Pierre clutched the boy to his chest tightly, not willing to let him go. Uncanny how over the course of the last twenty four hours, he’d become almost like a little brother.
Revolutionary War Roleplay! [CLOSED]
Francis rest his head on Pierre, sighing slowly. "I'm strong," he laughed, "But I can't.. Run…"
“I’ll go jogging with you every morning if you want,” he promised, “or I could help you work out.”
He wiped his brow, and some of the makeup came with it, unveiling the faint freckles to be rather prominent above a face that showed its hours of being outside.
Pierre moved to fix it, but achieved nothing. “Do you have any more makeup with you? You’re going to have to reapply.”
Francis laughed out loud. "I do.."
“Do you want me to go get it for you?” he offered, scrutinizing Francis’s face for any signs of pain.
"Um, yeah.." He stares at Pierre's face.
“Sure. Where exactly is it?” He glanced back at the door. Peter had not returned yet.
"In my bag," he replied quietly.
He nodded, squeezed the boy’s shoulder, and slipped from the tent.
He found Francis’s tent easily, and tried to locate the bag as quickly as possible without rooting around in his personal possessions.
Francis had tied a bundle of drying flowers to a pole of his tent.
Pierre smiled at the sight of the flowers, oddly reminded of Edonine. Or maybe this was just the universe’s way of torturing him…
He still had an apple left, a lovely, familiar shade of speckled yellow.
Pierre did his best to ignore the apple’s presence, but the colour was ever-present in his mind, bringing forth painful memories of how things had been with the woman who had cared for him.
He located the bag of makeup and moved to leave the tent, anxious to escape.
Francis laid on his side, staring into nothing.
He returned to the tent with the bag of makeup, setting it on the boy’s lap.
Francis sighed slowly, wanting to speak, but.. He didnt.
Pierre remained silent, knowing that if Francis wanted to speak to him, he would. He was afraid of pushing his newfound friend out of his comfort zone.
He pulled out what he needed, and began to replace what he wiped off. "What would you do," he asked, "If you liked someone–a lot, and they were right under your nose?"
(Lmao)
(G’morning)
Pierre chuckled softly, but it was laced with a tinge of sadness. “I’m not one to ask for relationship advice, Francis.. to be entirely honest I’d probably pray for them to make the first move. But if I were someone else— like Louis— I might straight up ask them to dinner.”
Francis sighed with a note of frustration.
“Who is this person?” Pierre queried, running a hand through his hair,
"Nothing," he mumbled, looking directly at Pierre.
Pierre sighed, knowing that he probably wouldn't get a good answer. "Boy or girl?"
"Boy." Now there was a bit of a smile. His emotions were changing so quickly, it was confusing.
Pierre nodded, chewing his lip in thought. "Where are you from? Do they live near you?"
"Um, close.. To…" He looked distinctly left, "Boston," he lied painfully.
He sighed again. "If you're going to lie, at least make it convincing."