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| unsatisfiied
unsatisfiied
♀️
[41967210]
[2017-03-10 02:29:48 +0000 UTC]
"you want a revolution?"
(United States)
# Statistics
Favourites: 117; Deviations: 28; Watchers: 186
Watching: 160; Pageviews: 3903; Comments Made: 892; Friends: 160
# Comments
Comments: 825
" eliza, I'm lookin' for a mind at work, work !! "
hello and welcome !! ♥♥
I'd appreciate if you took a gander at my rules, which can be found on my index, before watching!!
please reply to this comment to roleplay or talk ooc![ artwork on my page is done my szin/juuria!! ]
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Helpless!
ADSK your prof is so pretty !!! i would love to rp with you one day aa im just super bad at starting them out haha ;;__::
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.Vive la France! cue Summertime from Clipping.
Sunglasses hung low on the bridge of his nose as he messed about with some of his dreadlocks, phone in hand. A week in Hawaii, why not? Well, maybe too, it depended on his work back in New-York. While he adored working with teens, seeing himself in them so veey often... he needed a break. Obviously he wanted Angelica along with him and he was waiting for her at their spot, his form in the shade and trapped in the wetsuit he wore. Noe he wasn't going to ask her if she wanted to try it with him, given that there was a lot of people and the waves here aren't made for trainees. She excused herself to get something to snack and he obviously stayed to keep an eye on their things; sure, he bought anti-theft bags and all but some people always found their way around. Pale eyes moved up to look at the crystal waters by the shore, smiling. He could probably skip surfing today and simply just swim with her, not all places had waves. Eyes closed as he pushed himself further into the towel, digging himself a spot to fit his form. A gentle yet quick tap grabbed his attention, he obviously was about to nap there, idiot. "Oh, hey..! I totally wasn't going to try to nap in such a place, no, never would I." He snickered, looking up to his wife with a grin. "So, what did you get?"
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Both of them were standing out on some porch after a long yet delightful party. A couple glasses and a bunch of laughters shared between them and other people, a few dances, a couple whispers. It had been a wonderful evening, he couldn't hide it (nor did he want to). The only issue that seemed to emerge was the chill air outside of the building they were in had taken it's place when the sun went down. Now, while he wasn't chilly with the cape he had on, he noticed the woman by his side with her petticoat. Blinking and with a soft smile, hands unfastened the buttons of his cape and he delicately draped her shoulders with it, humming. "Je ne voudrais pas que l'air froid vous atteint, ma belle." He stated with a soft peck at her temple, what a man. Gilbert placed his arms around her from behind and buried his head between the collar of the cape and her neck, placing soft kisses all over. "Vous-ai je dit que vous êtes la femme la plus magnifique au monde? Je m'en crois très chanceux.." he continued to mumbled, he just loved throwing affection at her all the time.
(I wouldn't want the cold air to get to you, my pretty)
(Have I told you that you are the most magnificent woman in the world? I think of myself quite lucky.)
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The evening had been lovely, to say the least - perhaps it was because the Schuyler was so accustomed to parties at this point that they weren't much of a hassle anymore, but even still - the hours spent there had went well, and she wouldn't have accompanied it with anyone other than her love. The two of them were currently residing on a porch outside the building the festivities were held in. It'd gotten a bit chilly since the sun had went down, but nothing Angelica would complain about. She rubbed at her arms occasionally though said nothing of the matter until Laf draped his cape over her, making the woman blink and shoot a reluctant look back at him. "Hey, I'm okay--" She tried to assure softly, though her protests died down with a quiet sigh as the Frenchman pressed a peck to her temple. She didn't hide the way she leaned into the contact, nor the way she tugged the cape a little tighter around her. And then he was burying his face in the spot between her neck and shoulder with his arms wrapped around her waist, and she could only laugh softly before she was leaning back into his hold. "Souvent," she whispered with another soft snicker, turning her head just enough to press a kiss to his head. "But I think of myself pretty lucky, too."
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Of course, he wouldn't worry about her getting used to parties; people of their class were common in such places so where was the bother? Rumors had been that the man couldn't dance, well, maybe not at first but with time and her... he had trained that skill and they spent hours moving along the main hall's floor in sync with others. While it had been fun socializing and gossiping with others, the man wanted to spend more quality time with her; hence going outside. A soft chuckle left him as protests died to a mere sigh. A hand delicately cupped her cheek as contact was made and how she leaned into it. Eyes quietly noticed the cape handed to her being tugged at and grinned. As he was behind her and cradled her into his arms he gently rocked the two of them from side to side, humming against her skin. "Vraiment?" The major general teased back at her in a giddy way, teeth biting his lower lip when he felt tender lips on his head. "Well, it is an honor to have you as my marquise.."
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( strokes my penis yes yes hi i'm the 1% of hamilton artists who don't copy already existing artstyles thank u for joining my foundation ur support is appreciated )
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congratulations.
the SHADE
glad to be apart of such a vast community ur welcome bb
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( SOMETHING ABOUT A HURRICANE I FORGOT MY OOC TAG FUCKER ) POPS U UPSIDE THE HEAD where u been mah boi
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congratulations.
WTF YOU MEAN I'VE BEEN HERE THIS WHOLE TIME
how've u been my love kiss kiss
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aight let's rock this au
It's he pronouns until ange knows who this is.
Hands were held tightly against his own coat as he strode downhill to fetch some paperwork, the warm chocolate colored orbs set on the road ahead of him, a lantern in hand to guide his way through the dark night aura surrounding him. Perhaps his mind was somewhere else that night, but the general was mumbling to himself in Spanish, it didn't really sound all nice and pink. This hadn't been a good day for the man, either. Some paperwork was far due, soldiers were missing in action. The usual. He always told himself that. Once in his tent he settled down the lantern and brown orbs got to his papers and a sigh left him. A medical report on top. With weirdly delicate fingers he retrieved the sheet with furrowed eyebrows. Well, at least all went well on that side of the camp (though the medic asked for larger bandages, he never really understood why). When this was done, Van Der Burgh was so... so tempted to just go to sleep. But something enthralled the man to go outside. Perhaps instinct.
Hands grabbed the lantern, filling it back up with oil and went back out, he decided that perhaps a nightly stroll around the camp wouldn't really hurt. The man was about to leave until something bit and tug at his hair that was tied up. "--tramposo." He snickered as he noticed his horse looking at him with anticipation. "No, no, not tonight, chico." He whispered, leaving the white robed animal behind. Hand to his side as the other held the lantern up, the general made his way through the humid night as heels dug gently into the soft soil beneath him, all seemed well until his mind began to travel again and well... never had he expected to walk right into someone, a small grunt leaving him. "Oi, tonto, watch where you're going, sì?!" The thing is. The general never realized that he was speaking with his usual, deep, sultry, feminine voice.
Good job Maria .
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"Shit, forgot my lantern."
The medic had already been a distance away from his tent when he made this observation however, so with a grieving sigh he just figured he could make the trip to the general's tent and back without it. It's not like anyone would be out walking about right now, most were preparing for sleep or were already in position for night watch. So no harm, right? With a long yawn, the man pushed a few curls out of his face and behind his ear. As long as he could make it to the general's tent, that is - he felt tired enough to just collapse right here, though he figured he'd been more tired in the past before. He'd prooobably be fine. With that comforting thought, he shoved his paperwork back into his messenger bag and started making his way down the paved path.
It was going fine for a while, though if he were being honest, Church was mostly on autopilot. His mind flickered away from his current task and to his current supplies (he really needed larger bandages, as funny as it seemed - people always getting scraped up in the stupidest ways, and using smaller ones just seemed to be a waste) and things he needed back at his own tent, people he needed to talk to.. he wasn't really watching where he was going, even when the glow of a lantern came into clear sight. A moment passed and suddenly he heard someone grunt, bump into him, and then the medic was on his ass.
He huffed as he hit the ground, the action slightly disorienting for his tired mind (he didn't even register that it happened until a moment later) before panicked russet eyes flickered up in alarm. "I'm so sorr-" but he was interrupted by a .. shrill.. sultry voice. Church's eyes remained wide, but now out of confusion.. that voice couldn't possibly belong to a man.. and as tired as he was, he'd know if his mind was playing tricks on him. There was something up. "I.. um.." In the glow of the lantern, he studied the other's frustrated face. It was familiar. It was too familiar. It struck a chord somewhere in his brain.. His fingers suddenly dug into the dirt below him. "M-.. Maria?"
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Of course, out of shock the general lowered his head in apology, eyes closed. This was their only medic, the least he could do was be respectful. And for the fact that he himself, was not paying attention. A hand rose up as the other apologies, but quickly lowered as the lantern's flames lit the ground around them, full lips pursing. Well if the general wasn't a woman... He was a really pretty man. A hand coveres the lips as he spoke. Fuck. Oh fuck someone knows. What am she gonna do oh for fuck sakes. There was no way he could let that slip or catch his own fall.. mind was flooded with blurred thoughts until she heard her name. Eyes shot open wide as she looked towards the other, eyebrows gently knitted as hands began to shake. This... this was it. Might as well go with the flow now.
"What?"
