Revolutionary War Roleplay! [CLOSED]

Clinton is my spirit animal )

John's face looked hollow.

"Ah, it would be my pleasure," he laughed heartfully.

Francis set his stuff down on the grass, deciding that would be the place to set up their flimsy abode.

"Here?" he asked, crouching beside the discarded backpack.

"Yeah," She agreed, peeling off the cotton blue coat to air out in their lighter undershirt.

Clinton is my spirit animal )

John's face looked hollow.

"Ah, it would be my pleasure," he laughed heartfully.

(XD I kinda just love that he's so oblivious…)

Peter, for the first time since the affair, felt a twinge of sympathy for John. He blinked and looked back at Clinton. "Thank you, sir."

He dipped his head, "Take it as a gratitude towards my dedicated men,"

Peter smiled. "Sir, you're too kind."

"Yeah," She agreed, peeling off the cotton blue coat to air out in their lighter undershirt.

He nodded and took hold of the tent poles, beginning to drive them into the ground.

Francis leaned in to help, a focused look scrawled across her face.

Peter smiled. "Sir, you're too kind."

Clinton just held his smile. John glanced at Peter.

(Do you want to skip, but still stay with John and Peter? Just a little forward so they can talk?)

Yeah)

(Okay!)

Peter was in his tent again, preparing to write a letter to Elizabeth.

His friend sat outside in a wooden chair, eyes downcast to a twig he was sharpening. Curls of shred wood piled on the grass—thin slices of his absent thoughts.

He walked over to him slowly. "What are you going to do with all those?" he asked, motioning towards the growing pile.

"Nothing," John murmured. He didn't look up.

Cough symbolism cough )

Peter clenched his jaw. "John…"

He stopped shaving the knife across the stick, and looked up at Peter.

He grimaced. "I'm sorry for saying the things I did."

"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."

Francis leaned in to help, a focused look scrawled across her face.

He lifted his head, biting the baffled look on her face. “Are you okay?”

"Yeah," she nodded, "I'm just thinking.."

“About..?” he prompted, holding eye contact.

She rubbed her nose with her forearm, "Everything,"

“Like what?” he asked again, driving one of the spikes into the ground.

"Like…" She inhaled, and answered quietly, "Being a mother.."

A small smile tugged at his lips. “You’re really excited for that, aren’t you?”

Edonine's lips pulled into a similar smile. "I am.. I am… I want to know what it's like to grow something more than just plants," the woman hummed.

“You’ll do amazing,” he assured, blinking away his residual sorrow. “But, for the record, your plants make good children.”

She tilted her head back to laugh, "Well! Our conversations are heavily one-sided!"

“That’s good, though!” he protested. “They can’t argue with you.”