j-kahnwald

[j-kahnwald]

@j-kahnwald

[j-kahnwald]

"Killed?" The word almost hurls his stomach inside out. Jonas has started to shake, his body giving way to the emotional pressure he has unleashed. "I- was never going to k- I-" his voice breaks and he gapes silently at Iris. How could she think that of him? If he had been a spy or a killer he could never have become so close to her, fallen in love and felt her love touch him like a fire. Has he fallen so quickly in her eyes? Jonas feels the walls of their home topple down around them. He has broken her trust, but only because he once gained it on false pretences.

The world falls into darkness, and even sounds seem distant. Iris' words are reaching him but he can't find the strength to respond. If she sees him as one of them now, then there's nothing he can say to make his actions seem right. No words can undo this, no actions can make it right, but perhaps time will erase the worst of the hurt.

Iris' hand on his cheek pulls him out of the abyss. His gaze searches her eyes, trembling hands reach up to touch her hands. Does she still see the Jonas she loves? "I never wanted to lie," he swallows, "I promise."

"I had to find you, because you're like me," his gaze falls again as he searches for the right words, "you're a child of a time traveler. And I- I would not exist if not for time travel." Jonas looks up again, with an ocean of regret washing over his sea of hope. "I was told where to find you, more or less, but I was never going to bring you to them. I never worked for them."

A chill travels through his body, reminding him that the snow is not his friend. Slowly he rises and offers a hand to Iris. "Do you think you can trust me again? I know it was wrong of me to lie. That is the only thing I regret."

There's something quite numbing about his initial response. "In--instructed?" Iris skeptically parrots. The frigid air seeped it's wicked tendrils right into the marrow of her bones, causing her to shiver vehemently. The more Jonas reveals, the more her head spins. It whirls dizzingly, faster and faster, until tangible thoughts are swept up in a tornado like field. Overwhelmed, Iris pants trying to usher all the panic from her form.

The implication is hideous. Betrayal warp's her countenance as she studies him. His working for Rittenhouse without knowing who they were twists violent knots in her intestines. Her emotions blur together. Anger. Regret. Hurt. Betrayal. With her jaw clenched tighter than it had ever been, she determines to gift him the benefit of the doubt. Jonas clearly wasn't enjoying this any more than she was----

"Y--- you could have killed me for them. For Rittenhouse, but --- but you didn't. W---why? I --- I would have never seen it coming." There's a massive gamble she's taking right now. She knows this as she kneels down beside him. "What -- what did they offer? Was it -- was it money? Were you --- you supposed to just hand me over to them?" She had a trillion questions battering her tired brain. But only two seemed to matter. Why hadn't he handed her over? Was he taking her somewhere so that he could? "Why did you agree to find me?"

Her hand violently trembles even as it reaches out to tenderly cup his jaw. "Jonas---" Her lips move with the desire to say more. "Are-- are they going to harm you because --- of me?" He may be in just as much danger as she was now. If not more, she realizes with a sharp swallow. Rittenhouse did not take kindly to being slighted. "Do-- do you promise, from now on, to tell me the truth?" Iris presses with a renewed sense of urgency.

[j-kahnwald]

Like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle they fit perfectly together. His hands pull gently through her hair -- its silky flow between his fingers. As her body moves close to his, he feels the welcoming warmth embrace him. He remembers this feeling, this light that shines from within, an invisible aura of safety, it is home.

Her teasing question prompts a smile from Jonas. He would not mind changing his name, giving himself over to this life with her completely. His arm wraps around her waist as she tugs at him, moving down to the grass with her. Leaning over her, still smiling he says, "Iris Flynn, you can have me, all of me. And I'll have all you will give me, name... kisses," he grins and moves in to kiss her.

"But I am afraid I will still have to share you with all this," he cocks his head towards the starry sky. "I'll never be able to steal you from the sky."

Jonas rolls onto his back, leaving an arm out for Iris to lie on. "We'll stay here forever", he smiles.