Oh.
Oh yeah.
Chocolate colored orbs squinted for a brief moment, she saw that face before, back in New york, in the streets, in shops, around her.... upon further inspection she stared at her eyes, russet. There was only one person she knew who had russet colored eyes. ".....Angelica?" She let out softly, eyes widening with some smile filled with hope and glee. It was easy to see the sheer excitement in the other's body languages, legs could barely keep still as her voice was shaking. "Oh dios mios--" well, at least they were alone on the path and no one could probably hear them, or just probably think they hear two women in their sleep. Yeah, that's perfectly normal. "Chica-- what are you doing here?? I'd never think of seeing you here..!!" It was still said on a low tone, it was weird to see a general taken in by such, sudden exhilaration.
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Guess who is coming back home?
Although short, these were the six 'final' words he would send to her to before going back to NYC within the next week, he didn't tell when nor how he would get there (most likely with the other soldiers, duh). It was around a day or two that he headed home and as soon as his heeled boots entered the city, there begun the hunt to find her. Already there, his height advantaged him quite a lot and despite almost losing an eyen, he could easily differ her from anyone else. Hands and body merged into the crowds in order to move about, pale greys frantically darting around, he had to find her. At first he thought about asking Eliza since he knew the minute Hamilton stepped in the city she would be all over him so he decided to not barge into their intimacy. He had his own awaiting for him. The palaces of paragraphs they shared during the war expressed their eagerness to see each other, to be together. The hamster in his head was overheating from trying to look for her amidst the crowd, the only name on his mind being hers. He had promised so much, of course it was promised and the time made it's course through them, now was the time to make it count.
For a while he stood there, dumbfound. Unable to think, letting people go by and around him as they eyed him carefully, right... Already there he was intimidating looking to some, his hand nervously fiddled with the hilt of his rapier until he felt something ( or in this case, someone) barge into his chest at full force, his air supply being momentarily cut off as he landed ass first onto the pavement. Gilbert was ready to scream and chew off until the other until he picked up the faint yet familiar parfume with arms tightly held around him, that's when his eyes opened.
There she was.
"Angélique, mon amour..!" He cried, feeling all of his anger slip out as he held her tightly against him, head buried in the crook of her neck to remind himself of her, of her love, of her being. They had been separated miles and miles away and where only reunited through letters... and here they were. Together.
Hands were now grounded back to reality as he began stroking her hair, full lips firmly kissing her forehead as he moved some hair away. His reality was here, in his arms. "Ma reine..." he whispered against the dark skinned woman's forehead, eyes fluttering close. Lafayette wasn't really one to care who watched, stared or even tried to pull them apart verbally. He had what he wanted now.
And that was her.
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Today was the day.
Or, well, Angelica hoped it was the day. The only thing that her playfully six-worded letter disclosed was the fact that the Frenchman was alive and returning home soon enough. It didn't give her a time-frame or even a general date though, much to her slight annoyance - thankfully, Eliza received a similar letter from an elated Hamilton declaring he'd be home within the next week and that she'd know exactly when, considering he'd be amongst a huge group of returning soldiers. The eldest Schuyler sister assumed that her fiancé would be coming home the same day as Alexander.
She could only hope, at least. God, the months had passed and passed and passed and she couldn't even fathom how long it'd been since she'd seen Lafayette.. since she spoke to him with her own words, words that weren't scribbled on a piece of parchment and seen weeks after she'd even wrote them.. Sure, she didn't particularly mope over his absence like her sister had done, considering she'd always been a more independent woman anyway (and she was sure that the fact that Eliza had a baby to tend to now definitely had something to do with it too), but not having Laf here had been just as she thought it'd be - grueling and dull and lonely and awful. She spent most nights staring half-liddedly at the empty space on her bed and repeating the promises he made to her in her head until it lolled her to sleep.. dreaming of him returning, of holding her again, of getting married and taking her to his homeplace in France..
But sure enough, in a few days time a sudden burst of commotion in the square brought the two Schuyler sisters from their home and towards the noise. A crowd larger than usual was bustling forward, cries of happiness and confusion filling the air as people reunited or searched for their loved ones. Yes, today was definitely the day.. The two sisters exchanged a look before they briskly started making their way through the crowds - most stepped by if they knew of them, a small advantage of being a Schuyler - looking around frantically for the two men's familiar faces. An eager shout of 'Elizabeth!' made the two women turn their heads, and they instantly spotted the source - the scruffy immigrant grinned wide at the sight and Eliza squealed in delight, taking off towards him. Angelica offered Alexander a grin, but it was obvious it went unnoticed - his eyes were only on one person right now. Understandably. She was about to wait it out and walk over to him as well, but she'd turned her head just slightly enough for something else to catch her eye. Her world slowed around her.
There he was.
In all his glory - he looked dumbfounded, almost, eyes searching thoughtfully amidst the plethora of people brushing by. The surreality of seeing him there, seeing him so close and being so real made her feet feel almost rooted to the ground, made her heart stop in her chest - she could fall in love with him all over again just by looking at him. And then with little to no thought, she was suddenly surging forward, fingers digging into the cloth of her dress as she held it up so she could run towards him - people around her jumped back in alarm and slight confusion but she paid them absolutely no mind. All that she cared about, the only name on her mind, it was him. Each step made her heart race more and more, and soon enough she had practically leaped at him and sent them both down to the pavement below.
The woman wrapped her arms around him as tightly as she could, her face buried in his shoulder. She was practically vibrating in euphoria, holding onto him as if he'd disappear if she'd let go. And once he realized that it was her he was reciprocating and holding her and the feeling of his arms wrapped around her again made her start practically giggling, fingers digging into his coat as he kissed her forehead. "Gilbert.." Her voice was trembling but she knew it wasn't out of anything less than bliss. She moved to cup his face, leaning back to really look at him, blinking frantically as she couldn't help the watery smile that eventually tugged at her features. She started laughing again, blinking through the tears that finally fell as she pulled him forward enough for their lips to finally meet. It was deep and slow and they bumped noses as if this was their first kiss all over again, but the Schuyler languished in every moment of it. Her eyes only opened when they separated, and her smile was still as big as ever. "It's about goddamn time," she finally muttered, nosing against his cheek as she hugged him close again.
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For a moment he was sure he caught a glimpse of Eliza booking it into the distance with the fellow immigrant. She shouldn't be too far, no? Well he was quickly answered to in the most physical way. His fiancée had flown headfirst into him and pin him to the ground which obviously threw him off. He never heard the sound of heels or the heavy breathing, the crowds were such a big distraction. It was to his huge surprise that she had been capable of doing that, then again... Never doubt anyone. Hands stroked at her back when he felt her shake like a leaf as she topped him, a soft giggle left him at she said his name. Angelica was the only one he allowed to call him this way.
A confused look took hold of him as his fiancée reeled back to look at him untils she began.. crying? "Why are you crying-- wAIT-- why are you laughing? Chaton, I don't understand yo--" he was interrupted by lips.. God.. a feeling he had missed for so long.. and here it was, against him, with him. Eyes shut close and hands rested on her hips. Gilbert was far past the point of hiding the fact that he had this thing going with the eldest Schuyler sister. Lips parted to his demise yet let a small sigh of content leave him. "I know, mon ange.."
When nosed into him he went back to stroke her hair as he let shower him in love she had oh so long waited for. Gilbert pulled her away and smiled, finally getting up (and getting certain looks, ah well, who was he to bother?) With her rather tightly in his arm as he took her out of the many crowds. Lafayette craved silence and alone time with her. The man dragged her up a small stairway that led to see the human mass before them. "Angélique..ma belle.. je t'aime.." he whispered, lips beginning to cover her slowly in kisses. "Je t'aime." Another one, he posed on on her palm of her hand and down to her wrist and palm. "Je t'aime je t'aime je t'aime..." as if these were the only two words he knew about when he was around her, suddenly , hands took hold of them and placed a kiss at the tip of the fingers he held; thumbs slowly stroking her palms. When lips were near her hands he smiled, pulling out another ring--this time decorated with a gem that matched her eyes. "Je t'aime au point que je être a tes côtés pendant toute les orages, tout les problèmes..." With a gentle movement he turned her around on the platform. "Let's elope, ma reine."
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Her slight hysterics obviously confused the Frenchman, not that Angelica really blamed him - seeing him again just seemed to make her feel almost everything all at once. And God, feeling his lips against hers, and his hands on her hips, and their breath mingling after they pulled apart, it all felt so delightfully familiar but obviously they'd all been sensations she hadn't been able to indulge in for months. She'd missed him inexplicably. She matched his sigh softly, moving to rest her head in the crook of his neck. She was grinning despite herself, leaning into his hold and nearly melting against the hand gently stroking her hair. It must've looked pretty obscene - a woman like herself latched onto a gentlemen like himself, both still sitting on the pavement while people passed by in rightful confusion. As always, wandering eyes were paid no mind. They'd kept this thing of theirs for secret much too long, who cares who knew now?
