She sighed shakily, and started to doze as she calmed down.
Revolutionary War Roleplay! [CLOSED]
Pierre set her down on his bed gently, pulling the covers up to her chin.
She sighed quietly, and fell asleep.
Time skip to morning?)
Sure)
Want me to start?)
Sure!)
Pierre woke just as the sun was sending pink ribbons of light across the horizon.
Edonine was asleep right under his arm, cheek pressed to his flank. He could hear his fellow soldiers chatting and eating breakfast.
“Edonine,” he murmured softly, trying to wake her.
"Mm." She whined sleepily in reply. The woman burrowed her face into his armpit.
He laughed softly, trying to lift her up. “C’mon…”
"Nooo…" She sighed, begrudgingly lifting her head.
He groaned. “What do I have to do to get you out of bed?”
Edonine rested a hand over his heart. "If the British attack," she smiled.
He blinked, froze, realizing something. The British..
Edonine cocked her head, noticing the cloud pass over his eyes. "Pierre?"
He shook his head, swallowing. “When I met you… I could hear the British accent in your voice.. we had an argument about why you were helping me despite the fact that I was technically your enemy, remember? And now you’re fighting your country…”
She rest her head down. "I don't care about country, Pierre. What I do care for, is you."
Hesitation swam in his eyes. “I don’t want you to do something that big on my account..”
"What else have I?" She sat up, huffing out a little. "I am a woman with nothing but some poultry and a sour past,"
Pierre shook his head. “That’s not all you are. But point taken.”
She scooped up his hand. "Let's go get breakfast,"
“Mm,” he agreed, standing with a yawn.
Edonine slipped off the cot. She brushed some makeup across her face to go under her Francis façade, slip on a vest over her man's bishop-sleeved undershirt. She pulled her short hair back in a ponytail. "Ready."
Pierre gave her a smile, then realized he was in a nightshirt and there was nothing to duck behind in the tent. “Erm..”
"What?" She smiled. "Pierre, I've seen plenty of the other soldiers butt naked when bathing in the same river they fetch water from. It's okay," she chortled.
The comment made Pierre flush bright red. “Oh— I just—“
"Aw, you're more scared of undressing than you are the tip of a redcoat bayonet," she teased, placing her hands on her hips.
Pierre groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “You really enjoy tormenting me, don’t you?”
"Fairly," she giggled, and left the tent to allow him privacy.
He stuck his tongue out at her back like a petulant child, before pulling his shirt over his head.