For a fraction of a moment life is perfect. The missing link, it slots into place. He, Jonas, is it!!!! He has always been it, the soul her's eagerly sought after. Iris finds herself humming contentedly against his lips as Jonas's sturdy fingers weave through her dark strands.

His vow makes her swoon. In a world full of trap doors, easy exits, and worse-- his words are more like concrete. She moves, gracefully attempting to intertwine their fingers as his gaze hones in on her's. Breathless lips part with the widest smile manageable. "Does that make you mine, Jonas Flynn?" She teases, not at all uncomfortable sharing her own name with him. Her lips press a series of butterfly kisses to his face. "All mine?" Cheekily she adds, "before you agree, I'll have you know, I don't really like to share."

"Or---?" She leaves the other option open to him. "Would you prefer your name? I'm sorry. I didn't even think to ask----" Iris questions, after a moment of ponderance.

She tugs him down to the earthen ground with her, should he be willing to follow. There's something ever more enchanting about the soft sway of blooms around them and the charming tinkle of stars above them. He made her so blissfully happy. Letting her fingers find the nearest, prettiest bloom in the dark, she moves to tuck it behind his ear. "Is it alright if we sleep out here? Out beneath the stars? Tangled in each other's limbs?" She sheepishly prods.

[j-kahnwald]

[j-kahnwald]

“What exactly are you here for?“ - from Francesca

At a loss of words -- which he could hardly be blamed for in the presence of such a beautiful lady -- Jonas stared dumbly for a moment. Wind pulled through his blond hair and light cotton shirt. The moment dragged on. The wind must have carried away all his thoughts and memories, Jonas told himself, because he could hardly come up with a reasonable answer to the question.

"I am looking for someone." His gaze did a quick tour of their surroundings. No cameras or sets nearby could explain the young woman's outfit. Now that, and the fact that he had stepped through the wormhole, suggested that this was not the 21st century. "I think," lips twitched nervously into a half-smile, "I am a little lost."

[j-kahnwald]

Memories flickered before Jonas' eyes when he walked through the camp. Only a month ago he had walked through a settlement in the aftermath of a swift and brutal attack. There were only women and children left, the men had either been killed our were placed elsewhere with the army. Buildings had caved in like tents, smoke rose from burned-down property. Soldiers were ravaging the houses that remained standing, stealing from those who had already lost everything. Jonas did not wish that fate on anyone else, and as they stepped among the Patriot soldiers he knew what he had to do to prevent it.

"It will be enough," he said, without knowing what he based that claim on. He had no idea how far the Hessians had moved, but he knew that sneaking an attack took time and patience, while preparing men to fight for their life was a quick shout away.

With an empty expression he watched the events unfurl -- orders and information being exchanged, soldiers and officers moving in and out of view. Gone was the fire of his eyes, gone was the colour of life on his cheeks. His mind and soul were focused on the battle ahead, as if waiting until it was time to return to his body.

Eyes widened with surprise at the glass of brandy he was handed. The alcohol burned down his throat and rekindled the fire inside of him. He looked at the map for a moment, orienting himself. "This is where I was," he pointed at the forest south of the camp. "The unit is mostly there, but also here," his finger traced a larger area. "Two- three hundred men. Eine Stunden," he muttered under his breath while searching for the English words, "... one hour away."

Looking up Jonas searched the room to see what weapons were there. If he did not know the names he could have pointed at them, but alas the available arsenal was small. "They will carry light weapons to move quicker. No horses, no noise. Maybe a few canons. Do you know what the Büchse is? It is like a rifle. That is their strongest weapon." With furrowed eyes he looked down at the map again and examined the terrain around the camp. "They will use the woods for cover. Some men will be in the trees all around the camp. Anyone who runs will be shot."

