I was the more deceiv'd

[champagnedelis]

Characters: France [AU2] open to all
Setting: Floor Eleven, night time
Format: Either is fine
Summary: Francisca's just returned from being 'home' for about a month, straight after her shaky recovery from the teddy bear event. Needless to say, she's lost it.
Warnings: potential violence, potential suicide, language.

She felt cold.

On her abrupt return to the tower after weeks of wandering the decimated streets of France alone, after weeks of feeling as if someone had cut her heart out with a rusty knife, after week of nothingness, she broke down. She'd barely had enough time to get to a bathroom to vomit whatever little her stomach had held and proceeded to fall into a state of hysterics, screaming and clawing at her skin in the empty cubicle, her nightgown soaked with sweat and bare feet kicking at the walls.

Now that she'd 'calmed' somewhat, she'd come out of the bathroom and found it was night, the tower lights dimmed and no one in the hallways. Restless, she'd made her way to the eleventh floor, needing the comfort of life after so long without that when she reached it tears had started streaming down her cheeks as she got trembling handfuls of flowers, holding the delicate blossoms to her face and inhaling the scent.

Following the sounds of running water, she stumbled to the lake, mutely staring at the phantoms that seemed to dance under the reversed rainbows in the darkened sky. Strange that she found the sight of such apparitions more comforting that frightening - her people had been dead and not even their ghosts had left whispers behind. The phantoms let her be as she stumbled into the lake, dropping several flowers in the process and letting the little blossoms float around her in the rippling water. Soon the water was to her knees and she felt some relief in the cold she could feel seeping up her legs, contrasting with the warm air around her, but it wasn't enough. She felt numb and soon she was crushing the flowers in her hands, nails digging into her palms as she began to have another panic attack, breath coming faster and louder.

Comments

[myblueskies]

It was dark, Romeo wasn't scared of course; not of the dark or the thunder. But it did make doing things a little bit difficult, he came down the staircase onto floor eleven, gripping his knife in his pocket in case one of the ghosts tried to hurt him when a flash of lightning lit up the room.

He gasped when he saw miss France, she was back! His relief was followed by worry because what was she doing in the water? "Miss France?" He ran towards her.

[champagnedelis]

Francisca didn't notice him, eyes fixated on the water as she tried to force down the panic attack. More petals scattered into the air around her and she stepped further into the water, the shock of more cold making her gasp and step away from the edge of panic. Intent to stay that way, she started humming to herself, trying to keep her breathing even and mind clear.

A vain attempt but better than nothing.

[myblueskies]

Romeo frowned, that wasn't like miss France at all, what had happened? Was she hurt? What had the bad people done to her? He waded into the water and wrapped his arms around her, "Miss France, what happened?"

[champagnedelis]

The humming stopped and Francisca glanced down at Romeo, expression dazed as she seemed to calm and smile. "Oh hello Romeo. Are you a ghost too?"

[myblueskies]

Romeo looked scared for a moment, but he had to keep his spirits up! And help miss France keep hers up too! "No miss, I'm not a ghost," he reached out his hand. "You'll get cold if you stay in the water miss."

[knightime]

"I'm sure the flowers don't appreciate being crushed."

Dave almost didn't approach her. He didn't know how to comfort. Add another thing to shit he can't do to his list. Still. He could try. Trying wouldn't make it worst, right? And she was nice to him and he wanted to help somehow. He was floating a few inches off the ground, taking full advantage of the powers of god tier hood as much as possible. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it again.

This was a terrible idea. "Want to talk about it?" Ugh no. That was a shitty thing to say. Who wants to actually talk about the shit that keeps happening? No one. "I mean, company. You want company?"

[champagnedelis]

At the sound of his voice she slowly turned to face him, panic attack momentarily stifled, and her expression remained blank when she saw him floating off the ground. Her eyes turned sad and her voice was a broken croak from her day of screaming as she asked resignedly, "Are you dead too, mon cher?"

[knightime]

He drops back to the ground, eyebrow slightly raised. "No? If you mean I've died before, yeah. This place kind of does that. The whole, welp you're dead except now you're not shtick. It's getting pretty old. Guess you missed the battle royale in the labyrinth or whatever. It was a trainwreck anyways and not worth watching," he replied with a bit of a mumble. He's not really interested in talking about it at all.

"I don't think I asked yet. You okay? You're looking pretty shitty and you sound like crap. I mean. You don't usually sound like crap or anything. Just, you kind of look like someone punched your puppy and then shat on it without apologizing or something."

[champagnedelis]

It's odd that she feels more unsettled with him on the ground than when he was floating. Weren't ghosts meant to stay floating? Or something...? She should have paid more attention to America's rants on paranormal activity.

