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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"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-"

Ivan was grimacing more and more, cheeks flushing--he honestly couldn't think of anything funny about the situation. While he loved his sisters very much, both his sisters, he still could say they were a bit of trouble at points. "She is not unintelligent when it is coming to the ways of breaking into my house," he replied, frowning.

"There there, it is her way of showing her love for you~" However creepy it might be.

"That is not the kind of love I am wanting from my sister," he replied, grimaced still, looking away, embarrassed.

"Well, that is rather awkward... You have my sympathy, Ivan," she chuckled, petting his shoulder. "It seems you are as quiet and gentle as my own Russe - I must admit, as a man it is quite adorable~"

"Is very awkward!" he replied, shifting slightly. "I am beginning to think that my sister is the only person who is interested like that." He gave a tiny shrug, pouting and looking down at the church floor, looking up at her. "I think that is the only time I have been being called gentle or adorable. When the person calling me that was not very drunk." He gave a sheepish look.

"Oh, I'm sure others are interested in you similarly," she assured him, nudging his shoulder. "Even with our own Russe, though Amelia pretends to hate her so, they really are far closer than I think Belarus would ever manage to get."

"I say it as I see it - given your tall physique with your apparently gentle and shy nature, what else could you be but adorable?"

"I am not so sure," he replied, gave a tiny shrug, unable to really see it. After all, people tended to shy away from him. "Who is Amelia being?" he asked, curious. He only knew the country names for the fem nations that he had met.

"I am tall and big boned--I am not thinking this is so adorable," he replied, rubbing at his nose. Really, he couldn't see it. But he could certainly see his gentleness, even though he slipped up sometimes.

"Amelia is the female America... though I haven't seen her since the blackout." She'd sincerely hoped the girl was alright - knowing how headstrong she could be, she had little doubt the American had gone after the ghosts rather than shy away from them.

She smiled and reached up to tweak his nose gently. "Tall and big boned, ouai, but the gentleness makes you like a... very big teddy bear!" Idly her mind wandered down her usually filthy track as to whether or not Ivan was in proportion all over his body.... And she abruptly stopped and kept smiling sweetly.

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