Laf moved away from her much to her dismay, though she allowed him to tug her up to her feet and easily enough held onto his arm. She shot him a weary grin as he started tugging her away from the crowds but followed nevertheless. Surely they'd be going somewhere slightly less populated with people - and, as she thought, moments later he was leading her up a small stairway that connected to an overseeing veranda. Russet eyes flickered over the mass of people below them for a moment, but then she was brought back by a kiss to her hand and his soft repeated words.. she couldn't help but smile, turning so she was facing him instead. The mantra of 'I love you's made her heart swell with fondness - maybe for the fact that she hadn't heard him say those words in so long and she'd missed them so goddamn much - she interlocked their fingers and opened her mouth to reciprocate, but then he was pulling out a ring.
It was obvious that it was picked out specifically for her, too - she blinked a few times before breaking out into a huge grin again, his words making her eyes avert to their hands almost bashfully. "You're not wasting any time, are you?" She teased, teetering on her heels. She pulled her left hand out of his, only to hold it out for him to slip the ring on. "Regardless, I'm sure you know my answer already."
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All of this had been missed ever since he was set of to be in the army. Ever since his hands left hers as he joined the thousands of men set off to fight for this nation, ever since eyes parted ways. It hurted. It hurted so bad. She was up when he left, he saw the pain in her face and if he could have took a step back, he would have stayed. But here they were, together. Lafayette laughed rather quietly at her reactions that threw everyone offguard. Then again... so was he. A man of his stature bending to such a woman, well, okay maybe it wasn't that bad. But he did get some looks. But was Gilbert one to care? Not really. He had kept this dead, humble like he was.. Now was past the point of caring.
And here they, on some veranda, quietly enjoying one another, while easy to see, no one really seem to care now. Even if few words were shared, he couldn't help but keep falling in love with her, a hand around her waist, and to him, it was a comfort he had missed for god knows how long. He could see the fondness in her eyes as he repeated his words against her soft hand, pale colored eyes settled on her through thick eyelashes, full lips caressing the delicate hand he held as if it was made out of glass. "I had it import from France, I knew I would come back... and I told you, I am a man of my word.. I remember that night all too well.." he smiled as he saw the fiancée ring on it, Gilbert appreciated the moment, he carefully moved it off and placed it in one his leather pouches. He placed the ring on the same finger, lips placing a kiss on it. "Of course... We'll have to be of extreme carefulness, ma reine.." he whispered, voice low before moving from her hand to lock lips with hers.
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" hi i'm from the future "
" and honestly?? keep your sister away from hamilass he's gonna cheat on her "
" you stay away from him too. "
" also he's gay as fuck, have fun knowing that. "
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" ????? where are your parents "
" i doubt he'd do something like that though!! i mean, i made it pretty clear i'd beat his dumb ass if he even had the thought of hurting 'liza 8) "
" .. i always thought that he had a thing for that laurens guy, shit maybe u right "
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" i dunno?? fighting somewhere. i could care less. "
" but seriously trust me he's gonna cheat on her with some other married woman. don't- don't get involved in that shit. "
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"hi alex told me a lot about u"
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"oh? well, hopefully only good things!"
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"ah! very good things indeed,, you seem like a lovely lady"
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It should have been a fight like all the others.
Due to someone's unruly temperament and incessant nagging it had led to a fully fledged army agaisnt a few soldiers and obviously; retreat was to be put in place. As Lafayette was executioning orders he had noticed someone was missing through all this mass of blue and red... Green...Church? The name lingered at his lips as he stirred Jean around, unable to see him, that is went reins were snapped to go against the fleeing current, teeth gritting, no, he couldn't have lost him in the fight. Out of all people, all soldiers, all men... Not the medic. Hooves were leading him as fast as he could through this colorful mass, he felt his heart heave as he looked around in search for his friend, a french rapier in hand as he found ways to still bend down and attack some of the redcoats. As he finally thought he would make it through the end, something struck at his steed's legs and ejected him from the saddle, he quickly got up and saw the animal just fine, except that out of fear it was dragged away from him. Christ.
Feet pushed him up and he was pretty much on his own, there was no way he wouldn't return with the person in question. When eyes finally met the end he saw what he had been searching.... limp. Eyes widening as he was tossed onto a general, he had the guts to raise his gun to aim it at the man, but something did not sound right after all of this, by a glare from the other he stooped back and lowered his gun. He probably knew Lafayette would attempt to shoot him from afar and turn this bullet against his own will and use the unconscious body on his ride. But feet were beginning to lead him through the open field until arms grabbed him and pulled him away. "Are you mad?! You can't go after them on your own..!" he felt his throat tighten and eventually gave in and followed the current, he was so close, he could have tailed them down, he was trained for that, he could - no, retreat was in order. With a head hung low he let himself run through the others in order to find back his horse (unfortunately, the animal was probably back at the camp by this time).. With luck however, he saw Bramble and frowned, was the animal stuck? He sprinted across the mass and found the animal well... stuck and rather stressed. Church wouldn't appreciate this if his horse was to be in such condition, he drew out his sword and cut through the reins of the animal as they responsible of his emprisonment. As the animal was freed and reared back but as soon as it was back down, feet threw themselves up and kicked at it sides, with the black mane in his hands he guided the animal through, to safety.
The time had finally came for them to arrive back to the camp, he threw himself off and brought him to his own tent and pretty much spoiled it for it's good behavior, for it's patience. But now, he had a medic to retrieve, to save. Now wasn't the time, he had to wait for men to stock in supplies, a blessing he knew where the british were heading. A fort, a fully armed fort. It wasn't the first they assaulted. They already stole canons before, so... with the company of some of his good friends he had planned an assault at night, just a few days later, to surprise the men. As soon as the plan was done he sent the idea across the camp, of course, he was their only medic, and he was still alive... he took hold of his pocket watch and gazed at it as it was opened, a weak smile on his tanned features. He felt not so alone if he had her smile around.. And from that god damned moment, he was sworn to get that medic back, through all meanings.
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This really shouldn't have been different than any other battle.
Granted, it didn't start off in their favor - the numbers were beyond fair, it felt like they had a handful of soldiers going against an entire battalion. Unfortunate as it was, they were going to have to retreat. Church, as always, had been lingering to the back to keep an eye out for any of their men that fell but could still be saved, his messenger bag around his shoulders and a careful eye observing the field. The air was heavy with tension, more so than usual; Bramble kept whinning and rearing back, earning yells of protest and firm yanks on her mane from the medic above. Of course, an omen as it was, he thought nothing of it. Eventually a cry shot up from the very front of the field, somehow audible amongst all the gunfire - Church was moving forward immediately, a blur of blue being knocked off his horse confirming his suspicions that someone was in need of assistance. He fought against the current of fleeing soldiers; he could've sworn he heard someone yell at him to turn around, but he didn't pay any them any mind.
To his confusion though, once he made it to where he thought he'd seen the soldier fall, there was no one there. The horse he'd fallen off was gone, as well as the man himself.. Church shook his head, snapping on his reigns to turn around, but before he could he was suddenly struck in the side of the head with the stock of a musket. Obviously, the collision sent the medic tumbling off his horse, hitting the ground on his back - his vision was blurred from the sharp blow and the wind was knocked out of him almost completely once he'd met the ground below. He didn't have the mind to think to stand (or try to), blinking wildly and trying to comprehend what just happened; there was soldiers still running past, but none of them were bluecoats. Before he was able to come back to his senses, someone grabbed him by his collar and yanked him partially to his feet, an arm locking around his neck and the other holding the front of his jacket. The rough treatment and blurs of red depicted this not being his rescue, and when the medic tried to open his mouth to scream and a cloth was shoved against his face instead, he knew he was fucking doomed. It only took about ten seconds for the man's struggling to cease altogether, and then the world around him faded to black.
When he came to, russet eyes blinked open slowly and observed that he was in a general tent - or, at least, one that was typically designed for a general. It was a more sound structure, it was much darker inside.. there was no furniture of any sorts inside, though. Church attempted to shift, but found he was tied down to a chair. His arms were uncomfortably bound behind it, and his legs were tied around the legs of the chair. If he really wanted to, he could probably sway enough to tip the chair - that didn't seem particularly helpful, though. His messenger bag was no longer around his shoulders and his green coat had been stripped from him, leaving his torso covered by only his undershirt and cravat. Examining the situation, the medic came to the conclusion that he was utterly screwed. His heart drummed in his ears. Escape plan, escape plan, escape plan...
Two men strode in, both wearing sadistic grins and, would you know it, red coats. Church bit down his slight apprehension and sneered back at them.
The thing was, at bootcamp, they put you through trials of torture - especially medics, because, like in this situation, they were targeted easier than soldiers. And since for their scarcity at the time, they were valued; a camp that only had a few medics didn't want to lose one, so they'd be willing to comply to the British's terms for the moment. The only thing different here was that there was only one medic in Washington's camp and he was sitting here. His captors tried playing nice; "If you do as we say, you won't be harmed. If you tell us what we need to know, you'll leave scot-free." Typical. Church firmly kept his mouth shut. And, well.. that's when it started. Compared to boot-camp, experiencing it and being really in danger was an entirely different story. They started 'relatively easy' (their words, not his), but it was still beyond horrendous; cutting tortuously slow lines into his arms and thighs and shoulders with something that felt like a scalpel, getting increasingly deeper and using more pressure when Church still refused to talk. It took about an hour and a half before one of the men grew frustrated, grabbed his musket and slammed the stock against the same spot Church was struck earlier; the force made the chair topple over. Before he slipped into evident unconsciousness, he heard the two grumbling above them and taking their leave.