Before his eyes he saw the panicked women running for the trees, saw their bodies fall one by one. His throat twisted into a knot and so he emptied the glass of brandy and felt the pain draw him back to reality. "Once they arrive, the woods will not be safe. We have to be there before them."

When Jonas stuttered out an affirmation, Ben nodded and indicated that the boy follow. Anders’ gaze was sharp once he took the rear, but the other men didn’t so much as grumble as they all returned to camp.

In the distance, the sound of soft chatter and crackling flames started to greet them, and little by little, they entered the bleak familiarity of camp. For Ben, there was always a mixture of guilt and pride whenever he beheld his men – pride for their perseverance and fighting in a just cause, but guilt since he, himself, was provided for far more substantially with food and clothing. He never felt this more strongly than when he strolled through camp dressed in boots, gloves and a cape.

Realizing that Jonas had posed a question, Ben glanced down at the boy before looking ahead again. “Everyone will need to be roused from their quarters and briefed, so perhaps thirty minutes, at the very most. Are you saying we don’t have enough time to properly prepare our troops?”

Ideally, the entire camp would be on the defensive. The key was to introduce the idea in such a way that wouldn’t create panic – the womenfolk and children, in particular, were a top concern in terms of hysteria. So long as they remained in the dark, he and his men at least had a fighting chance of keeping everything secure.

As they headed into headquarters, shaking off the evening chill and moving toward the back office, Ben whispered instructions to the majority of his men, and then after taking Jonas by the elbow, he indicated to the boy and Anders that they follow him inside for privacy.

Once the trio was standing around a table with maps, parchment, and varying forms of strategy, Ben pushed the camp’s map toward Jonas and instructed, “Show me where they intend to strike – any and all locations, as well as their means of attack.” To Anders, he added, “Grab the boy a brandy from the tray, if you please.”

The captain scowled, clearly not appreciating being turned into a makeshift servant, but he turned and went to pour the brandy nevertheless.

Ben looked back to Jonas. “How many armed men, would you say, are on their way here now? What types of artillery do they possess? Do they have draft horses?”

[j-kahnwald]

Weathered pine trees creak in the wind. In the silence that follows Iris's question the forest reverberates its melancholy song. The world melts away from Jonas's view, it blurs at the edges, leaving only Iris clear and sharp in the centre. Jonas wishes that he could drown in her face. But those eyes that have been so open and welcoming to him are now brewing with confusion and questions he does not want to answer.

He does not know the full truth, but even the little he knows he has hidden from Iris out of fear that it will change the way she feels about him. They are the only souls for miles in any direction, and he wonders if it is wise to cross the line that keeps them on the same side. Perhaps her image of him is already wavering. He has to say something, he has to convince her they are one the same side.

"The day we met I was instructed to find you," the words leave a bad taste in his mouth, and his head falls in shame. Digging down fingers into the sharp crust of the snow he continues, "I did not know their names, I had never met them before... They told me about time travel, and that you were lost. I had to help them find you." He swallows, body sinking further into the white ocean. "Then you told me about Rittenhouse, and I-" his voice breaks, and he takes a shaky breath before continuing, "I never contacted them again, but I suspected- that maybe I was s-sent by them. I chose to go with you, to help you, and I still don't know who they were." He stares at the snow, waiting for the axe of judgement to fall.

Frigid limbs had stiffened despite the continued usage in the perilous trek. Fathomless seas of white, stretching on for several eternities, surround their ever venturing steps. Until he collapses beside her. His despair is every bit as palpable as her own had been. If the Young Flynn was inclined to honesty now, the sense still prevailed. It lingered; amplified and cold in every shallow thunder of her heartbeat.

The last chance of finding her father and clearing his name has vaporized with the Lifeboat winking out of existence. This is all her fault, and that knowledge, weighs like a thousand pound bolder upon the curves of Iris's shoulders. But at least Jonas is safe. He's blessedly alive. That's all that mattered in this present moment.

