It sort of just -- happened.
Romance wasn’t her forte. Intoxicated flirting and impulsive touches were rare, even when she had been with York, and general acts of affection seemed, to most, to be platonic at best. She’d been accustomed to treating everyone she considered close, or family, or friend, or some combination of any of them, with a kind of rough friendliness - elbows meeting the sides of stomachs, shoulders bumping ( rather harshly ) against others, and loud, hearty laughs took more precedence over the more effeminate, more flirtatious stream of giggling. So, then, it must have come as a surprise to others, and most especially to herself, when a shyer, more softer version of her laugh came to ring past her lips, and when hard nudges became replaced by the softest brush of gloved fingers against his, and when she found herself looking forward to spending the odd afternoon talking of literature and poetry and quotes that may, or may not, have been said by Shakespeare.
Doyle had been a friend for a while, now. Carolina’s affiliation with either half of the joined forces of Chorus had been a recent development, though undeniably she had proven her value easily and quickly. Her drive was personal, the strength and conviction that it fueled admirable and respected -- what with the many scars that so defined it. She took the reigns as if they were made for her, and arguably, they might be. She had long been very private about everything about herself -- perhaps to many in Chorus she was but a figure, a legend, even. Bar Epsilon, perhaps it was only Washington who truly understood the suffering that was so heavily guarded by careful words and heavy privacy. But Doyle -- Doyle, whose friendship with Carolina was undoubtedly recent, had earned not only Carolina’s trust, but also her sympathy.
Carolina quickly found herself confiding in the other more and more, words spilling from her lips in ways not even Washington had heard. She told Doyle of things many had already guessed, and explained to him things that no one would have suspected. Each afternoon spent with him had been an exchange of stories and insecurities and comfort -- and perhaps it was the development of that that had sparked such an unfamiliar interest in him. It had been a long, long while since she had felt so -- comfortable around anyone. But when her actions towards him had become gentler, when her voice began to soften and her attention increasingly becoming more focused on him, she made no complaint. It was a gentle feeling, and with all the hardness she had had to endure for so long -- she deserved gentleness.
But even with such a long and inconspicuous process, no one would have figured the former-freelancer to have found such solace and comfort in General Doyle, of all people. Many had figured she would be with Washington, and there had been rumors that Kimball had sparked her interest. General Doyle and Carolina? No one would have seen it coming. And especially not them either. So it must have been quite an experience when helmets had been taken off for the evening, and when rouged lips met with the general’s left cheek for a fraction of a second; It was only a brush, and it was only impulsive, much like many things that involved the freelancer, but it must have sparked quite the talk amongst soldiers when they had found the general sporting a curious smudge of red on his cheekbone.
2087
germansingergirl
jbbartram-illu
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