Church soon realized what they'd meant by starting 'easy', because the pain inflicted got worse and worse by each passing day. Abrasions were easy to maintain; it hurt like hell, but Church had only shifted uncomfortably and kept his eyes shut as they did what they would. It was evident that it'd take more to break him. So they started doing more. The next day was, quite plainly, just trying to beat answers from him. Not being able to fight back hurt more than the blows they threw at him - the taste of blood in his mouth, he found, would soon be commonplace, as well as the feeling of it dried to his lower lip and under his nose. Bruises constantly littered his body. When it still wasn't enough, they moved to the more extreme tactics that were either glossed over in camp or were unknown to the medic altogether; dunking him backwards into water, pressing hot branding irons to places he was already wounded.. The psychological torture was almost the worst; after a while Church didn't even know how long he'd been there. As the assholes above him worked, they'd often mutter empty things to him; "It's been fifteen days now, do you really think they're gonna come for you?" "They don't even know where we are, they've probably given up trying to find you," "I heard Washington's getting another shipment of medics soon - do you think he's gonna care about losing one?" Church didn't know if any of these were false or not; he wanted to believe so, but after days(?) of torment he didn't know anymore. He grew less and less responsive. He submitted to the pain; when they beat him senseless he gave them what they wanted; he screamed and screamed, thrashed about because it hurts it hurts make it stop I want to go home Eliza was right this was an awful idea I'm going to die here because no one's coming for me and I'm never going to see my sisters or my father or my fiance ever again, please God make it end, and honestly it felt like the torment was only continuing because the redcoats thought it was funny to see the medic react so vehemently all of a sudden. He started screaming his throat raw, that by the next day his voice was gone and all he could do was cry out hoarsely and plead mercy. They offered to stop, but only if he'd tell them information. He resisted the urge to puke or sob. And so it continued..
He'd reached the breaking point in terms of responses. Despite what they'd do now, he remained expressionless and silent to the abuse. The most they could rake out was a sharp inhale, but otherwise? There was no signs that the medic was alive except for the heavy rise and fall of his chest and his dull eyes staring down at the ground or in front of him. Obviously, that was no fun to his captors; they left him alone for longer periods. He no longer cried when he was alone or tried to struggle - as if he'd accepted his fate. He was going to die here. Sleep never came easy when he wasn't mentally broken, so the only time he slipped away was when he was knocked unconscious. Before, he'd listened for gunfire and shouts outside in silent hope that it was his men, but now any noise went ignored.
So when the roar of gunshots and British men shouting out sharp orders cut through the evening air, Church didn't even notice.
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The plan was put into action, this wasn't first time they went against this fort, they were so reckless, countless were the attacks they led... But this time they went too far. Medics were in dire need and not only that.. he knew that for some reason, he had to get the man back, so two nights after this incident (he wanted this over rather quickly), men picked up torches and whatnot and hours deep into the night, they found it. He ordered the most agile of his men to put down the guarding milita and once they were in, gates were sneaked open and so the assault began. Lafayette led the troops, there was so mercy, men or not, medics, stable masters, everything, he wanted all of them dead and buried underground to never be seen again. It was a loud stampede, red covered the pure white coat of his horse along with his uniform, well, those were going to be permanent stains. Soon enough he entered the inner walls of the fort and screaming orders to massacre anything that was breathing, and specifically, dressed in red, that's how his vision was. His anger had no description, each man that he encountered had the same bloody fate, he kept his pistols clean, however, he kept them for the general that led this place. Some of them were violently thrown head first into the stone walls, head smashed rapidly at some force that made the skull crack open. Even when the all that remained was a limp body, he continued until it's insides were splattered against the stone and discarded the body. "Find him, by any means. Even if your life is on the line." He spat out in a low tone, make his own men scatter away into the darkness, and so here he was.... on his own. He prefered it that way, at least he was capable of concentrating on his fights and search. Heeled boots clicked against the ground as he dashed throughout the place, causing a ruckus everywhere he went. Hands fiddled with a pouch to his side, grabbing some palm sized balls and tossing them to the ground, creating a thick, smoke cloud that surrounded them (while smoke bombs were only created in 1848, let's fuckin cheat this by saying he had access to successful prototypes) and he continued his mass mutilation upon the enemy.
Soon he finished his part and came out of the walls bruised and beyond blue, his hands were blood red from the mass execution he had drove upon the others. Word reached to him that there was a jail in the lower levels, and chances were that he was held captive there. He called upon Hercules and some other men to join him, his tone of voice was filled with anger and determination as he led the others around, still screaming orders. Canons roared in the distance and damaged the walls, if he had to tear this place down to find her... then so be it. He soon sprinted down to the lower reaches, eyes noticing the powder rooms and grinned. Perfect. That would be of need later... Once he was out, of course. After downing a few men he found a passage way when asking one of the men who were bleeding out. Lafayette, out of sudden sympathy, thanked the man and patted his chest before finishing him off, sure, he was in a fit, blood rage, but some of these men did nothing . Some had been forced to join these armies in order to protect family. And if there was one thing he cherished more than life, it was family, and this medic was part of it. He didn't want this man to suffer any longer, hence putting him out of his misery. Once the door was found he blasted the lock open with the back of a musket and dashed inside. There. The general responsible of all of this was there, waiting for him. "Where is he, I will put you out quick and painless if you drop the keys and hand him over." He growled as he pulled out his pistol but as soon as it was drawn, the man grew to close to him and tackled him backwards, in the heat of the moment he screamed at the others to tail the place down in search of clues. He rolled, tossed and grunted about as he wrestled with the man for what seemed like hours. As time went by, the fight turned into his favor and he topped the british general, taking out his other pistol and forced his mouth open with it, digging the firearm deep within his mouth and fired, blasting organs and meat everywhere around them... including on his clothes... yeah, a new uniform would be required, thank god he had one in wait at his tent. Shakingly, he stood up to recollect his thoughts, revenge was done but this... this wasn't over, one man screamed to him that they found a tightly shut door and it was locked. Gilbert shook his head and hands scattered across the body to find keys, keys open doors... there. He held the heavy set in his hands and dashed down the paved hall, blood was everywhere at this point. The door was without a doubt, guarded. Eyes moved to his free pistol and frowned, looks like he had to go out in the open with one gun armed. With a movement of his hand he motioned at marksmen to shoot two of them down and slid out of his hiding place and took hold of whoever was alive. "What keys open the door to the cell, tell me, tell me now or I swear that will suffer the same torture that was given to any of the prisoners. And trust me... I have my ways to make others talk." He growled as he took hold of a musket once the other was risen from the ground by his collar, the blade end of the firearm gently digging into the coat and piercing the fabric until he saw blood droop all over it. A smile on his face. "Come on, chéri, I don't have all night.."
Soon, even after the information was given, he continuously perforated the other over and over until all the rage he had was slowly diminishing.
When the doors were open, he ordered his men off to prepare the torches and slid inside the humid room, the stench made him grimace for a while until he found what he had been looking for. ".....C-church?!" He screamed, almost out of pure desperation as he sprinted to him and eyed him over, frowning. "Those monsters.... they paid for what they did... hey... hey, its all over now.." he ushered at him, noticing how bad his form was and undid his coat, throwing it on the ground as he freed the other and wrapped him up in the once impeccable coat. Lifting him up bridal style and holding him close to him and.... consciously placed a kiss on his forehead as he fast walked out of the place. As feet led him out of the fort and to his horse he stopped straight after exiting by the main gate, glaring at the men over his shoulder. There was three words that escaped his lips as he got on his horse and prepared himself to head out;
"Burn it down."