"I-- I did. I --- I still do." Comes Iris's careful, cautious admission. "I will--- We will find them again. There has to be a way." As doubtful as her optimism felt, it was still better than facing the hopeless, dreary alternative. Wasn't it?

Tears? Iris spots the rivulets torrenting down the slopes of his beloved face and feels her heart lock with dread. "Jonas?" His name departures the confines of her lips in the form of a prayer. She crouches down before him, ignoring the bitter caress of snow. "They?--- They who?" Confusion warps her countenance. "What-- what do you mean?" Was he implying that their initial meeting wasn't a happy accident? The chaotic whirlwind in her mind grows stormily louder. "What--- what is it that you're NOT telling me...?" She patiently demands, with her voice quivering under the influence of a newly discovered fear.

[j-kahnwald]

“It doesn’t hurt anymore. It’s healed! —- OW! No, it’s still broken.“ (Iris Flynn)

@timeguardians

The smile vanishes from his face the moment Iris shows signs of pain. Jonas rushes to her side, wrapping an arm around her waist. "You should take it slow," his voice is filled with concern, "A broken bone doesn't heal in one night. Lean on me."

[j-kahnwald]

“I didn’t want them to kill you. That’s why.“ (Iris Flynn)

@timeguardians

The frozen crust of the snow breaks beneath Jonas’s knees. A silent scream echoes in his mind, threatening to break free beneath the pine trees. His hands fall to his sides and he does not even feel the cold against his bare hands. All he can feel is the dark despair filling every corner of his being. The other time travellers are gone without even a trace in the snow. Months of tracking them to this point in time – wasted. Not even the soft, yellow curtain of sunlight can cheer him now. Not even the clear blue sky can chase away the dark clouds in his mind.

“Why did you stop me?” his voice is thick with fatigue and sorrow.

I didn’t want them to kill you. That’s why.

Warm tears burn pathways down his cheeks. He cannot bring himself to be angry with Iris, because he knows that if the tables were turned he would have done the same. Is it better to live with questions than to die with answers? He thought he knew the answer to that question, but looking back at Iris now he feels the seed of doubt grow. "I thought you wanted this too. Don't you want to know why they sent me? Don't you want to know why we met?"

[j-kahnwald]

Jonas listened silently to the two men talking, their rapid words shot past his ears like bullets. Every change in the mood was caught by his careful gaze, a single emotion could decide his fate. The captain gave a submissive nod -- something had decidedly tipped the scales in Jonas's favour. He was promised food, that was a nice thought in the cold evening. They were understandably still uncertain of his sincerity, but at least the Major had decided to give him a chance. Not only that, but he was willing to let him fight with them. Tired eyes lit up with hope as he was hoisted up and pushed towards the camp.

The exhilaration of being trusted into the ranks of the Patriots quickly melted away with the cold realization of what it would mean. His betrayal would culminate in the most violent manner – he would have to kill his own countrymen, those who had only recently been ready to fight side-by-side with him. Given he did not know them from home, most of them he had met in the war, but stories at a campfire tend to melt away the ice between strangers. In this land, that many nationalities called home, he was a stranger, an impostor, who had come to dispute their claim to that home. The only ones who could call him a friend were the Hessians and the British, who paid him, and he had just abandoned them.

Swallowing down the nausea Jonas kept walking and focused on the Major and the threatening possibility he painted for him. “Y-yes, sir,” he stuttered meekly in reply to the question. What had he imagined would happen once he joined the Patriots? Of course he would be fighting against other Hessians, but in his haste to aid the right cause he had not considered that he might fight the very unit he had left hours ago. His face had taken on a pallor not too far from a corpse’s as each step brought him closer to the point of no return.

