"But I can't swaddle them," she sat in the grass, "I can't feed them and hear them giggle, I can't give them advice on how to properly love a lady when they're all grown,"
Revolutionary War Roleplay! [CLOSED]
“Technically, you can do all those things,” he pointed out, stifling his laughter. “Other than hearing them giggle.”
"Well…" She looked down, with a weak shrug.
“I’m just fooling around,” he smiled, tossing her a pole.
It hit her across the chest and she let it fall, "I guess,"
Pierre winced. “Sorry, sorry,” he apologized quickly, bending to retrieve the pole. “Did I upset you?”
"No, I'm just.." Edonine shifted her weight. Planted her hands on her hips. "I just want this war to be done.."
He nodded in agreement. “I know.. I’m sorry.”
She shrugged again.
Pierre sighed and turned away.
Skip?
To Gailey?)
Sure!)
Bailey couldn't sleep. Dreams of sword and gunfire kept sleep just an escaping desire. And now he found himself in the doorway to George's bedroom, the dim candlelight in the hallway casting a stretched light along the floor and across the man's sleeping face.
Sleep had wiped the man’s face clear of distress and confusion, rendering it peaceful, almost…. angelic, in a way. He didn’t wake, only shifted slightly beneath his crumpled covers.
Bailey envied this. A man who was innocent from war, free of knowing what it was like to watch a man die and his skin turn into porcelain. Bailey wanted that purity. Part of that is what made George so appealing to Bailey; he was everything that the ex-soldier was not.
A soft sound parted George’s lips as he rolled onto his side, remaining enshrouded in the heavy cloak of sleep. He fell silent again, his body going still, chestnut hair splayed across the pillow.
Bailey walked softly to his bedside, tilting his head a smidge. How cute..
George curled up into a tighter ball, and all of a sudden, his face became contorted by distress.
Bailey sank down onto the mattress. He reached over and curled his arms around the smaller man, feeling the knots in his soul unravel with the reassuring contact of another human.
Still, George didn’t wake, snared in the claws of one of his darkest fears. His lips began to move, forming jumbled words from which ‘sin’ and ‘love’ and ‘not sick’ could be heard.
"George?" Bailey whispered, words stirred the hair on the back of the man's head.
The tiny sound sent George’s eyes flying open, his breathing eratic as he tried to push himself up. He felt arms around him and panicked, jerking away, but when he turned to see who was there and saw none other than Bailey, he began to calm.
Bailey peered up at him, finding his breath had stalled. "…Are you okay..?" He whispered.
It took a moment for him to realize what had happened. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine. Did I—Did I cry out and wake you?”
"No," he replied softly. "I couldn't sleep and came in here,"
George nodded slowly, relaxing against the headboard behind him. “I’m sorry for.. what just happened.”
"Nn, shhh. It's fine." He enveloped George back into his arms.
George buried his face in Bailey’s shoulder. “Why couldn’t you sleep?” he murmured into the fabric of his nightshirt.
"Nightmares," he answered simply. He held George tighter to his chest.
“I’m sorry…” he whispered, sinking deeper into the embrace. “Do you want me to bring you some water?”