Revolutionary War Roleplay! [CLOSED]

"It's a park," he teased gently, resting an arm around her shoulders.

“Try again,” she said softly. “It’s more than a park. What does your heart see?”

"Only you, my dear," John hummed.

Jane blushed a little. “Close your eyes and tell me what your heart sees.”

He shut his creek-green eyes as she instructed.

“Tell me what your heart sees,” she repeated once his eyes were closed.

"Well," he tried really hard. And his creativity left him. "I… I'm happy..?"

"Thank you. Are you hungry?" She asked.

As if on cue, Pierre’s stomach growled. He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, only to yank the hand away, his skin burning. “Yeah, thanks. Are you?”

"Well," he tried really hard. And his creativity left him. "I… I'm happy..?"

She giggled. “That’s how you feel, silly. What does your heart…” she paused, “see?”

"Yes," she chuckled. "Come back inside then."

He sighed quietly. "The.. Color… Blue…" He began slowly.

He sighed quietly. "The.. Color… Blue…" He began slowly.

"What about the color blue? Why does your heart see blue?"

His face relaxed. "The smell of salt and old wood.."

"Mmm… what else?"

"Yes," she chuckled. "Come back inside then."

He trailed after her, taking one last look at the scenic garden before stepping inside.

"I'm on a Spanish clipper ship, in the Mexican Gulf east of St. Croix and the Nevis," John spoke.

She headed to the kitchen, where a potato soup simmered over a small fire.

"I'm on a Spanish clipper ship, in the Mexican Gulf east of St. Croix and the Nevis," John spoke.

She let him roll with it, trying to understand where he was going with this.

Pierre continued to follow, unsure of his place or where he should go. The enticing aroma of soup his his nose, and the smile returned to his face. "Smells good."

He exhaled softly again, "There's a man." He said simply, but the gentle flush to his cheeks said more.

"Take a seat, I'll make you a bowl,"

Pierre sat carefully, thanking her. He inhaled deeply, glancing around the pretty kitchen.

In the center was a homemade candle holder, fashioned from the sawed off branch of a birch tree and deer antler.

"Where did you get this?" he asked her, brushing his fingers over the elegant object.

"From a man who wanted to marry me," she spoke vaguely, setting down his bowl and sitting beside him.

He exhaled softly again, "There's a man." He said simply, but the gentle flush to his cheeks said more.

“And…” she pressed.

Oh, how his face went red. He opened his eyes, cut it off. Lied quickly. "That's all,"

Jane sensed that there was more. "And?" she repeated.

"That's it," he answered very meekly.

“Are you sure?” she asked softly.