Letters to a Soldier

[Renny]

A roleplay for Wolfy and I~

this is about  a soldier with no family gets signed up to receive these letters from a kid. The kid ends up being young, but is battling with bullying and the letters help the soldier get through his times at war, and eventually, he gets injured and the kid ends up finding him with his mother, who then falls in love with the soldier.

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Our Cast of Characters

The Soldier, Sergeant Ross Liebgott - damaged soldier, sent home after being severely injured, however he's recovered.

The Kid, Aspen Embers - young boy from a broken home, bullied and struggling to find his courage and voice

The Mother, Rhine Embers - strong beauty that grew up fast, single mother, longing for the innocence and simplicity of life she once had

~~

face claims and pictures - coming soon.

[wolf]

<3

[wolf]

The kid will be Aspen Embers - young boy from a broken home, bullied and struggling to find his courage and voice
And the mother Rhine Embers - strong beauty that grew up fast, single mother, longing for the innocence and simplicity of life she once had

[Renny]

Starter ~

The psychologist stared at him, her eyes the color of the whiskey that seemed to fill his glass more and more every night. He leaned back, fingers laced together. She looked tired, rings drooping around her eyes and her white blouse looked wrinkled like she'd worn it to her recent hookups house. Her black hair was pulled back, tight against her head. Not a good style for her. It seemed to pull on the thin skin of her face and make her look gaunt, and the thin wire frame glasses did nothing to complement her plain face. He looked away, and out into the pouring rain. "Mr. Liebgott." Her voice sounded tired and weak, like she was done trying. Done trying to get war torn soldiers to open up. After the kind of trauma sustained by him, he wasn't surprised when his First Sergeant to go see Dr. Reed. She was a nice woman, but he'd rarely spoke three words to her. He felt so inside of his own head. "Ross." His eyes flickered back to her, and she tilted her head. "Anything you want to talk about today?" She sounded strained. He shook his head, running a hand through his wavy dark hair. It had grown out from the original buzz and it felt weird to be able to tug his fingers through the thick dark locks that he hadn't been able to do in so long. "Anymore nightmares?"

Ross didn't respond. Of course he had nightmares. Every soldier did. They left him sometimes on the floor, soaked with sweat, and sobbing helplessly. His eyes turned back to her and he shook his head. She sighed. "Is there anything familiar you can do you to get back in the habit of something. Your First Sergeant told me you used to write letters?" She's fishing, but the memory strikes Ross so hard, he nearly flashes back. The letters. He hadn't thought about them in so long. His fingers tighten on his knees. She leans up, eager to drink in his involuntary response. "Who did you write them to?" Dr. Reed was prying, nosing too far into his life, but Ross couldn't keep the words from his mouth.

"A little boy named Aspen." Ross kept thinking of those letters. All of the personal things he wrote about in them. About all the things he saw that little boy go through. He lived off those letters, and wrote with passion that he'd never felt anywhere else. His mother died of cancer when he was seven. Dad became an alcoholic after his sister went off the deep end and hung from a rope on the ceiling when Ross found her at ten. His father died of liver cancer a year before he went into the army. Ross turned eighteen and never looked back. He'd gotten family in his platoon, but they were all gone. Ross shuddered, staring out the window.

"Maybe I could get you in touch with him? Or you could write him again?" Ross looked up at Dr. Reed, so gentle and hopeful to help a lost soldier. A man whose humanity was stripped away at the flash of a bomb that killed all nine men in his unit. And yet, he'd survived up on the roof with his sniper rifle as he watched through his scope as everything he'd built in the last four years was ripped away with one single second.

"Yeah, sure." Ross murmured, and Dr. Reed smiled. He still remembered the address by heart. Dr. Reed let him go relatively quickly, and he found his way back to his South Carolina home. A place he'd bought, but realized was actually in the same little town as the boy. He decided to write anyway, even if they lived in the same little town. His house was on the outskirts, still filled with his mother's belongings. Knickknacks from Carrie, and Mary Jean. Nothing remained of Joseph, since he'd taken his things and burned them or put them in the shabby apartment. This house had fallen to his grandmother, who'd kept it the same, while in her nursing home. When she passed, it fell to him. And now he stood in the entry way. He didn't even remember writing the letter, or putting it in the post, or if he'd even get a response. He hadn't looked at the other letters in so long. Slowly he walked to the kitchen to glance at the paper and continue his morning routine of being stuck in his own head for far too long. And maybe, wait for a miracle.

