Adaline Jameson || female || 24 ||

Adaline had gone about her day upon having in the morning, even having to make a quick trip to one of the hunters whom preffered his solitude, but every now and again did enjoy some company—especially when Adaline brought a few fresh ingredients or supplies for him or one of his family members did.

After her tasks through the day had been completed, she had cleaned up her little home, and had tended to the animals once again, even walking them about a tad to let them stretch their legs rather then be cooped up in a barn or stall all of the day. They would already endure that when the heaviest of the snows came during the winter, where everyone was snowed in and leaving seemed impossible less you risk shoveling snow away and venturing out into the white to town.

Honestly, Adaline wished she had the ingredients go make something sweet for him. She knew giving sweets to some of the folks who ended up in docs office, including kids, and even herself, had helped to feel slightly better. She wnated his focus off his missing leg, though that was unavoidable, she would try when she could depsite having to do her chores and errands.

Seeing he had been asleep she sat for a little for standing, figuring she best leave while evening was falling. When her hand left the door frame and she had taken a simple step she paused. Depsote how hushed it was she did catch the faint sounds of speech and now turned her body to look at the man. She was silent before eventually a soft smile tugged at her lips, and she nodded.

"Alright, I'll stay." Her words wern't bubbly or anything, instead held a soft tone as usual, and a warm touch. She moved to go and sit down while wrapping her mothers shawl around herself better. She didn't much have imagine he would say anything, and it was surprising he did. That, and she had never heard a mans voice so faint. Only time she ever had was when her sister died, her fathers voice had broken at that and seemed to almost become as faint as hers when sickness befell or or as soft as her mothers when she would tuck them in at night.

At this point Adaline decides to take off her shoes, then socks, sitting in a criss-cross manner while she sat. She wad a.small woman, but even then it was clear she worked hard, even callouses on her feet from the walk yesterday and from work she did outside. Despite that her skin somehow maintained a softness to it, mainly because her aunt and mother lectured her on maintaining appealing qualities, and to appease them she tried her best.

"I wish I'd brought a book for ye' to maybe read or even some treats for you, though dox wouldn't be too happy bout' that, proabbly would get me'self scolded for the treats." Adaline offered a light and bubbly smile now. Despite being tired from work and missing out on sleep, she carried out with her normal nature, and to lighten the mood even gave a soft laugh.

James H. Swift || male || 23 || November 22, 1866 || bedroom

Adaline turned around and smiled softly as she came back into the room, pushing the closed door behind her. She settled on the floor near the bed—by the same chair she'd sat on earlier—and pulled her shawl more tightly about her shoulders. Her eyes clouded for a few moments and James guessed that he'd triggered some memory of hers. Not knowing what it could be, he kept quiet and waited, listening as she spoke and laughed.

"I don't mind," James said after a moment of silence, his voice still only a bit above a whisper, "you can't bring something each time."

At least I'm understandable, he thought, some days my words would blend together, father hated that, and it would make mother cry. I spent those days hungry and alone.

Adaline had removed her shoes, James saw, and her bare feet looked rather pink in the low light. She sat with her legs crossed, looking up at him and smiling. It had been years since someone had smiled at him like that, and it made his blood rush and eyes burn. He kept looking down, not wanting her to see his display of emotion.

"James," he said after a moment, "I'm James."

Adaline Jameson || female || 24 ||

Atleast he was speaking, which was nice. Yeah his words were a bit quiet, which was understandable as he didnt seem much the talker, but it was nice. Better than complete silence.

"I suppose yer' right." She looked at her feet, away from him. Her feet still hurt which sucked. As she thought about it though, she had both feet and...he didn't. A cruel thought, and it made her feel bad. Mayne she could have done more to help him, mayne she could have found him earlier, moved quicker, or could have tried helping him a bit while they were out there. Maybe he would still have his leg then.

When he spoke his name it startled her. Adaline looked up quickly, but she smiled sweetly. "Well, it's very lovely to meet ye' James." She tilted her head a tad while looking up at him, her light green eyes glinting with kindness with each words she spoke. "Oh...have you drank any water today? If not you really must, though maybe doc or his wife brought you some. I haven't the slightest idea, but you need to care for yourself, and ye' need strength to recover. Yer' still at chance of illness due to being out in the cold rain."