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Typically, the jailer sat inside with him to keep an eye on the only current captor (back during the first few days of his imprisonment, Church would talk to him, too. It resulted in a lot of arguments and nine times out of ten getting an additional beating, though in retrospect that was really the medic's fault alone for trying to pick a fight in the first place); however after they'd left they had yet to step back inside. It was unusual. Although it was an acknowledged thing, Church inevitably thought nothing of it. A state of dissociation kept him from questioning much about what was happening outside. A vehement and despairing voice in the back of his mind reminded him that it was likely just his imagination, anyway. The noises faded to a dull and forgotten noise.. he could've sworn he heard familiar voices, like those of men he'd nursed and tended to in the past shouting orders aloud and spreading out but he refused refused refused to get his hopes up again because no, they wouldn't come for him now, it's been so many days since he was captured they would've came sooner if they had cared at all about him, he was an easily replaced pawn in this ridiculous game of chess and he knew that it was just his mind playing games as he deteriorated more and more into an empty and desolate husk of a man (woman?), the sounds around him would stop soon enough and then they'd be back and then the torment would just happen all over again, it never stops it never--
The choked and agonized screams of a man outside of his imprisonment, as well as the following sound of a blade piercing flesh over and over again quieted the medic's thoughts; while he blinked himself more awake, he didn't lift his head. He.. wasn't used to hearing the sounds of mutilation and not being in pain at the same time; either he really was going batshit crazy now or something was amiss. A few moments later, he heard an unlocking noise and then light was flooding the room. Church still didn't lift his head - purely out of instinct, he never gave his tormentors the privilege of eye-contact unless they forced him to (and partially because the action was tiresome anyway) - his name being screamed at him made him flinch hard, as well as the sound of feet rapidly approaching; but it was Laf. God It was Lafayette, no doubt, he didn't even have to look because his voice was all the confirmation he needed. He came for him. But despite the comfort of knowing that he had a rescuer, Church was incapable of accepting it like he probably should've - he flinched sharply at being touched, swallowing thickly as his heart started to pound and still refusing to look up and meet the other's eyes. When he was freed, he made a small noise, immediately collapsing inwards and trying to wrap arms around himself; his shoulders burned from being pinned back for days, and sitting in a forcibly straight position for as long as he did had to be damaging in itself too. Luckily, the general caught him before he could - he was ushering soft words of comfort, but Church wasn't focusing much on exactly what was being said and more so that Laf was here and real and oh my god he was going to make it out of this fucking hellhole alive. His eyes finally snapped up when the Frenchman started to shrug out of his jacket - to say the medic looked like a mess would be an understatement. Bruises bloomed over his throat and jawline, blood was dried to his lower lip and chin and nose, gashes littered his cheeks and his eyes were outlined heavily in dark circles - beyond the unruly curls hanging in front of his face and obscuring most of the damage, the shorter stared up at Laf in the same manner a frightened child would. He watched as the other shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it around him instead. It was huge on Church (and covered in blood that, upon noting that there were no wounds on Laf, was not his own) but he accepted it nonetheless.
A moment later, he was being hoisted in Lafayette's arms. Being moved after so long was disorienting - the world spun. Still not fully grasping into reality, the medic turned his head and buried his face in the general's chest and tried to press as close to him as possible. On one hand, being touched by another person in general right now was dizzying and made Church want to push them away immediately, but on the other he needed the affection, he needed to know he was okay and he was safe and he was going to be fine - he tried not to think about it too hard, eyes shutting as he trembled violently in Laf's arms and tried to adjust to going from being completely gone and empty to feeling everything all at once. Every inch of his body ached. He could feel his lungs burning like he wanted to cry but was holding back. When Laf kissed his forehead, he let out a shaky exhale and gripped into his cravat weakly.
Time passed slowly as they made their way out. He didn't open his eyes to look at the state of the camp; after all, he didn't come in getting to see the camp, why should it be different leaving? It was eerily quiet in the sense that he heard only their soldiers talking - the soldiers that he'd been surrounded with for days on end were assumingly just.. gone, now. Which wasn't a surprise, especially seeing the amount of blood on Lafayette's coat alone. Shifting slightly to be put on Jean made the medic groan softly, and as soon as the other had hopped on too Church wrapped his arms around him from behind and pressed his cheek against the other's back. He couldn't care less about any wandering eyes - if anyone was looking their way, he was sure it was less about the open affection and more so in pity over what he'd come from.
The simple but dark three words that Laf uttered made Church shut his eyes and grimace. The camp would be nothing but ash and would eventually be gone altogether, but he'd still have these scars on both his body and his mind. It was bittersweet. He said nothing and held on a little tighter to the general.
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He could have never been more relieved when he saw the other in the cell, okay, maybe not in this state. What had momentarily shocked the major general is that there had been no reactions until physical contact was made, but despite all of this, arm swooped down to cup him up in order to keep him still. He felt the bruises against his hand and grunted, so much pain in the span of three days... it took exactly three days to get the plan done. Eyes moved to gaze upon the wounds the medic was littered with and sneered, even if sleep would be necessary for his friend ( he saw how sulked in his eyes were from the assumed lack of sleep), his body needed immediate care. As he felt a gaze on him he looked down and saw how horrified the other was and gave him a sympathetic smile. "You're getting out of here, mon ami.." a soft whisper from the Frenchman as he wrapped the other, the jacket was as warm as it was blood soaked from the previous activities. As painful as it was to see the other like this, it was endearing to see the other float in his coat. It was with a doubt that he thought that walking out with him would be impossible, his legs had been restrained for a while now... right? When he finally lifted him up in order to carry him to safety, eyes pitched down to look at the other tried to bury himself in the Frenchman's chest and as the other was trembling like a madman. "If you need to let any emotion out, go ahead, you are allowed." He mumbled after kissing his forehead, it was his job in some way, to make sure that the medic was safe now, well, maybe from others but in this moment; he knew that being safe from himself was impossible. Lafayette gladly let the other cling to him like a child, it... It was the least he could do now.
Torches and other sources of fire lit his face as they walked out through this massacre, most men were talking about pillaging the place and take the supplies; no one was going to use them anyway, right? A small troop of men ran up to the man in command and asked him about it, his only answer was a low 'make it quick' before continuing his path, some of them were simply resting after such a right, some mourned.. He let them do such a thing since his priorities were elsewhere, they were pretty much about taking the medic back to the camp and tending to him. When the time came to get on his horse he felt weak arms, head turning back to him with a soft gaze. A hand moved up to take hold of his before kicking the sides of his steed and proceeded to ride off into the night with some other soldiers. As they came up to reach a small hillside he jerked the reins and made Jean turn to it's side, watching as the fires easily engulfed the raided fort, eyes remained on it for a while, there was so signs of guilt or pain in his expression, only a grim, darkened gaze that was barely lit by the far away flames. When he felt the other's grip tighten he knew it was time to go and rode through the moonlit fields ahead of them, it was a different path than the one Church had been dragged on, the sound of hooves and whispers reigned through the silence of the night, his hand was carefully rubbing over the ones clasped over his torso, a wistful gaze piercing through the darkness around them as eyes got used to the dark.
Soon, they reached the once familiar camp they met in before and stopped by the medic's tent and looked behind. "I'll get some supplies for your gashes and all, stay here.." he whispered as he slowly jumped off the white robed animal and motioned his men to stay close, most of them nodded and trotted to the once prisoner's sides, staying their stance firm as Lafayette lit a lantern to fetch some supplies and stuffing them in some spare medical bag, from the corner of his eyes he noticed a locket, huh, obviously was the medic's. Fingers delicately picked it up and eyed it over; but decided to not try in it as he saw it could be opened. When his task was finally done he threw the bag over his shoulder and pushed himself out of the tent and got back on the horse, waiting for the other to wrap around him again and sent his men off, thanking them for the escort and to rest well. It was only them now. With a slow pace he trotted back to his tent and with joy, Bramble was still there and as soon as they approached and whistled softly, a hand reaching to gently stroke her muzzle as he got off. "Good girl.." he whispered, scratching the underside of her chin as she nudged him softly. Hands reached over to get the exhausted man off his own horse and carried him to the tent. There was no light in Washington's tent, he must have fell asleep. With a smile he delicately put him on his bed and removed the bag from his shoulder. "Here... you're safe now, nothing can hurt you." He whispered against his forehead before kissing it once he moved hair away. He grabbed the bag and proceeded to clean off the dried blood with a delicate touch, pale colored eyes that contrasted with his skin looking down to his face. "I'll let you stay here until everything calms down, if you don't want to stay... It's perfectly understandable." He added with a smile, he knew the other wasn't in the best of health, both physically and mentally. Sadly he had to remove the coats he had over him to continue his work, not even minding the bandages around his chest. He assumed it was a gash they actually cared about taking care of. "Putain..." he whispered at how deep some were. A confused yet somehow relaxed chuckle left him. "Mon ami, you certainly are tough... I am immensely proud of you in a way, for three days.. You have gone through this.." he whispered to him and gently rubbed his cheek in comfort.
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Amongst small chatter, Church absently heard the men around them discussing raiding the rest of the camp for supplies. It'd make sense, considering no one would be around to use them now (and they needed more supplies back at their own camp anyway - Congress was being greedy with it's exports lately). At least one good thing would come from all of this. Once on Laf's horse, he could feel the other take hold of his hand. The gesture, small as it was, was appreciated; Church squeezed his hand weakly. Once they were moving again, he made sure to keep a hold on the general so he wouldn't doze suddenly and fall off the horse - that was quite literally the last thing anyone needed right now. When Jean stopped, the medic blinked slowly and turned his head towards whatever it was that Laf was looking at.. and sure enough, they were standing atop a hill side in perfect view of the camp, which was now being engulfed in flames. And.. to say he felt nothing would be somewhat of a lie. In terms of the structures and possibly the remaining men inside, he had no guilt or remorse.. more or less, he felt perhaps melancholic that the place that just left a permanent mark on his, on Angelica's life would be just.. gone. Like that. Not even a trace to show for what they'd endured. When he suddenly forced his gaze away and tightened his hold on Lafayette, he was thankful that the other took the hint to leave.