The camp materialised around him, with soldiers preparing for the night. Horses neighed in their stables, the smell of food carried from the numerous fires, and at those fires were not only men but women too. Jonas looked at everything with curiosity and compassion, for these were not well-paid men fighting for a foreign king, these were volunteers in uniforms, fighting for their own land. "When can everyone be ready, sir?" Jonas asked carefully, stepping closer to the Major.

j-kahnwald​:

A conflict of morals clashed within the young man. The crime he had committed against his countrymen, and the king who had hired them, was stinging his very soul. It was a blackness that oozed out through his being. His captors grew hostile from the odour of it, and the very ground seemed to rot beneath his feet. His only salvation was a small voice telling him to remember the town they had occupied, the people he had killed for defending their homeland. Jonas closed his eyes and reached for that voice of hope, telling him to remember the dream he had been told of – a free America, a land where people had a voice, and a choice. That was the dream he wanted to fight for.

Opening his eyes he could see that his crime was still staining him in the soldiers’ eyes. A deserter was all they saw. It did not matter that he was trying to help, no one trusted a traitor. The Major had met his words with brusque scepticism that wounded Jonas more than he had expected. His calm demeanor cracked, giving way to uncertainty that shone through his eyes. In that moment he almost regretted coming to the Americans. Almost. “M-my name is Jonas Kahnwald. I was in the Creuzbourg’s Jäger Corps.”

“They will come from the South, sir. I can show their camp on a map.” Jonas swallowed, but it did little to affect his parchment-dry throat. How could he find the words to motivate his betrayal? It wasn’t something he could easily explain, not even in his own language, as it was more a feeling than some list of facts that had prompted his action. “Your fight is the right one,” he blurted out, praying his clumsy words would be understood.

Eyes pleading for the empathy of a stranger he said, “I want to fight for your side. In a battle or- as a servant in camp, I can prove my loyalty.” He did not know if a promise would be enough, he doubted the Major would be won over easily. If all else failed he did have an object that could prove he was telling the truth, but it would also stamp him as a thief and even more of a traitor, thus he wished to use it only as a last resort.

His nerves were eating away at his insides as he could feel their time running out. Once again he pleaded, “Sir, the Jägers are very dangerous… You must-” He fell silent as he did not wish to pretend to know what the Americans had to do, but his expression showed what his words could not deliver, warn the others, watch the forest, and be ready for the attack!

“South?” Ben glanced toward Anders and the other men before looking back to Jonas. “That’ll be easy enough to prove,” he agreed. “We can take you back to headquarters, and then give you access to a map. If you continue with your cooperation, I will also ensure that you are fed and tended to.”

“But sir,” Anders complained, “the other men will need-”

“If Mr. Kahnwald is in fact sincere in his claims, then he will soon be one of our own,” Ben coolly reminded him. “And in this camp, we take care of our own, do we not?”

Anders scowled at Jonas, but offered a clipped nod. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. I am glad we’ve reached an understanding.” With his hand on his saber, Ben stepped forward and nodded to the younger man. “Rise, soldier. There is no need for you to be on your knees. Unlike your king, we Americans do not abide by blind worship – that sort of devotion is reserved for our God.” A few of the men tittered, but once Ben sent them a scowl, the laughter ceased at once.

Looking back to Jonas, he listened as the boy spoke of their side being “the right side,” and for just one moment, a slight softening formed around the hard slant to Ben’s gaze. He, too, had grappled with his ideals at the start of the war – everyone believed themselves an extension of Great Britain, so to cleave oneself from the mother country was no easy decision to make. But Ben had, and relatively quickly. He had no love for a king who lacked empathy for his subjects.

Once a couple of the men hoisted Jonas up to his feet, Ben inclined his head and encouraged, “Come along. If you are willing to show me an act of good faith, I assuredly have the way: you will lead our charge once they attack.”

Again, Anders spluttered in displeasure. “But sir! If this boy is given a weapon, let alone leadership, he will surely turn on our own men!”

“And if he even deigns to think so, I can assure you he will be met with a swift and immediate end,” Ben hissed. “I will constantly be at his side – Kahnwald will never be out of my sight. To turn on me will result in nothing short of a slow and painful death, so he would assuredly never think to do so.” His eyes cut back toward the boy. “Correct, soldier?”

