Pas surprenant," she remarked with a small smile, walking back over to him. "Une pleine?"

"Je suis plus familier avec l'espagnol," He added with a small smile.

"Ah. Je suis venue de France quand j'étais plus jeune. Une pleine?" she asked, motioning to his glass.

John nodded briefly, and apologized for not answering her the first time. "My father was French," he spoke. "My mother was Swiss,"

She turned to fill his glass up again. "My father was British, my mother was French," she remarked with a smile.

"Ah.. He commented softly. "I've.. Always loved Europe. Not just my home country," he spoke.

"Your home country – England, oui?" She put the glass back in front of him.

"Yes," he took a hefty drink from his freshly capped beverage.

She smirked. "You're quite the drinker, Monsieur André."

"For tonight," he laughed heavily.

"Is something the matter?" she asked, briefly wiping her hands on a clean towel before setting it aside.