"You... died again?" she asked dazedly, not completely understanding his mini-rambling. Puppies were mentioned, though she doesn't know why.

A hand flew up to her throat, realizing how horrible her voice sounded. More flowers fell, some fluttering in the air before landing in her hair.

[thisclinchesit]

Call it crazy, call it foolish - call it whatever you want, Shoutarou was out and about in the darkness as well. He was restless. Too many questions were about and unanswerable at the given time, and Philip was gone again. Terui was still here, though - the comfort of that was questionable, given the nature of this place.

His mind wouldn't shut off, so he thought it best to occupy it with something. Patrols. Looking to make sure everything was okay - as okay as it could be, anyway.

Reaching the eleventh floor, he steps off of the stairs, and the figure he sees out in the water seems familiar.

"...Francisca?"

[champagnedelis]

Francisca didn't hear him, her breath coming faster until they were choked little sobbing gasps for air, more flowers tumbling into the water as she gripped her arms in a pathetic mockery of a hug. Nails dug in, easily scratching over pale flesh and leaving bloody trails behind.

[thisclinchesit]

"Francisca? Oi!"

That reaction - or lack thereof - prompted Shou into action. He stumbled away from the steps, and moved at a quick pace. Once he hit the water, he didn't slow down much, so if his yelling on the way there didn't get her attention, maybe the loud splashing would.

[champagnedelis]

When the water shifted with ripples from his splashes, Francisca glanced back then stared, turning completely and falling back into the water. Her skin paled further and she sat there, gaping at him and beginning to tremble hard. "Sh-Sho-"

[amant]

The Tower giveth and the Tower taketh away.

It had been a hard month. He had been submitted to a game where he was prey (that had ended poorly), and when he had awoken Francisca had been gone. He had checked for her, looked for her, and mourned the moments that did not have her soft glances in his direction in them. She'd been one of the few good things here, something he could pour himself into and not fear repercussion. There were no games.

He'd caught her walking toward the staircase by chance, just a glimpse of silvery hair and pale gown. She'd looked like an illusion -- one he'd been too shocked to stop himself from following. Part of him was scared though, that she would disappear again if he spoke up. It was a fear that left him trailing behind in those dimly lit halls, too transfixed to really worry about the creepy crawlies that wanted to claw off his skin in the shadows.

It isn't until he's barefoot in a patch of flowers, watching his other half walking out into the lake, that some of the magic righted itself and a nagging worry began to lurk just under the surface. Francis wasn't stupid; he knew what hid itself just under the water; things that would snatch and possess and never let go and he refused to chance losing this one again.

He called after her, his voice sounding foreign and dampened by the floor, so he called again as he made his way toward her.

"Get out of there! It is dangerous!"

[champagnedelis]

Francisca gave no indication that she'd heard him, shoulders shaking from how hard she was breathing. Her legs seemed to lose strength and she sank down to her knees, suddenly up to her chest in water.

The shock of the cold seemed to snap her from one daze to another, noticing the flowers that had fallen into the water. She lurched forwardly, grabbing for the blossoms and thus slowly crawling forward.

[amant]

If that was the response he'd have gotten to calling for her he would have done it sooner-- and leave it to him to curse quietly in spite of himself that he'd failed and the woman was being insufferably stubborn. It's not his place though. His place was wrapped around that woman's little finger. Unfortunately.

He did not know how deep the lake was, or how fast it dropped off, but logic had no place in the tower. Not with a floor with a fully developed forest, no. It could go for miles underneath the surface, and Francisca's trance had him aware that she'd hardly fight it by swimming and saving herself.

Consider the man plagued by tunnel vision. Francis was quiet on the approach until he could feel the cool water around his ankles. Not close enough. His pants clung to his calves as he ventured further until she was within reach; dipping down to grip her around her ribs to keep her from rolling forward, pulling her back against his legs with a possessive grip. It's not completely sure to him if the trance would have her denying him, but it was all he could do to try.

"Francisca. Talk to me. Please--"

[champagnedelis]

Francisca yelped when she was dragged back, struggling half-heartedly to get away from her assailant. But then, as she was pulled against Francis' legs, she could smell something in his body scent that reminded her of France, her France. Not the smell of smoke, burnt flesh and mould, but something comforting, faint as it was from Francis' long stay at the Tower. That combined with his velvety voice, and she broke down, tears streaming from her face as she turned to cling to him as best she could, sobbing like a child as her fingers twined into his shirt, the forgotten flowers falling around them.

THIS IS LATE I'M SORRY

[keepscalm]

England hated this floor. Something about the phantoms felt like they sapped the remaining life frozen within him, the last preserved memoir he had of his people. They made him feel weaker. Hollow. As a nation, hollowness hurt. And it made him feel vulnerable.