[j-kahnwald]

[j-kahnwald]

If Jonas had thrown himself from a cliff, Iris would be the warm waters embracing him as he fell. He is ready to drown in her, but she answers his kiss and lifts him up to the surface. Instead of falling he soars higher, his head is spinning as he feels the ground fall away beneath him and the stars appear next to him. The sensation is so surreal he has to open his eyes and see that Iris is still there.

They are tangled up like a knot no one can untie. He is breathing in, drinking her essence. As she pulls him closer he reaches up a hand to her neck, softly sliding his fingers through her hair. Then her arms are around him and they are so close that they could merge into one. Their spirits blaze with the warmth of their hearts, sending heat waves through the universe. In that moment he is sure they must be visible from space -- a beacon of light in the dark night.

His name on her lips, it is where it belongs. “I won’t leave you,” he breathes. He is shaking with emotion, they are so close that he can taste her in the air she exhales. He moves away just enough to lock into her gaze. Blue eyes grow solid with determination, “Wherever you go, I will go with you. No matter the time or place.” There is nowhere he would rather be than next to her. "I will go with you to the end of the world, to the end of time."

@j-kahnwald continued during X

All the stars fade out of focus under his remarkable influence. He was as mysterious as the galaxies, realms existing far beyond her reach. Iris knew then, what her heart had seemed to harbor for ages-- she loved him. Loved him most ardently, more than life itself. The sensation is vexing and enthralling at the same time.

Iris's next inhale still tastes of him, of something greater than freedom. Intoxicated her eyes meet his just as the scant space is closed between them. Abandoning her warm tea, her greedy fingers collapse into the fabric of his shirt. She can't hold him close enough to satisfy----

Her arms coil about his neck, deeping the gesture. Funny, how she never gave credence to romance movies. She always considered them absurd. There are no fairy tales' in REAL life.

This kiss however converts that sentiment in a palpable fashion. A collision of heat singes Iris's cheekbones, coloring them a scarlet hue. "J---Jonas," she murmurs --- the weight of his name falling different as it is ghosted upon the brim of his lips. "I-- I don't ever want to know a life without you." There isn't another soul on this planet who meant nearly as much to her as he did. "Don't----" Her voice chokes with emotion, "don't ever leave me...." She entreats. She can't bear the brunt of another loss. Not if it meant being parted from him. "Will you--- will you come with me? Wherever I go? No matter the time or place?" The invitation is not extended lightly.

[j-kahnwald]

Princess Mononoke {Sentence Starters}

“Shall I stop him?“

“I’m not afraid to die.”

“Respect? What’s that?“

“Ugh, I smell like a human.“

“What exactly are you here for?“

“That was it? They weren’t so big.“

“What do you think you’re doing, boy?“

“Why did you stop me from killing her?“

“Well, I give up. Can’t win against fools.“

“I didn’t want them to kill you. That’s why.“

“Stay your hand. The girl’s life is now mine.“

“Sometimes, I think the gods are laughing at us.”

“Listen to me, please, don’t throw your life away!“

“There’s a demon inside you. It’s inside both of you.”

“Well, they say that happy women make a happy village.“

“It doesn’t hurt anymore. It’s healed! —- OW! No, it’s still broken.“

“When you’re going to kill a god, let someone else do your dirty work.“

“So, you say you’re under a curse? So what? So’s the whole damn world.”

“You cannot change fate. However, you can rise to meet it, if you so choose.“

“You mean so much to me, but I can’t forgive the humans for what they’ve done.”

“Life is suffering. It is hard. The world is cursed. But still, you find reasons to keep living.”

“Now watch closely, everyone. I’m going to show you how to kill a god. A god of life and death. The trick is not to fear him.“

[j-kahnwald]

honorhearted​:

The word deserter always brought cause for alarm; not just for those left behind, but the men who had to assess these shady newcomers. Soldiers who hightailed it from their own camps were arguably scum – cowardly – but there was also the chance they’d realized there was merit in fighting for the patriot cause.