It didn't take long to return to their camp, granted that Church wasn't paying much to the journey back. He occasionally squeezed Laf's hand or rubbed his thumb along the other's wrist in silent reaffirmation that he was real, he was taking the medic back and he was going to be safe again. With all the excitement over, the medic could feel exhaustion seeping from his bones - he just wanted to crawl into his tent and into bed and probably have an existential crisis until it put him to sleep, but he knew that it was in his best interest to at least get his wounds tended to first. The general eventually hopped off of his horse to go grab some supplies from the medical tent, much to Church's chagrin to have to hold himself up for a moment. He blinked sleepily, ignoring the probably concerned looks from the soldiers at his sides (he could've sworn he heard one mumble about the possibility that he was mute now, which was laughable - he really hadn't spoken yet since his rescue, had he?). It only took a moment for Laf to arrive, and once he did he dismissed the other men for the night. The medic watched them go through half-lidded eyes; he wanted to say thank you or something towards their efforts of removing him from that camp, though supposed such could wait until sometime tomorrow.
Laf's tent was too far away from where they'd been, so it only took a couple minutes before they were standing outside of it. The first thing the shorter man noticed was his horse - she whinnied upon seeing him again, and despite himself the corners of his mouth twitched up and he reached out to scratch underneath her chin. He was glad to see she was alright - he had nearly forgotten that his last moments before he was snatched was being tossed gracelessly from her saddle. He made a mental note to thank Laf later for tending to her in his absence. He had.. a lot to thank the other for in all honesty. When he was lifted off of Jean again he was snapped from his thoughts, lying still in the general's arms until he was taken inside of the tent and sat down on the bed. The way he had to be handled so delicately was somewhat degrading in itself, though he knew any rougher of treatment would probably be painful at the current moment. Still. He blinked up owlishly at Laf when he grinned and ushered more comforting words, this time flushing a tad when his hair was pushed back enough so the other could kiss his forehead. He leaned a little in the touch, blinking down towards the ground and scuffing his feet against the dirt. He missed this a lot more than he liked to admit. When Laf began to clean at his wounds though, he reacted in the opposite sense, hissing quietly under his breath and gripping at the sheets of the bed as he resisted the urge to lean away. He'd much rather tend to his own injuries (and likely would tomorrow while everyone else was busy with drill - he knew of a few gashes that'd he needed to stitch and dress properly so they'd heal correctly) because having them be touched by another person right now filled him with an inexplicable sense of dread, even despite the person being someone he trusted with his whole life - it was no one's fault but the people responsible, sure, but he was sure that this was slightly more painful than it should be because he kept tensing up and biting down on his lip whenever the other started cleaning one of the more deeper wounds. Still, he said nothing.
Once it was done, Church sighed softly and rubbed gingerly at his forearms. He felt weirdly exposed without a jacket or undershirt on, though considering that the general had made no comment about the bandages binding his chest, he had thought nothing of it. Which was good - the medic didn't plan on putting the items back on, considering that now that his wounds were clean they were much more sensitive to the touch. He was thankful it wasn't too cold of a night tonight. His gaze had shifted down again thoughtlessly, though it flickered back up at the soft touch to his cheek. At first, he offered the faintest tired grin; though once Laf's words sunk in, his grin dropped almost immediately and his eyes widened. Wait. Wait. "That.. no, that can't.." His voice sounded nearly twice as hoarse as it usually did and cracked easily from its lack of use. The medic suddenly pulled back from the Frenchman's touch, blinking down in confusion and slight horror at his hands as if they'd give him the answers he was looking for. They woke me up every morning, and they definitely woke me up more than three times.. He used to keep track of every time they strolled in and woke him up for another day of torment, but he lost track at around seventeen. His mouth opened and he furrowed his brow, blinking slowly before glancing back up at Laf. "..I was there longer than that," he insisted quietly. But then he nipped on his lower lip and shrunk down slightly after a moment. "are.. are you sure?"
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He had noticed the weak smile on his companion's face when he had noticed how well his horse was. "She was so stressed on the field, her reins were stuck under a canon's wheel, figured she ran in fear and got stuck there, unfortunately I had to cut through it, I have spare reins so I'll let you have them... it's the least I can do.." he explained as he got the other off of Jean and transported him into a familiar tent. When big eyes stared up at him he snickered into the kiss, it was endearing, to say the least, but it was good that he wasn't flinching away at his actions, and even better when the he felt his friend's forehead press against his lips. But when it came to clean him up he noticed the other's almost animalistic reactions. "Je suis tellement désolé... Mais je dois le faire.." he whispered, knowing that even if he was skilled at medical stuff and cleaning wounds, no one was built the same. From time to time he stopped to let the other recollect their thoughts, knowing how it stung when it came to deeper cuts. Truth is, he felt bad doing this, knowing how he went through a lot and perhaps in his mind; this was a form of torture. As he was finished he stood back and threw the stuff away, sighing. "Here, all done... the rest can be done by your own will.." he stated at the other male before waiting for any physical reaction, he thought about offering him something to cover himself but he decided to not do so. When he saw the other grin he chuckled, only to blink mindlessly and hear his hoarse voice.
The man stood back a bit, and reached to grab some paperwork he had left scattered as the other mumbled. "Non, non.. listen.. On Tuesday the 21st, the revolutionist camp in Brandywine had lost their only medic, Church Barker, in action. It is reported that witnesses such as me, Major General Lafayette along with other troops, have caught a glimpse of one of the enemy's general with them on their horse, unconscious. While the plan was to immediately send regards to their parents, the Major General refused this command and rallied troops to raid the fort that held him. It wad only on Friday the 24st, at night, that the assault will be held. Chances of success are unknown, but in hopes that our most favored and excellent medic is still there.
-Marquis de La Fayette.... see?" He handed the papers over, some of them were unfinished letters of apology as he thought that he had been killed, it was... just in case. "The British have... rather sadistic ways to torture prisoners... In the dark and in pain, you lose track of time... did you really think that I, Gilbert, would let someone like you down? You're thinking about the wrong Frenchman, mon cher ami. I let no one left behind, I always come back.... one way, or another." he mentioned as he leaned down and pressed a delicate kiss to the other's lips as he cupped his cheeks, smiling as he pulled away. "You must be terribly exhausted but... here, I found this under your table, had to polish it a bit, dirt was encrusted in it's details.." he trailed as he held out a locket to him, head tilted. "I didn't pry it open, since it is not mine, figured out it was yours, perhaps?" Lafayette added before putting it next to him, hand sliding under a box and grabbed some bottle, popping it open as he chugged some of it down, alcohol, one should assume it after such mass murdered, slight guilt had taken hold of him with time. "While some deserved to die... some of these men clearly didn't have their places there... But trust me, the one who was responsible of this paid well, he was a tough nut to crack but, I had the best of him.." he hummed as he slouched down on his chair.
After swirling the liquid around in the dark colored glass bottle he looked over to Church, blinking for a few moments. "I know this may not seem like the time but are you hungry...? Maybe need something to drink, too? If you only wish to rest I perfectly understand." Gilbert was rather worried and didn't really know how they handled the other back there, except torturing him... he turned over to finally finish the paperwork after they were returned to him. Adding to the main entry; with great success, our medic was returned to camp within a matter of time, a few hours before dawn, I will ensure that they make it out of this war alive. No matter what the risks are. Understanding of this situation, they are rather quiet but capable of answering to questions.. He slid the papers into some sort of portfolio and closed it, discarding it across his table as he cleaned his workspace a bit, head resting on the wooden surface, pale colored eyes moved to look at the other. "Rest, you need it, you can have my bed of the night, this isn't the first time I fall asleep here." He mumbled as hands fidgeted down to his coat and pulled out his pocket watch, popping it open to gaze at the time, perhaps Washington would dismiss him until noon given this assault, it would give him time to list up the newfound supplies and tend to Jean and Bramble.
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Church remained wide-eyed and unmoving as he watched Laf stand up and walk to his desk, and even as he started reading the paperwork out loud to him. All the little details flew completely over his head - he listened only for the dates. He was taken on the 21st. And then he was.. he was returned on the 24th. Three days. It had been just three days. He'd only been captured and in imprisonment for three days. That couldn't be right.. He hadn't realized he was slightly trembling again until Laf had handed over the paperwork and he was trying to read it, eyes scanning over the words quickly. Sure enough, it was all here in writing. He felt sick. While there was also a half-written draft to his 'parents' about his capture, it was clearly unfinished because they left so soon to retrieve him. He hadn't been gone for long at all.. but that entire time he was there, they'd manage to convince him he'd been missing in action for much much longer than he'd actually been, made him think no one was going to come for him at all.. and they broke him so easily. It was so goddamn laughable. It'd really been in his head that whole time.. Of course it was stupid of him to lose hope, why wouldn't Laf come for him? After everything they'd been through?..