Adaline was genuinely worried, and she wore her emotions on her face easily.

James H. Swift || male || 23 || November 22, 1866 || bedroom

She'd studded her feet well he talked, and James thought he could see something like guilt in her eyes. He guessed she'd wanted to do more and was angry with herself, but knew not in the second what to say upon the matter. She looked up with a smile when he said his name; however, he saw the wideness of her eyes and knew he'd startled her. James liked that Adaline was so open with what she felt, it made him feel less embraced about the storm raging within him.

"I've not," he said, answering her question first, "but, I've water here on the table, and I'll drink."

Of course, I state the obverse, James thought, taking the cup and bring it to his lips, can't talk straight, never have, words make sense in my head but not after they come out.

"You did nothing wrong," James said after a purse, cradling the cup in one hand, "I'm a doctor myself, and I can sit and tell you I'm lucky to be alive. I've seen men die of less and done my best to patch them up after worse..." He sighed. "I'll not lie and say thing will be easy, but I could have taken worse if it'd been lead the took my leg, most 'surgeons' don't know anything."

Adaline Jameson || female || 24 ||

"Alright, just wanted to make sure. If ye' need anything I can get it fer' you." Atleast she was expressing concern, even though all he needed to do was recover—added with getting used to one leg. She could only imagine how things would be more different from him, then the thought of his horse stumped her mind. Would he be able to ride his mare? Maybe...they could find him a fake leg. She had seen the doctor help some who lost limbs by giving them fake ones, she had even see some people do relatively well with them, but that would also be costly she imagine. She hadn't the slightest idea to be honest; doc had that information.

When he spoke again she actually flinched, not having imagined he would bring such up on how she felt guilt biting at her. She looked at him and was dead quiet for a moment before nodding a small bit.

Damn...I guess I do indeed wear my emotions on my face. A soft sigh escaped her lips while she looked down.

"I know...but you always have to let other possibilies go through your head, or maybe that just be me doing so. For example, if maybe I had left earlier rather then late like i did maybe I could've found ye' and that could have been the difference. Many different things actually could have changed the outcome....for better or fer' worse." She soon looked up while ever so slightly tilting her head to the side like a curious pup.

"Yer' a doctor?" She seemed to flutter between subjects rather quickly. Then again, she was just curious. "Atleast you positive on such situation. I've seen some of docs patients who...either cant use a limb or lose it and....they are really negative, a few even..." Adaline shook her head, soon sighing softly. Hopefully by his positivity the same fate wouldn't lay in his future as had others who had lost their limbs up there.

The Jameson girl was now undoing her hair, carefully weaving the red ribbon out of her dark brown strands. Her mother would have chewed her out seeing her do this infront of anyone. Ah, the talk she would get IC her mother wasthere, and this caused a small laugh to escape her lips, though she stifled it.

Now her dark brown hair fell down her back ehile strands lightly hung in her face, her hand holding the ribbon close and the eye that kept her braid together less removed. Now she decided to change subject, running her hand through her hair. "Does yer' mare have a name? She's really perty, and she's really loyal to ye'. Not too often to see that woth a horse so yer' lucky Mr. James." She smiled, partially being silly, partially just trying to stir up some small talk.

James H. Swift \ male \ 23 \ November 22, 1866 \ bedroom

James exhaled softly and leaned back, trying to process everything Adaline had just said. Her mind seemed to change subjects quickly, and he could tell she'd no wish to linger on the loss of his leg; though she worried over how it would effect him. His thoughts also differed, and it took some time for James to gather them and order them in the way he wished. When he finally did speak, it was with some hesitation and a hint of fear.

"I am a doctor," he confirmed, "my proper education saved many lives during the war." He paused for a moment. "I've seen thousands die and killed hundreds myself, if anything drives me under it will be guilt over those deaths and the braking of my oath as a man of medicine."

Never truer words...not even from the lips of a dead man. James thought. And they say that the dead cannot lie.

