I cant remember, lets make it 16. Boys were considered men at 15-16 years of age. That rule was pretty much ignored though, especially closer to the end of the war when they needed more soldiers. But there was still people like Pierre who was heartily against letting young boys enlist and inevitably die)
Revolutionary War Roleplay! [CLOSED]
Got it, thanks)
Pierre set his jaw, something unidentifiable flickering across his features. “Cutting it a little close, aren’t we?”
The kid shifted his out of place, almost feminine jaw. "Well," he shrugged.
Pierre didn’t believe him for a second— there was no way this tiny scrap was sixteen years of age. “Do yourself a favour,” he sighed, “and go back home.”
"I can't!" he spoke a little louder, a little sharper. "I can't go home," his tone became firm and nervous.
This put a considerable dent in Pierre's determination. "Look," he sighed. "This is war. You're what, fifteen? Younger? Don't do this to yourself."
"Sixteen," his eyes furrowed, lifted a hand and pushed poorly cut hair behind his ear.
Pierre sighed again, tapping his pen against the paper in his hands. "Fine. Do you pledge your allegiance?" He couldn't help feel a hard knot of guilt form in his stomach, but it was evident that the kid did not want to go back home.
"Yes." He answered firmly with his high-pitched, strained voice trying to sound deeper. Clearly embarrassed by his lack of masculinity, surely.
Pierre assigned him a commander and waved him away with a twinge of regret.
Before he began to walk away, "…Where.. Should I set up my tent?" He asked. Francis probably didn't know anyone else here. Maybe.. The boy needed a guardian.
A guardian angel.
(awwww)
Pierre felt a tug in his heart and glanced back at the long line of boys. As if on cue, one of his comrades came to take his place, so he turned to Francis with a slight smile. "Here, I'll show you."
The kid smiled widely, pushing his messy hair back again. "What's your name?"
Pierre led him around the mess of tents to a bare spot, unable to help a larger smile. "Pierre," he introduced.
The kid's thin-lipped smile twitched briefly wider. "Can you help me put it up? I've.. Never put one up before." He pushed his hair back.
Pierre let out an exasperated sigh, but the twinkle still remained in his eye. "Are you sure you're sixteen?" He bent down to take the tent from the boy, unfolding it deftly.
He scratched his sunburnt arms, "Well, I'm a city boy," he laughed lightly. Pierre could still hear the nervously excited lick in his tone.
Pierre raised a single eyebrow, but said nothing. "Alright, to you're going to want to grab hold of those poles over there…"
He picked them up as he was told.
They finished fairly quickly, and Pierre gave the boy a list of instructions for the rest of the day.
"What's…" He hesitated to speak. Scratched his ear. "You're the guy that got struck by lightning, right?" The question sounded weird on the kid's tongue.
Pierre nodded after a pause, scratching at the nape of his neck. "That would be me."
He nodded slowly. "How did you live..?"
Pierre gave a loose shrug, a mask of nonchalance crashing down on his face. "A woman saved me, took care of me."
"What was her name?" He asked curiously. A little twitch of a grin on his mouth.
Pierre let out an exasperated groan. "Not you too!" He paused though, spoke her name. "Her name is Edonine." He refused to use the past tense, refused to say 'was'. She was still in his life, wasn't she?
The kid smiled wider. "Nice.."
He rolled his eyes, raking a hand through his dark hair. "Yes, very."
The kid laughed quietly, covered his face. "Okay, okay," he coughed, "Um, I'm starving,"
(what's your idea to bring Edonine closer to the war?)
(also, do they have some sort of meal tent.. or..?)