"Oh, I used to have a cat." She explained casually.
Revolutionary War Roleplay! [CLOSED]
Pierre nodded dazedly, still incredibly baffled. "O-Oh. Okay."
She sipped her wine, "He fancies that he's not a parrot, but instead a variety of animals.." She chuckled.
Pierre couldn't help laughing. "Don't we all wish to be someone else, in a way?"
"Hm.. I can understand," Edonine echoed softly.
"Yeah…" His voice faded.
She scooped the last of the soup up, "How are you feeling?"
"The pain is a lot better.." He thought for a moment. "I'm feeling better. How about you?"
"Me? She seemed surprised.
Pierre nodded, finishing up his soup.
She blinked. "Well… Im… Tired, but im okay,"
“You should rest, then, I can be pretty draining,” he chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “And you don’t have to look to surprised..”
"Normally I… Don't expect people to worry over my well being," she stood up with her empty bowl.
Pierre stood as well, wincing slightly. He carried his plate over to the sink, glancing over at her. “How come?”
"The people of this smaller part of town know me," she spoke. "They know I've always been the… violently independent sort of women. The men call me hysterical," her eyes flickered down. A dark memory crossed them.
“Oh.” Sensing that there was some background here, some sensitive background, Pierre glanced away. “Well, you’re pretty great from what I’ve seen.”
She looked up, and answered with purpose of distancing herself, "If you say so,"
Delta bobbed his head, whistled a tune that made her smile. It was becoming evident, slowly, that Delta was a sort of emotional support for her.
Pierre let go of the subject, reaching forward to try and stroke the bird again.
The bird leaned its head away dramatically.
Time skip to night?)
(Yeah sure
Lol I love this bird
Would you mind starting?)
Not at all!)
~~
Edonine was already asleep, and only a few candles lit the room Pierre sat in. His cracked window invited in a night wind laced with nostalgia and the smell of fermenting apples and dew.
Pierre sat up in bed, closing his eyes and leaning against the cool wall. Sleep had never come easy to him, to say the least, but especially not now, what with his pounding headache and flashbacks of the accident.
He could hear the crickets and the soft squawks of a few sleepy chickens outside. Within the home, the whispers of funneled night wind, and the furious whispers of Delta, who perched in his cage in the living room.
The atmosphere of the house was relaxing, putting him at ease. For once, his mind wasn’t occupied with thoughts of the war, his fear of bloodshed.
The bird kept talking, he couldn't make out Delta's words but he could hear the phrase repeating over and over.
Frowning slightly, Pierre opened his eyes, straining his ears to make out what the bird was saying.
He could catch the sharp s and t sounds, but the rest was a mush against the night wind.
Finally, he sighed and got out of bed, shutting the window and approaching the cage quietly, so as not to wake Delta up.
Delta was already awake, feathers raised and head hunched. "There's too much. Too much of it all on the floor. I'm covered." he kept repeating, sometimes mixing sentences and words, mimicking the sound of a soft groan of agony, broken breathing. "There's too much."
Pierre's eyes went wide. His heart practically stopped beating for a few seconds. Oh. Oh. Oh my god.