03-28-2022, 04:45 PM
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a
THE TIRED SOLDIER
[b][i]bernard smith. edmund lingering still made the war vet nervous. his gaze kept flickering up to look at him before looking down to make sure that the mixture was going into the pan. he smiled, seeming to forget that edmund was there for a time being. he was soft, much more soft than he would have liked, especially with someone in charge just being around, but he was too focused on helping guide ida. when all the mixture was poured, and edmund took the tray, bernard swiped his finger along the side of the bowl to take a bit of the mixture, smiling to the younger of the three.
he glanced over at edmund and immediately that smile faded for a moment, quickly putting his finger in his mouth like he just got caught doing something bad. he wiped said hand off on his shirt and watched ida, that smile returning. his son would have loved to bake, he thought to himself. he dreamed of returning home, to open the door and smell the pie being baked in the oven, to hear his wife humming to herself like she always did. she always seemed to do something with a rhythm, and he wished he could reach through time and pull her and his son out. he wished he could have them in his arms again. it made his chest hurt. his heart ached for that life again.
he got so caught up in thinking, being sucked up by his own thoughts, before edmund spoke to him. it made him startle, but not enough to be noticed. he just snapped his attention towards the other man before sighing and adjusting his shirt sleeve. bernard glanced towards ida as edmund spoke about her, watching as she contently lapped at the spoon. it made the old man's heart hurt, tears threatening to spill as he chose to look away. he chose to look away a lot. walking down the streets of the towns he destroyed, the way people begged for mercy. he just turned his cheek and continued. he bit his tongue.
he listened as edmund spoke about their father, nodding his head every now and again, focusing instead on the oven to try to watch the muffins. he himself could not remember much of his father, aside from the fact that he was some religious nutjob who thought everything around them was a sin. it made bernard tired. not as tired as he always was now, of course, with his slouched back and his baggy eyes. he looked years older than he was, because he had seen too much. he had so many deaths on his hands, and it shook him to his core.
he sniffled. [i]she'll never have a father figure who cares. what was he, but a father with no son? a monster? a criminal, born of hatred? he scratched at his arm and turned his gaze back to ida, a small smile cracking once more.
"i am sorry to hear that." his voice felt so rough. "i could not dream of doing that to my son." if he were still alive, he thought to himself.
at least, he thought selfishly, his son did not have to grow up without missing either or both parents.
"speech."
[spoiler=//tags — updated ;; 09/01/21]
general
> bernard smith ;; saint bernard, bernie
> male;; he/him
> 47yrs ;; ages real time ;; december 15th
> flintlock lodge
physical
> physical health ;; 75%
> minor injuries ;; frostbite on fingers, a few bruises
> major injuries ;; n/a
> important things to note ;; n/a
appearance
> thick and short grey hair ; dark blue/green eyes ; average, def a dad bod, rounder stomach ; 5'9" ; 240 lbs
> no body modifications
> a white shirt with suspenders ; black pants ; usually wears a heck ton of jackets if he's cold
> pocket change ; cigarettes ; a photo of his wife and son
> important things to note ;; scar on left side under ribs ; missing a toe or two
personality
> very honest ; stubborn ; sympathetic ; comes across as airy or non-present ; in his head often ; quick-witted ; think first, act after
> PTSD
> no tics
relationships
> oliver smith x dianne smith ;; dianne - deceased ; oliver - deceased
> henry passed from cancer
> dianne passed from natural causes
> no siblings
> heterosexual
> no known crushes
> widow, wife was jillian williams - deceased ; passed from a raid in home
> son was warrin - deceased ; passed from a raid in home
interaction/confrontation
> medium mentally | medium physically
> non-violent power play allowed
> will not attack/kill/maim/capture without asking the author
> do not kill/maim/capture without asking me (timothy)
> if you want to attack, use this colour (red) and underline it
misc importance
> "this is him talking." ;; his speech is bolded
> this is him thinking ;; thoughts are in italics
[/spoiler]
he glanced over at edmund and immediately that smile faded for a moment, quickly putting his finger in his mouth like he just got caught doing something bad. he wiped said hand off on his shirt and watched ida, that smile returning. his son would have loved to bake, he thought to himself. he dreamed of returning home, to open the door and smell the pie being baked in the oven, to hear his wife humming to herself like she always did. she always seemed to do something with a rhythm, and he wished he could reach through time and pull her and his son out. he wished he could have them in his arms again. it made his chest hurt. his heart ached for that life again.
he got so caught up in thinking, being sucked up by his own thoughts, before edmund spoke to him. it made him startle, but not enough to be noticed. he just snapped his attention towards the other man before sighing and adjusting his shirt sleeve. bernard glanced towards ida as edmund spoke about her, watching as she contently lapped at the spoon. it made the old man's heart hurt, tears threatening to spill as he chose to look away. he chose to look away a lot. walking down the streets of the towns he destroyed, the way people begged for mercy. he just turned his cheek and continued. he bit his tongue.
he listened as edmund spoke about their father, nodding his head every now and again, focusing instead on the oven to try to watch the muffins. he himself could not remember much of his father, aside from the fact that he was some religious nutjob who thought everything around them was a sin. it made bernard tired. not as tired as he always was now, of course, with his slouched back and his baggy eyes. he looked years older than he was, because he had seen too much. he had so many deaths on his hands, and it shook him to his core.
he sniffled. [i]she'll never have a father figure who cares. what was he, but a father with no son? a monster? a criminal, born of hatred? he scratched at his arm and turned his gaze back to ida, a small smile cracking once more.
"i am sorry to hear that." his voice felt so rough. "i could not dream of doing that to my son." if he were still alive, he thought to himself.
at least, he thought selfishly, his son did not have to grow up without missing either or both parents.
"speech."
[spoiler=//tags — updated ;; 09/01/21]
general
> bernard smith ;; saint bernard, bernie
> male;; he/him
> 47yrs ;; ages real time ;; december 15th
> flintlock lodge
physical
> physical health ;; 75%
> minor injuries ;; frostbite on fingers, a few bruises
> major injuries ;; n/a
> important things to note ;; n/a
appearance
> thick and short grey hair ; dark blue/green eyes ; average, def a dad bod, rounder stomach ; 5'9" ; 240 lbs
> no body modifications
> a white shirt with suspenders ; black pants ; usually wears a heck ton of jackets if he's cold
> pocket change ; cigarettes ; a photo of his wife and son
> important things to note ;; scar on left side under ribs ; missing a toe or two
personality
> very honest ; stubborn ; sympathetic ; comes across as airy or non-present ; in his head often ; quick-witted ; think first, act after
> PTSD
> no tics
relationships
> oliver smith x dianne smith ;; dianne - deceased ; oliver - deceased
> henry passed from cancer
> dianne passed from natural causes
> no siblings
> heterosexual
> no known crushes
> widow, wife was jillian williams - deceased ; passed from a raid in home
> son was warrin - deceased ; passed from a raid in home
interaction/confrontation
> medium mentally | medium physically
> non-violent power play allowed
> will not attack/kill/maim/capture without asking the author
> do not kill/maim/capture without asking me (timothy)
> if you want to attack, use this colour (red) and underline it
misc importance
> "this is him talking." ;; his speech is bolded
> this is him thinking ;; thoughts are in italics
[/spoiler]
A SAINT BERNARD SITS AT THE
☾・゚. ━━━━━ TOP OF THE DRIVEWAY
bernard smith | he/him | flintlock