towerofanimus | Le désespoir

Entry tags:

Le désespoir

Open to all!
Setting: Floor 13
Format: Either~
Summary: Francisca reflects on the blackout and sings a hymn... as goodbye to her world.
Warnings: Angst, potential language

The voices were still whispering in her ears, her memory of the blackout far too keen. Her body still felt weighed down and tired from that far-too-close encounter with the not-England.

But England's voice had been too real.

She'd been trying to believe that England was alive - that this whole Tower business was just an elaborate scheme conjured up by some idiots smoking too much of Pays-Bas' drugs. But... perhaps she was now too tired to even attempt feeling hope.

She'd been strong as Rome and Germania would have expected of her, but even the strongest of defenses would slowly fall under constant fire.

She'd normally avoided this kind of place - too melancholy, too 'holy' for her tastes - but it was an apt setting for what she was about to do.

She moved to the altar, hearing the sudden hush of unheard voices, and took a shuddering breath, staring up at one of the beautifully decorated windows before she haltingly began to sing Pie Jesu, voice pealing out heartbrokenly in the language she'd almost forgotten since her childhood. Her eyes close as hot tears threaten to spill as she continues to sing.

England would have called her a drama-whore for it.

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Well, she had no issues explaining who she was, so she smiled a bit more and answered with a small shrug, "Well, I am France, so I suppose that makes me French anyway, oui?" She glanced down at the now dirtied handkerchief and gave him a sheepish look. "I will clean this before returning it to you, sorry..."

Ivan's brows shot up then, and he gave her a little smile, glancing over her curiously, a little surprised--though he supposed she was enough like the France he knew, at least appearance wise. "You are another one of the women-countries, then, da? So different coming from my world, ah, where you would be a man, but not so different at same time. Is being odd," he replied, and gave a tiny shake of his head. "It is fine. Do not be worrying about it, da? Using if you are being sad again, da?" A pause and then, "You are being okay now, da?"

Francisca tilted her head a bit and examined his face before blinking with surprise. "Oh. Oh-! You must be Russe, oui?"
At his question she glanced back down at the handkerchief, remembered why she'd needed it and hesitated before shrugging her shoulders. "... I will be. I always get better eventually."

Ivan nodded slowly and gave a tiny smile. "Da. I am Russia," he replied, relaxing slightly, watching her and frowning.

"What is the matter? what is upsetting you this much?" He frowned, watching her still, a little concerned. "Yes, yes, you always get better, but that is not meaning you are being okay now."

".... Is...." She licked her lips and continued, "Is your England here?"

Ivan was frowning and he gave a tiny shake of his head. "I do not know," he replied, looking thoughtful. "If he is being, I have not been seeing.... I have only been seeing the Pol'sha from my world, no one else.... Not even sisters.... Ah, but you and Amerika and Kanada from your world are being here, I am knowing for sure," he gave a gentle smile, thoughtful.

"Why are you asking? Is Angliya and me being friends in your world?"

The tiny flicker of hope she'd had flickered out and she gazed down at her hands. "... I see...."

”No, not particularly but... since you arrived later, I was hoping that perhaps either or both of the Englands might have as well..."

Ivan watched her, a curious look on his face, brows furrowed slightly. After a moment, he tipped his head to the side. "Are you two being very close in your world?" he asked, simply curious giving her a tiny smile. "Arriving later...? How long were you being here for...?"

"Ye-... non, we are not..." She bit her lip and added, "But she is my neighbor and I worry about her."

"I've been here for I think a month or more... I lost track of time, but since I had yet to meet you..."

Ivan gave a sheepish look, and nodded. "I am thinking I understand," he replied, and gave a tiny shrug. "I am sure she is being fine. It is good if she is not being here. It is meaning she is still free, da? And maybe she will be rescuing? Was this why you are crying?"

He looked thoughtful, tapping his chin. "I think we are just missing each other, then?" he replied, giving a tiny smile. "But I am thinking any time being here is being long enough."

"I was... because she might be dead..." she murmured before smiling brightly - painfully forced. "Still, I am glad that we did not miss each other this time."

Ivan raised a brow. "Angliya, dead?" he seemed amused by this, because he knew the Brit had a knack for staying alive, no matter what happened. "I do not think you could be killing if you were trying. No worrying. If our England's are anything alike, they are being very hard to kill." He gave a wry smile, moving to ruffle the blond's hair. "I am glad too. It is nice to find another person here that I am liking."

"Well, she is rather tough-" she mused then broke off with a disgruntled yelp at the ruffling, hands immediately shooting up to fix her hair. Still, it was just what she needed to be snapped out of her gloom and doom mood... somewhat.

Ivan gave a little smile to the other. "Mine is a bit of a pain sometimes, with how tough he is being--is very troublesome," he replied, and relaxed a bit with the French nation, glad that he could cheer her up a bit, despite him being not-so-cheery himself, not that he showed anything but his usual smile, of course.

She reached out and tugged on his scarf. "Please, sit with me. Tell me about yourself."

He flinched slightly when she tugged at his scarf, though he followed her directions, sitting down carefully, readjusting the garment. "What is it you are wanting to know?"

She shrugged and smiled at him, propping her chin up in her hands as she watches him. "Anything. Perhaps starting with your name?"

Ivan gave a smile back, looking thoughtful. "Ah, my name is Ivan Braginsky," he replied. He could certainly start with that. "I am little over millenia old. I like warmth, and sunflowers, and good books, and vodka, and ballet, and ice skating, and chess, and making friends, and making people become one with me, and picking on Pol'sha, and my bosses, and my home... I like many things, really. Ah. I do not like invasions, or cold, or being left, or being told no, or marriage, or losing, or... well, I am also not liking a lot of things." He paused, tapping his chin thoughtfully.

Francisca laughed at his rambling response and patted his shoulder gently. "I think that is the case for most people, Ivan. I am guessing the reason you dislike marriage is Belarus?" She then blinks and smiles wider. "Is Belarus a girl in your world?"

Ivan gave a small nod, grimacing, the mention of his sister and marriage in the same sentence causing him to shiver. "Da, da. Because of my sister. And yes, she is girl. She is boy in your world?" he asked, curious.

Francisca stifled her giggles and nodded. "Ouai, Belarus is male in my world - he might be here actually - and he is often.... 'pursuing' his sister for her hand."

"I am not seeing the humour," he gave her a wry look, grimacing. "As long as he is not perusing my hand, I think I am being fine, if he is like my sister. My Belarus is very pretty, but just a little bit... odd.... and very persistent. And very bad for the doors of my home..."

"You never know - since his own Russe is not present, he may turn to you for comfort." She examines her nails and mentions nonchalantly, "Our Belarus is also quite bad for doors... and windows... and the occasional chimney."

Ivan paled. "That would be being silly," he replied, shaking his head, and grimacing, ducking his head down, as if hiding behind his scarf. However, despite his words, he believed her. "That is why my chimney is having a grate over it at top..."

She couldn't take it anymore and burst out laughing, mouth over her hand as she tried to stop, gasping between giggles, "Oh dieu - a grate! Aha, she actually-"

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