Revolutionary War Roleplay! [CLOSED]

Pierre blinked rapidly, propping himself up on one elbow to survey the pretty room. Am I in her house? This definitely isn't mine.… He would have asked, save for the fact that she was nowhere to be seen, and that he was 'sleeping'.

He heard a bird twitter from another room.

A… bird. There's a bird. Overcome by curiosity and the need to get up and move around, Pierre swung his legs out of bed, the rest of him following. Ignoring the complaints of his sore body, he stumbled towards the sound, opening the door.

Across the hall was another room, painted the same shade of optimistic yellow, yet more crowded with natural decor. On a bedpost hung a dress. Dried herbs and flowers sat on an unorganized pile on a shelf, most distinctly the scent of sage and rosemary. A pot of freshly cut daffodils perched on her dresser, blue with delicately painted clouds.

Pierre unsteadily entered, leaning on the doorframe for support. It was clearly a girl's bedroom, maybe Edonine's? He glanced around, taking it all in. She clearly had good taste in home décor.

(I gtg eat, I'll be back in a bit)

A sharp screech startled him of his senses. A fat white bird, one he'd never seen before flew down from the uppermost shelf, curling its dexterous toes around the edge of the bedframe. A balloonlike crest lifted up with excitement– what a strange parrot.

(Its a cockatoo )

(back)
(ooh)

Pierre jumped at the sudden sound, almost tripping backwards into the wall. "Hi?" he said to the exotic bird hesitantly, reaching out a hand.

The bird furiously bobbed its head. "Hi? Hi?"

Pierre tilted his head, still woozy from sleep. What?? "Uh—- hi."

The bird tilted its head.

"Delta!" Edonine whistled. The bird opened his large, bone white wings and flew over his head into the hall.

Pierre turned his head sharply, regretting it a moment after when pain spiked through his head. "I was just– aah, that hurts."

Edonine cooed to the bird in another room down the hall. "Good girl!"

Pierre unsteadily turned around, trying to quietly make his way back to his own room befoe she got angry at him.

"Delta, where's the water?" Edonine asked playfully. In response, the bird mimicked the sound of dribbling water.

Pierre couldn't help a small smile. The bird, strange as it was, was intelligent. He was halfway across the hall when he stumbled on his weak legs and fell to the ground.

Edonine turned. She stood in the living room, the large bird perched on her arm and gnawing on a nut. "Sir." Edonine sighed.

Pierre picked himself up, leaning on the wall for support. "I was just– err…. I couldn't sleep?"

"We were both," he answered. "Who are you?"

Jane appeared at John’s elbow. Her brow was set. “John, this is my father, Henry.”
Henry frowned. “John. Wasn’t there a John… 3 trips ago?”
“Father,” Jane muttered.

"So you're next bright idea was to get up and fumble around like a handicapped worm?" Edonine replied with a disappointed sigh.

John's face reddened a little, and he excused it to a heat flash. "I'm John André, under command of General Smith?" He spoke.

(Good morning :)

Pierre straightened indignantly. “Look, I was curious as to why an Englishwoman had agreed to take me into her house.”

Gmornin!
I wrote a spanish love poem, anyone wanna read?)

She had her bird step off onto a shelf, and walked to him. "Well, for one, it would be unchristianly of me to leave you to die." She picked him up. For a woman, she was.. strong.

John's face reddened a little, and he excused it to a heat flash. "I'm John André, under command of General Smith?" He spoke.

Some of Henry’s creases smoothed. “General Smith… he’s a friend of mine.”
Jane let out a subtle sigh of relief.

(Lol sure)

Pierre’s eyebrows raised slightly at her evident physical ease. “I would have been picked up by someone else, eventually. Or sent somewhere.”

André dipped his head. "I reassure you can trust me,"

She had to use the help of the wall to get him on his feet. "You really think you're that self capable to defy lightning?"

( i like to write spanish poems cos its good practice & for some reason it seems easier in another language)
Estoy bendita
Bendita porque te tengo
Bendita porque puedo te amo
Sin ti el arte es aburrido.
Poesía es nada sin tú,
Las canciónes son sin sentido
Sin tú
Toda que tengo es mis palabras
Y mi alma.
Y con esas,
Para tí, yo cantará. )

(Ooh, cool! I’m useless at most languages, jt I understand some of that and it’s realy good!)

“I never said that,” he grunted, inhaling sharply. “Just that someone else would have come along. Why are you helping me? Brits usually hate me.”

((That was beautiful))