“Where is he?” Ben asked Captain Anders. “Has he already been questioned?”

“Along the edge of the perimeter – and no, sir, not beyond the basics,” Anders replied. “He claims we’ll be under attack by nightfall.”

Ben stiffened at this news, his jaw setting into a taut, grim line. There would be nothing to gain from a statement like this; if it truly were a lie, would the boy not entreat with them to send their men elsewhere? To potentially lead them into a trap?

“I’ll take care of this,” Ben assured the other man. Though once they came upon the stranger, something in him momentarily faltered at the sight of the boy in dirty, tattered Hessian garments.

Why did he have to be so young? Ever since Samuel’s passing, Ben found himself foolishly looking towards other young men with a yearning for his chance now lost; with an undeniable naiveté that would surely get him killed, were he to ignore his instincts.

Clenching his jaw, Ben momentarily lowered his eyes – he is not your brother – before lifting them again. “State your name, rank, and business in this camp,” he snapped. Due to his nerves, he was perhaps far brusquer than he would have normally conducted himself.

This hardly seemed to matter, however, since the young man barreled on with his warning, fervent and earnest in his announcement.

Though the other soldiers appeared skeptical, Ben subconsciously tightened his hold around the saber on his hip. “From which direction are they traveling?” he asked, choosing to tread lightly. “And if this is, in fact, a true claim, just what is it you are hoping to gain from turning on your own? Surely you know the penalty for liars on both sides of this war? I cannot protect you – not unless you can prove your loyalty.”

A conflict of morals clashed within the young man. The crime he had committed against his countrymen, and the king who had hired them, was stinging his very soul. It was a blackness that oozed out through his being. His captors grew hostile from the odour of it, and the very ground seemed to rot beneath his feet. His only salvation was a small voice telling him to remember the town they had occupied, the people he had killed for defending their homeland. Jonas closed his eyes and reached for that voice of hope, telling him to remember the dream he had been told of -- a free America, a land where people had a voice, and a choice. That was the dream he wanted to fight for.

Opening his eyes he could see that his crime was still staining him in the soldiers’ eyes. A deserter was all they saw. It did not matter that he was trying to help, no one trusted a traitor. The Major had met his words with brusque scepticism that wounded Jonas more than he had expected. His calm demeanor cracked, giving way to uncertainty that shone through his eyes. In that moment he almost regretted coming to the Americans. Almost. “M-my name is Jonas Kahnwald. I was in the Creuzbourg's Jäger Corps.”

“They will come from the South, sir. I can show their camp on a map.” Jonas swallowed, but it did little to affect his parchment-dry throat. How could he find the words to motivate his betrayal? It wasn’t something he could easily explain, not even in his own language, as it was more a feeling than some list of facts that had prompted his action. “Your fight is the right one,” he blurted out, praying his clumsy words would be understood.

Eyes pleading for the empathy of a stranger he said, “I want to fight for your side. In a battle or- as a servant in camp, I can prove my loyalty.” He did not know if a promise would be enough, he doubted the Major would be won over easily. If all else failed he did have an object that could prove he was telling the truth, but it would also stamp him as a thief and even more of a traitor, thus he wished to use it only as a last resort.

His nerves were eating away at his insides as he could feel their time running out. Once again he pleaded, “Sir, the Jägers are very dangerous... You must-” He fell silent as he did not wish to pretend to know what the Americans had to do, but his expression showed what his words could not deliver, warn the others, watch the forest, and be ready for the attack!

[j-kahnwald]

LOUIS HOFMANN

[j-kahnwald]

If Jonas had thrown himself from a cliff, Iris would be the warm waters embracing him as he fell. He is ready to drown in her, but she answers his kiss and lifts him up to the surface. Instead of falling he soars higher, his head is spinning as he feels the ground fall away beneath him and the stars appear next to him. The sensation is so surreal he has to open his eyes and see that Iris is still there.