It took the soft kiss to his lips to bring him back again, despite not being able to reciprocate it. He blinked up at Lafayette when he pulled away, still looking to be in a slight state of disbelief over this new information. But after a moment he heaved a shaky sigh, shaking his head slowly as he handed all the papers back to the general. He had so many goddamned factors to cope with, another one probably wouldn't kill him at this point. He blinked back up when Laf was handing him something else, russet eyes falling to it. His locket - shit, he must've dropped that sometime during his capture. Momentarily, the man panicked, but then the other insisted that he hadn't looked inside and inwardly Church sighed out of relief. How awkward it'd be for him to open it and see a tiny painting of the Schuyler sisters. That'd definitely prompt a conversation that Church was really not ready to have at the moment. "Thank you," he murmured, taking the locket and quickly tucking it away in his trouser pocket. He wondered how they'd react to knowing what happened to him.. surely such information wouldn't be revealed until his return home, though. He made a mental note to write to Eliza sometime tomorrow - he needed some sense of normality after all of this shit.
The medic glanced back up at the sound of a bottle popping open, and he watched Laf curiously for a moment before his eyes saddened some in realization and he glanced away instead. Right. As brutal as the Frenchman was, he absolutely still had empathy and probably felt something after what went down on that British campground. Church hadn't seen the damage for himself, but considering there was no one around to stop them from strolling out, he could only assume it'd been bad. He nodded softly at the other's words. He only knew of a few of the soldiers in there that committed the acts towards him and of the general who kidnapped him to begin with, but otherwise had no idea who anyone else in the camp had been. For all he'd known, not everyone there probably even knew they'd captured an American medic and was trying to torture him for information. Momentarily, guilt tugged at his heart for being the one in the center of it all, being technically responsible for the deaths of all those men, though inevitably he knew it was the general who decided to fuck with Washington's camp and snatch a medic from him when they were so desperately lacking.
Church didn't glance back at Laf until the other man asked him if he wanted anything, to which the medic meekly shook his head. He felt nauseous, likely from all the excitement of tonight, and didn't want to make himself ill on top of being as injured as he was. The thought of taking the other's bottle crossed his mind for a split second, though that was probably not what Laf meant when he said 'something to drink'. He'd laugh at the thought if he had the energy. "I'm exhausted, sir," he muttered honestly, rubbing at his eyes. He didn't necessarily want to return to his own tent though- thankfully the other man offered his bed before he had the chance to stand up. As thankful as he was, the medic blinked slowly at Laf when he made a comment about sleeping at his desk and laid his head down on the surface. As tired and drained as he was, he made a point to furrow his brows and look ill-amused, scooting over and simply staring back at the other until he took the hint. When he didn't move right away, Church patted the spot on the bed next to him a few times.
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"No problem, I was thinking you would perhaps need a good sight for sore eyes.." he replied with a wave of his hand, personally, having the ring and pocket watch neat him kept him grounded and concentrated on his service for the army. As he finished the sip of his drink he noticed the saddened look. "Like on our side, a lot of these men aren't to belong in such a zone, I am not much of a believer but I will personally pray for the one british soldier that helped me find you in his last moments.." he mumbled as eyes stared deep into the bottle of the glass, though barely lit by the lantern now on his desk. As the other meekly shook his head he nodded quietly and put the bottle aside, alcohol probably wouldn't be good on an empty stomach, especially after... this. When it came to Church, he saw the thankfulness in his eyes and tiredly smiled, eyes fluttering close until well... He felt something pat at the bed.. It took a few moments to get an answer out of him, one... Two, three times were required for him to finally get up.
With a small twist of his torso he turned around to extinguish the lantern, darkness filling in the room. Momentarily, the Frenchman had to squint as his eyes were no longer used to the dark, and he stumbled his way to the bed. As hands finally felt the temporary bed he smiled and sat down, feet kicking away his boots before laying on his back for a few... then his side, back to him.. And after a few more shifting he felt a surprisingly delicate hand reach for his back, making him flinch and have his head turn to look at him; eyes capable of making out forms in the darkness... And he soon turned to face him, chest moving about at a slow pace as his mind eased down. Upon belief the other snuggled up to the general, back tensing a bit, well, ever since he got him out of the fort, he had been awfully affectionate. Perhaps that right now, a touch with reality during his sleep was entirely necessary. Shyly, an arm barely caressed along his skin, mostly aiming for unmarked spots so he could hold onto him. It was but a gentle hold, enough to signal the other that he was present and wouldn't let him alone for tonight. His other arm snuck under the pillow and curved up under Church's head, fingers soon finding themselves to stroke at the curly hair, yet again, the feeling of déjà vu hit him again and his breath caught up in his throat, tensing lightly. As much as he was glad to let his companion feel secure, it was chewing at him at how desperate he seemed to be for such comfort and touch. He felt stupid at his mind and sick to his guts when such contact was made or even thoughts were about him. But Lafayette, despite being honest, always kept things dead quiet until someone were to find out.
Sleep had soon taking hold of him after a good fifteen minutes of forcing himself to stay awake to make sure the other feel asleep. Eyelids had grown heavy and off he went. His mind had remained blank for a long time now but as his body unconsciously felt Church move against him it seemed to trigger images and thoughts in his mind; home, Angelica... he frowned in his sleep, not really used to the use of such images. War, tears, hands reaching out for him... Body tensed up for a few, a soft wheeze leaving him. Blood formed at his hands, and it was his own... Can't stop the bleeding what am I going to do fucking hell someone help what am I to do there's no one around noonearoundnoonearound-. Eyes shot wide open and felt tears well up and stain the pillow, he didn't fear death. No, never. What he did fear is break a heart he was trying to fix. His face held no expression, all that there was coming out of him was the water dripping away from his orbs, the pale colored eyes becoming somewhat dull, and he his mind felt numb. Fortunately dawn had seemed to take over, he was glad because frankly, he didn't want to go back to sleep now.
Hands slowly pushed himself up from his bed after moving the other away from him, replacing his form with his coat and weakily smiled as the medic immediately clung to it like a child. Quietly, he changed and slipped into his new uniform, hands patting around to notice the lack of his watch... It was in the other coat, obviously. After sneaking it out of his coat he headed outside, in need of fresh air, the orbs of the man still dull until he felt something stumble up from the ground and nudge at him, both of the horses seemed to have noticed his inquiry. Gilbert's head slowly moved back against the horse of the medic (who seemed to have grown fond of him and wouldn't stop rubbing against the general) eyes half lidded as he patted the side of it's neck. "Bonne fille...tu es une bonne fille, oui.." he mumbled into his dark robe as he watched the sunrise crown the fading, darkened skies that envelopped the land, a few men were already up, not like he bothered, they were used to wake up early.... and so seemed someone as well as he felt sounds from the tent. Heels turned his form around and he stepped in, noticing the medic looking at him with tired, weary eyes. "I wouldn't stray too far, you know me.."
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Thankfully it didn't take much convincing from Church to get the general to submit and move from his place at his desk. Russet eyes watched as the man shifted to extinguish the lantern, the dying embers quickly reducing the tent to darkness - the medic blinked several times (his eyes adjusted a lot quicker than he would've liked though, a lot quicker than they probably should've.. the thought made him slightly sick again), the comforting dip of the bed when Laf sat down being somewhat comforting. For a while, he remained silent, staring past the form lying next to him and towards the mostly closed entrance of the tent - his mind was surprisingly quiet, though he figured as much would happen after the kind of evening he'd endured. He felt drowsy, but still too unsettled to sleep.. shifting from the man at his side made him look back towards him though, a soft frown tugging at his lips as he watched him try to get comfortable. It was.. familiar, somehow. It made his heart ache in some sense, but he swallowed it down, a tentative hand reaching out and gently touching Lafayette's back in a silent request for him to relax. It prompted him to turn around - instinctively, Church scooted a little closer to his general's chest. Partially to get him to lie still, but.. also for the comfort. Quiet mind or not, he still found himself slightly detached from reality and needed some sort of grounding to even think about falling asleep. Luckily, Laf at least didn't seem to mind. The gentle and slightly shy touch to his side made him tense for maybe just a second before he relaxed again - likewise when feeling an arm sneak under his head and fingers gently stroking his currently disheveled hair. The contact was appreciated though, and after loosely wrapping his arms around Laf he felt himself dozing off..
In contrast, Church could say he remained pretty much dreamless - or, if he dreamed of anything, it had been insignificant enough to forget before he woke up. Maybe the universe was pitying him just this once.. nevertheless, he was goddamn grateful for it. He'd much rather be plagued with nightmares when he was mentally capable of handling them (and maybe not sleeping with someone else close by). The most he did was shift occasionally through the night, grimacing through sleep when he moved against a bruise or gash. Otherwise, he remained mostly still and quiet.. the only thing able to get his attention being the absence of the body next to him and the slight specks of morning light shining into the tent. He made a small discomforted noise and frowned in his sleep, curling in on himself a little once Laf moved away - the coat sated him for the time being however. He clung to the fabric, tugging it over himself and curling up a little more so his entire body was hidden underneath it.
He woke up for real a few minutes later though, eyes blinking up blearily at the ceiling of the tent. He felt.. sore. Which wasn't terrible. There were definitely worse states to wake up in. If anything, it was more of a sign that he was healing, right? Upon sitting up though, he groaned softly and shut his eyes tight at a few sudden sparks of pain - shit, right, he still needed to patch up a few things. He should probably go do that soon.. and while he still felt pretty nauseated, he was pretty sure that was from not eating more than anything else. The 'male's fingers ran gingerly along the fabric of the coat still draped over him, and after a moment he picked it up off his lap and tugged it around him instead. With its current state, he was sure Laf had already received a new one.. he surely wouldn't mind if he held onto this for a bit, right?.. The sleeves pretty much covered his hands and even with it buttoned up his collarbone was more than visible, so it held no practical use obviously.. but the way it fitted around him just felt.. right. He couldn't really explain it.