[wolf]

The trees were just beginning to turn colors with the changing of summer to autumn, the landscape painted in lovely arrays of red, orange, and yellow. The wind blew brisk, although it had a soft embrace as it danced across the skin of a young women who stood upon the white porch of a house in a small town in South Carolina. Long, blonde waves of hair lifted in the breeze and curled around her thin shoulders and played a silent game with the wind as it moved. She looked quite youthful, this women, leaned against a dainty railing with her chin resting upon an uplifted palm and her other arm leisurely dangling. She was undoubtably beautiful. However, her blue eyes were older than her years and it was clear that she was not another small town beauty, enjoying the simple days and dancing with handsome strangers in the midnight rain. Her eyes, speckled with grey, were wise and deep and spoke of her struggles and her strength.

Her ocean eyes now flickered to the end of the long, gravel driveway as the familiar sound of a heaving, old bus reached her ears. She lifted from her slouched position, stretching on her toes to look past the large tree that obscured her view and towards the black doors that swung open to reveal a boy. The young woman felt her lips tilt up at the corners and her heart gave a delighted swell. Most her age felt this way towards a lover, but this was her son. Her everything. Aspen.

She watched as he walked casually, long legs taking on a extended stride, fingers curled around the straps of his bookbag while eyes that she knew were grey as a cloudy day were downcast. She glanced away to watch the bus pull away from their home and continue onward until only the rustling of the leaves and the shifting of the gravel beneath the boy's feet could be heard. She watched him again now and saw as his gaze lifted as soon as the school bus became part of another world. A dazzling smile graced his features, one identical to his mother's albeit somewhat more frequent, and then he was running, his lean legs carrying him swiftly toward the little house. She loved to see him like this, so free and open around her, and it made her wish that he was always this way. But with Aspen, as soon as you put him around kids his age, he seemed to shut down. He hadn't always been like that, but perhaps it was his dreamer personality or his keen intelligence or his pure nature that caused his peers to see him as different and bully him. She grew angered and sad every time she thought about the tears her son had cried telling her about these kids at school and how she felt so powerless to help him, despite all of her efforts to.

She pushed those thoughts away and simply watched her handsome son as he now reached the black mailbox and hurriedly snatched the papers from within. His pale curls looked more golden in the afternoon son, almost darkening to the shade of the ten year old's tan skin. His bookbag flopped against his back as he ran the rest of the distance to the steps of the porch before bounding up them two at a time and then racing to his mother. Her arms were already open and she accepted his embrace, softly ruffling his hair and giving him a tight squeeze. "Hey, Mom." His voice was muffled against her shirt and he pulled away and smiled again at her. "My Aspen. How was your day?" The boy merely nodding, eyes already focused on the mail in his hands as he drifted towards the light blue front door. She followed behind him, a peaceful expression upon her lovely face.

The blonde woman was draped upon a chair, a notebook in her lap and a pen in hand when the boy burst into to the room, breathing out her name. She looked up at him and her gaze shifted to an envelope he held in his hand. The question in her eyes was obvious as she peered back at her son and raised her eyebrows. Aspen neared her, already ripping open the letter. "It's from Ross."

Ross. How many times had she heard that name? It had been a while, though. Her son had began writing to a solider, Sergeant Ross, two years ago as part of some program that he had taken interest in. She hadn't minded especially when she watched as her son became happier and opened up a little more from writing to this man and sharing his own thoughts and learning the soldier's story. Aspen had kept many aspects of these writings secret from her, which she understood seeing as those letters had always been so precious and private between the two. She watched as his face lit up, eyes scouring the page. The woman was already standing, crossing the room and handing her son her notebook and pen to write a reply. Aspen absently grabbed at her materials before settling down on the floor, letter held to his face. She reached down and plucked the discarded envelope from beside the boy, looking it over. Her attention caught on the return address- this man now lived only about seven to ten minutes from them. She supposed he must have come home from his stationing. The man whom her son looked up to a respected and almost loved, despite having never met, lived in their small town.

Dear Sergeant Ross,

I am so very happy to hear from you. It has been a little while since I got to talk to you last. So you are home now from overseas? I'm sure that is nice. I just started up school last month and I have been thinking a lot about our old letters and the things you used to say to me that made me more confident like you. I have wondered if you think of me.. I guess you do. How are you? I hope you are well. It's okay if you aren't, though. I read once that soldiers have to deal with a lot of change and mental and emotional stuff once they come home from war. At least I am a constant right? I won't leave you or anything. Anyway, I really have missed you and I am happy that I saw your name on this letter. My mom says you live close to us now (she saw your address on the envelope) and I think that is really cool. Maybe we could meet and say hi sometime.

Your friend,
Aspen Embers

The boy ran out to the mailbox and gently placed his stamped envelope-encased letter inside, flipping up the little red flag. Then Aspen was jogging back inside, flashing his mother a grin before disappearing into his room. The young woman watched him go, her mind drifting to wonder what would come of this solider who meant so much to her son and was now within a close distance of their small home.