They are tangled up like a knot no one can untie. He is breathing in, drinking her essence. As she pulls him closer he reaches up a hand to her neck, softly sliding his fingers through her hair. Then her arms are around him and they are so close that they could merge into one. Their spirits blaze with the warmth of their hearts, sending heat waves through the universe. In that moment he is sure they must be visible from space -- a beacon of light in the dark night.

His name on her lips, it is where it belongs. “I won’t leave you,” he breathes. He is shaking with emotion, they are so close that he can taste her in the air she exhales. He moves away just enough to lock into her gaze. Blue eyes grow solid with determination, “Wherever you go, I will go with you. No matter the time or place.” There is nowhere he would rather be than next to her. "I will go with you to the end of the world, to the end of time."

@j-kahnwald continued during X

All the stars fade out of focus under his remarkable influence. He was as mysterious as the galaxies, realms existing far beyond her reach. Iris knew then, what her heart had seemed to harbor for ages-- she loved him. Loved him most ardently, more than life itself. The sensation is vexing and enthralling at the same time.

Iris's next inhale still tastes of him, of something greater than freedom. Intoxicated her eyes meet his just as the scant space is closed between them. Abandoning her warm tea, her greedy fingers collapse into the fabric of his shirt. She can't hold him close enough to satisfy----

Her arms coil about his neck, deeping the gesture. Funny, how she never gave credence to romance movies. She always considered them absurd. There are no fairy tales' in REAL life.

This kiss however converts that sentiment in a palpable fashion. A collision of heat singes Iris's cheekbones, coloring them a scarlet hue. "J---Jonas," she murmurs --- the weight of his name falling different as it is ghosted upon the brim of his lips. "I-- I don't ever want to know a life without you." There isn't another soul on this planet who meant nearly as much to her as he did. "Don't----" Her voice chokes with emotion, "don't ever leave me...." She entreats. She can't bear the brunt of another loss. Not if it meant being parted from him. "Will you--- will you come with me? Wherever I go? No matter the time or place?" The invitation is not extended lightly.

[j-kahnwald]

Starter for @honorhearted​

“I am trying to warn you!” The words were uttered in frustration. Jonas was shaking from the wind that chilled his sweaty back, from the fear that boiled in his gut, and from the irritation at not being able to plead his case properly. Three pairs of eyes looked at him with disbelief and hostility. “They will attack tonight,” he tried again, fighting against the urge to shake out of his captors’ grip and shout at them to warn the camp.

“Are you telling us you plan to attack?” the captain asked, eyeing Jonas’s uniform -- now dirty and ripped, but still unmistakably in Hessian colours.

“No, the Hessians will attack. Please, you have to warn everyone,” Jonas pleaded. He was sure his absence would have been noticed by now, and maybe that would move the Hessians to attack earlier than planned.

“And are you not with them?” the captain asked.

“No. I don’t want to fight with them. I- I want to fight with you.”

“A deserter then,” the captain pouted his lips in thought. “Search him. I will notify Major Tallmadge.”

Rough hands briskly searched his clothes. Jonas tried to stay calm, even as saw them pull out his only belongings -- a locket, some coins, and two letters -- and hold on to them. The weapons he had carried with him he had left on the way, buried in the forest. They had to see he was willing to cooperate. He had not risked his life leaving everything behind, running from his own camp into the American camp, and almost been shot, to fail at the last step.

A new face appeared with the captain as he returned. “Here is the one we caught in the forest, Major. He claims to be warning us of an impending attack.”

Jonas took a deep breath. This was his chance, he had to convince the man in charge. “I have information of an attack. The Hessians will come tonight, maybe in a few hours, sir,” he said with surprisingly good English pronunciation, although coloured with the German melody. “Your camp is in danger.”