The entrance of the tent opened again, and Church glanced over. Sure enough, it was his general. His words made the medic simply shake his head dismissively. "I know," he mumbled groggily, quietly covering his mouth in his hands as he yawned. Scooting off the bed, he stood up (barely - he nearly fell right on his face, but he wasn't sure what else he'd been expecting after not walking for nearly four days now). Just as he thought, Laf was wearing a new coat similar to the one currently draped over his own shoulders, so he didn't feel as awkward adjusting himself in the clothing. After another moment of scrubbing at his eyes and growling obscenities to himself about how it was too early, he sighed gently and took a few steps away from the bed. "I really ought to go talk to Washington, tell him I'm alright, see what I missed.." he yawned again. "Eat something so I don't die. Stitch this shitty body of mine back together. Y'know." He sounded closer to normal, but in the same sense it sounded a bit strained too. One step at a time. "And you have to direct drill soon anyway - mustn't distract you and make you late," he stopped in front of Laf, the tired and slightly composed look on his face dropping as he had that almost owlish look on his face again. He parted his lips, closed them, opened them again a moment later. "..I owe you my life," he started, voice completely serious but sounding significantly softer than before. "I.. I really thought I was going to die back there. You could've easily saved your efforts, your mens' efforts, gotten someone else and just.. let them tire of me but.." It shouldn't have been as hard as it was to speak, but every time he looked up and caught Laf's eye again he found it more difficult to do so.
The sudden temptation to confess burned in his chest.
Angelica wasn't sure why it hit her so hard all of a sudden, but it did. Seeing the way he looked at her so fondly made her forget herself, forget the person she was trying to portray, and after everything she went through, she wanted the other's affections to be towards her, not a facade she was hiding behind. Having him hold her and kiss her but those actions not truly being towards her and being towards Church was killing her more and more every time, and how fucking easy it'd be to just tug her hair out of the messy ponytail it was in and talk in her voice instead of this one. But in the same sense.. doing so would have a plethora of consequences. Laf would be inexplicably mortified over everything that'd she'd endured, he'd probably break down at just the thought. And then he'd do something rash - he'd probably try to take her out of this, try to run from the war and take her home, which was not only against her sole purpose of coming in the first place, but his sole purpose of coming to America to begin with. She couldn't.
The confession died in his throat just as quickly as the thought of it occurred. He offered a small, trying grin. ".. Thank you," he muttered, voice hardly above a whisper. Although hesitant, he reached out for Laf's wrist and turned it so his hand was facing outward, before pulling up and pressing his lips to the other man's palm. Even after he'd pulled away slightly, he still held onto the general's wrist for a few more seconds and remained close enough that his fingers were still in distance with the medic's cheek.. I could tell him, I could tell him everything right now, she thought, but then she - he - let go of Laf and turned his eyes back up to look at him. "I'll come get Bramble later after I take care of a few things." And with that, he stepped past the other and through the flaps of the tent. Before either of them did anything they'd regret. Out of practice he was able to easily ignore the way his heart ached.
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Pale, grey eyes seemed to regain color with time, and seeing the medic up was somewhat reassuring, at least he still was able to get up (although with lots of struggle). He felt himself obliged to keep an eye out on the medic since he let him get caught, it was his fault. Now, he wasn't much of an anxious man but... He could have avoided this, Church would have been okay if it wasn't for himself always being at the front-- he should have been in the back it's his fault if his friend suffered his fault his fault his faulthisfaultfaultfaultfault-- he was momentarily shaking, as of lately, thoughts of failure and problems easily invaded his mind, it couldn't be kept still. But in all of this, it was Church's voice that wrought him back to reality, eyes opening wide for a few seconds before gaze rested on him. "Ch....church..." he mumbled, his voice was low, part of him felt like this was a dream with a never-ending cycle of pain. "O....Oui of course.. of course.. bien sure... Although you haven't missed much..." why did he feel like he was unable to move? His body was one with the ground below him, all he could do is watch Church limp to him and talk. Move, Gilbert - do something. " Church - your body is not... how you say.. merdique? You're tough and...." his voice trailed off as the other approached him. "I can have someone do it - " he stopped, now wasn't the time to get in an argument with him, he could see the sheer tiredness in his friend's eyes. ".... alright, I'll obliged to that.."
Eyes closed in regret and thoughts swelled over again, his breath hitched in the back of his throat, stay calm, damn it. "There's no need to thank me, no men is left behin - " he seemed to calm down until lips grazed over his wrist, the remaining air in him left, a look of shock. Even if it was far in his mind, for a brief moment he saw Angelica in front of him. It was like a vivid memory, he could practially feel the curls of her loose hair tickle against the tip of his fingers, how her touch was of an infinite delicateness, how... vivid... it felt like an illusion, a mirror, something he wanted to touch but there was a barrier. Free hand covered his mouth in order to stop a strained sob from leaving his mouth. It pained, it was like a dull knife in his heart and it kept twisting into the flesh and even if removed, he felt like it was there, deeper into him. A part of him wanted to break down right in front of the medic's feet and pour his heart out at him, eyes already watering. Shit. Shit not now no nononono-, he felt himself go overboard once more, Lafayette forces his emotions down as the other looked up, his eyes unfortunately, were red. "I need to rein her a bit, she has grown restless with time, wouldn't want you to get even more.. hurt.." he trailed off as the other moved away and stepped out.
Soon after the medic was gone he got the reins of his own horse out (well, the spare he had for Jean), and headed out, while Jean was across the floor, seeming to enjoy the morning sun.. Bramble was up and whinning about, hooves stomping into the ground. "I know I know, he's back.. He's alright.." he whispered as he guided the horse with the reins and slid it over and through his head, eyes half lidded and a soft giggle left him as he was nudged. "Mon Dieu, you're so pushy... relax.." Lafayette quietly moved away the horse'a muzzle away from him before settling himself on it's back and feet pressed at it's sides to move the animal out. For a few minutes he walked it around the main road that led out, few of the men who were already awake saluating him before he exited the camp.. well... not really, there was the outskirts were carriages and canons were out, the ones from last night. But up ahead there was a small wooded area that was perfect for trotting and such. Grass and small branches snapped under the massive animal's hooves as it trotted through the grounds surrounding them. It was comfortable, to say the least. And it seemed to help Bramble as well, she was easy to maneuver now. With a smile he had her stopped for a few, leaving her to momentarily rest as he strokes her neck... He himself, felt rested now, all anxiety had left him. But time ran short, and he had to back to camp to order men and finalize some other things. So a gallop was in order, obviously he started by trotting and soon after, a swift kick (not too harsh, though, this is a horse not a redcoat) to the sides made the horse sprint through the grassy, wooded area until eyes met the camp. On due time, he was off of Bramble who seemed rather thankful and he tossed an apple her way, snickering as Jean, still down on the ground, tried to lazily reach for it. "Espèce de gloutton.." he softly scolded at him before tossing another apple. Feet soon led him to his men who were all over the place, he cleared his throat and merely began to scream off the orders for the day, wanting this to be done so he could get to his things.
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Do you think I could actually slay someone with a baguette?
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i think that you can do anything that you set your mind to
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....... true but
That's murder
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can i be ur mind at work, work
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sorry sir, u gotta have opinions to be my mind at work, work
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my opinion is that ur hot
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opinions that are closer to facts about my appearance aren't what i had in mind, but shit thanks
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when will u return from the war
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whenever u stop acting like a pussy ass bitch
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this isn't even fair you're the one who looks disturbingly like him not me
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You see an expensive-looking pink floral journal lying on the ground. Upon picking it up and opening it, you can see the front page says in neatly written cursive writing, " property of angelica schuyler. " It's in your best interest not to snoop through, but..
this thread is for ic drabbles. feel free to reply to the separate entries or leave a note for my muse !! please don't leave roleplay prompts here, though.
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{🗼} A fine, elegant and smooth text is written on a blank page, seems like the author wasn't contented with less than that.
Ma chère Angelique,
As you might already know who is the author of this text, I have thought that writing down my thoughts would have been a stronger reminder... The brain after all, is a muscle that needs to be trained. It might have been but less than a year, but it was in these moments that your smile, your laughter, your beauty, your brilliance has kept this love for you blooming like rose of the purest whites... It is a love I couldn't trade for anything. It is so pure, so devoted, so rich... No wealth in the world could make me change my mind, your smile is without a doubt, priceless. Such love has brought me days of comfort, days I never thought I would get to share with someone. I am glad that they were to be shared (and still are) with you, a woman I never thought capable of sweeping my feet off the ground and make me ever so tender. Your grace, your intelligence, your touch has brought me to this. In hopes that one day, you are to be my Marquise.
Ever yours, Marquis de La Fayette.
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