But, surely, he did not feel as vulnerable as the woman in the water. This was the second time he'd be conversing with her somewhere that she could drown. That was just unfair. It was hard to talk someone down in front of something that you yourself fear. At first, she appeared merely disoriented. Only when he saw her fingers crush the delicate petals resting in her palms did England approach in earnest, his voice ringing clear and level through the dissonant beauty of the floor, despite his unease.

"Francisca."

IT'S COOL!

[champagnedelis]

At his call she'd turned with a fierce snarl, easily slipping into a balanced position to fight with her hands. It took a moment for her eyes to clear - somewhat - and for her to relax back into a normal standing position. She cradled the flowers to her chest once more and frowned, staring at England with wary eyes.

"... Are you real?" she asked in a quiet voice. "No, don't answer that, even if you weren't real you'd pretend to be real," she muttered, shaking her head and frowning, backing up into the water.

[keepscalm]

England didn't flinch at her response -- he was still a safe distance from her even if she did choose to attack him. There would be time to retaliate or run. The island nation's lips twisted in a grimace at her response. He dared to move closer following her question; he was confident that he could take her in fisticuffs if it came to it. And if she fought anything like his France did.

"I think the question is, are you?" he returned with a note of offense, folding his arms primly over his chest. "Because the Francisca I know would not reduce herself to this."

It was harsh, but that was the only way England knew how to deal with France. He could only hope that her pride in her nation would overtake whatever was plaguing her mind.

[champagnedelis]

Francisca blinked and tilted her head thoughtfully. "... That's a good point. Perhaps this is all a dream then?"

She turned away from him, as if forgetting he was there, and waded into the water purposefully, arms dropping to her side and flowers trailing in her wake.

[sovietbear]

Honestly Ivan didn't know what had brought him to this floor. But he was getting tired. Tired of being trapped in this tower, tired of feeling the stunning emptiness of not being connected to his people, tired of everything in the tower, having mostly kept to himself the past year with the occasional attempt to talk to someone else. Of course it had been a long year, and it did not look as if it were going to end anytime soon. Usually when life gave him lemons he would just drink the problems away--this time he couldn't, because the tower had not just trapped him in body, but it had trapped him in sobriety too. His liver might have thanked them, but he certainly did not.

It took a lot to break him and he wasn't broken yet, but the tower was slowly chipping at him and he was tired. His eyes scanned the sky, wishing he had something, anything to get himself back home and it wasn't until he saw the tiny movement from the corner of his eye that he looked up, pulled himself from his thoughts. "Frantsiya?" he asked, before slowly moving forward, watching the phantoms sprouting up, ghostly images.

He moved to the water to the edge, brows furrowing--what on earth was the smaller nation trying to accomplish?

"Frantsiya? Are you alright...?" Which was a stupid question because she was obviously anything but alright. He could see that clearly, the tear tracks on her face, falling down her cheeks. He slowly moved, slightly into the water, boots keeping the water out more or less, keeping it from soaking into his feet. "I am not thinking this is a very good place to be at night... In the water I am meaning... You are tiny and I am not knowing if they are... ah, under water too?"

He paused a moment.

"You are crushing your flowers. Come here and we will be getting you more?"

[champagnedelis]

She jumped at his voice, whirling around to stare up at him with wide, fearful eyes. Somewhere in the back of her mind it registered that she knew him, but in that instant she was locked in the destroyed France and all she could do was stare at him, realizing that this giant of a man could easily crush her with his two hands.

As he said, she was tiny, compared to him. Compared to this Tower.

When he mentioned the flowers though, she jerked out of her trance, staring down at the crushed flowers in her arms. "Oh no..." she whispered, spreading her hands and watching the destroyed blossoms tumble into the water.

[sovietbear]

Ivan could notice the fear in the other's eyes, the terror there, and his expression only grew more sympathetic. This France was not doing well, not as well as he would have liked anyway. He gave her a gentle smile, slowly moving a little closer, letting out a breath, coming within arms reach listening to her words without much thought. When he got close enough he offered her a hand, hoping she would take it. Hoping that she wasn't afraid of him. After all, he hadn't done anything against her, he was sure.

"We can be getting you new flowers. We get you new flowers. Is okay," he replied, and nodded a little bit, letting out a soft breath, hoping she would come with him. He didn't much like the idea of leaving her out in the cold water alone. Especially not when she looked so broken. So fragile.

[champagnedelis]

Swallowing hard, her hand trembled as she reached out to take the offered one, slowly remembering who Ivan was. His hand was warm, far warmer than her icy one and she found herself sighing with relief - surely ghosts didn't produce heat?

With the decimated France still overlaying the serene - if not surreal - landscape of the Tower floor, Francisca slowly moved closer to Ivan.