"My mare is named Misty," he added, smiling. "she's been with me since before the war, almost seven years now, and she's the only family I've left now. "

Adaline Jameson || female || 24 ||

"War?" Adaline seemed confused, very confused. She had heard her father speak few times of war, and a few others, but for the most part they were rather secluded out their. The nearest town area or so wad miles out, a good trip away. She was now like a curious child though, eyes holding a curious glimmer. "So you were a doctor for a war?" She question before clamping a hand over her mouth and looking away, mothers words ringing in her ears.

You shouldn't pry into others past or much about them less told it's okay, Adaline. Maybe he doesn't want to speak about it or remember it. Adaline reminded herself.

"Misty....that's a pretty name for a beautiful mare." She soon nodded, understanding his words. "Well you have a very loyal friend from her." She offered another of her smiles while now standing up to stretch her legs.

James H. Swift // male // 23 // November 22, 1866 // bedroom

James opened his mouth and blinked, shocked that Adaline knew so little about what he spoke of. The war had raged for almost five years, and she'd not even been touched by its horrors? It brought home to James how far removed from the rest of the world this tiny town was. He tried to gather himself, but his mind could not wrap around the idea that there were places barely or untouched by such I violent conflict.

"Yes, war," he said after a moment, voice breathy with shock, "the war that near ripped the country apart, that left tens of thousands dead and even more injured. How do you not know, it was political, everyone took a side!"

Just don't ask who's side I was on. He added in thought. You don't want to know and it will change his you see me no matter what else I say or do.

Adaline had gotten up well he spoke, clearly wanted to stretch her legs. James watched her, thinking the red ribbon in her hair was like a strip of blood. He shook himself, dispelling that thought, and added allowed,

"I named her, and she's the greatest gift I've ever reserved...the longest lasting, to."

Adaline Jameson || female || 24 ||

Adaline become flustered, now looking away when he spoke of the war. She really did know very little of what was going on outside of the town. A lot apparently, and now she felt embarrased. Jeez, maybe she really should go about town more or actually take time to venture out beyond their area more.

"I don't leave town much....nor' do I really...pay attention to much chat. I've heard my father talk of it some from letters from a family member, but otherwise I always subsided any chat...I also don't leave my house too often, especially in te' winter months." She explained, soft soft and a bit more hushed. She felt very embarrassed, now feeling idiotic to have not educated herself on affairs outside of the town. "I don't have the biggest attention span." She offered a.smile when looking in his direction, but took note not to do anymore prying into the subject. She would merely ask her father or brothers when she returned home.

"Well, an animal friend sowtimes is even better then people friends." She now had that warm and silly smile on her face, finally finishing pulling the ribbon from her hair, mainly because it untangled itself upon her standing up.

Standing rather then sitting led to her hair being longer then it appeared in a braid, stopping further than her mid-back, due for a trimming or slight cut while she now slipped her mothers shawl off.

"So, where do ye' come from atleast? Unless that's too personal....if I ask anything too personal just don't answer, I'm just curious considerin' you were out there in them mountains. We don't normally get travelers during the cold season, everyones confused." Her words grew fainter as Adaline now figured she was talking too much or prying to much again, but watched him and waited to see what he would say of the matter.

James H. Swift // male // 23 // November 22, 1866 // bedroom

James nodded, still trying to recover from his shook. He supposed it made sense that this far west the war ripping the east apart would have seemed far off and unimportant. Adaline was flushed, and James felt bad for upsetting her. She ran her fingers though her hair as she watched him, seeming to wait for an answer.

Telling her won't hurt, especially if the war touched so little here, and I don't half to mention the side of the war I was on. My hometown does not point to grey, after all.

"Nantucket," James said, eyes misty at the memory of his home, "it's an island of Cape Cod. It was the whaling capital of the world for many years, but ships started getting bigger and New Bedford has a better deep water port. I've not been back since the war started," a lie, "but I don't think the industry will service the war on the island. Business can be found in other places and so many young men where killed..." James sighed. "My family's also something of an oddity, it's inherited, so it's not like we can change and get away from it. You can't help who you are related to."