towerofanimus | 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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Francisca brightened at first at the interest given in herself - well, her nation self - but then stopped short of gushing about the wonders of France. Moments ago she'd been mourning the possible death of England and now she was about to rattle on about herself?

Disgusting.

In a quiet and venom-filled voice, she answered, "France... is a petty and vain nation. France believes herself to be the most beautiful of all the nations in the world when she is nothing but a painted harlot seeking to claim everyting as hers' while ignoring the wishes and pains of those around her-"

She froze mid-rant and coughed into her hand, falling into awkward silence.

Her first, gut reaction was to simply stand and wait for the scolding to be through. It occurred to Nagi several words late that it wasn't directed at the black-haired girl, but at the woman's home. Melancholy could make one critical...but of their home? Sure, the letters had claimed that their worlds were destroyed, but...surely nobody believed such nonsense.

Then something else hit her, making Nagi visibly gasp, no attempt even to hide her emotions. "Oh!" This woman...the only time someone had spoken so critically and emotionally about their home was Akijiro, and he had also claimed to be the village itself. In short, this woman must have been an important political figure in France. Francisca's despair suddenly made all the more sense to Nagi, who bowed her head, heedless of any remaining awkward.

"I am sorry you lost your beloved country. I imagine I would be much the same, if Japan were truly lost."

"France is not lost - though I wish I were!" she snapped, irrate. "England deserved to survive, not the petty bitch of a neighbor she has!"

She took a deep breath and smoothed out the front of her skirt with slightly shaking hands. "... I apologize. I... don't usually lose my composure so easily."

"No one country holds priority over another. We cannot pin the blame on ourselves for surviving." This was a matter she'd already tried to help someone through before- and while that had failed, Nagi had to try again. "Especially with our captors being so clearly wrong about the process of our being here." That came out almost bitter, as if she too was irritated under the surface.

"But you still need not apologize. This is something we all must go through, in theory, by being here. I'm sorry I interrupted your singing." Nagi pursed her lips, as if looking for more appropriate words...but none came out.

Francisca sighed and gave a tired smile to Nagi. "Likewise, you need not apologize. It was a song that shouldn't have been sung, nor would I have if I were in my right mind." No, funereal songs should be reserved for when she knows for certain that England is dead, not a moment before.

Nagi gave a quiet laugh, turning sideways to try and convey she wasn't laughing at Francisca. "I will refrain from apolgoizing, then, or we will simply continue to cycle." It amused her mostly because of the many discussions she'd had with Akane back home...and how poor Tae had tried to scold them both.

"I am not the best with consoling others...but, I hope your heart will find peace, Bonnefoy-san." Nagi bowed her head lightly, crossing her hands at her thigh, matching the smile, though now equally tired. "Then you can sing much happier things."

"Such is the nature of apologies, they just go on and on and on until we are blue in the face!" Francisca exclaimed, standing and dusting her knees, straightening her skirts.

"You listened to my short rant - that is more of a consolatory action than you would think," she murmured, smiling. "Perhaps... in any case, I think I should go take a nap. Things are always better when you feel refreshed, non?"

As she turned to walk out of the room, she gave Nagi a kiss on each cheek in farewell, murmuring, "Thank you for listening."

"I understand. Please, have a good sleep-...?"

Nagi's face grew blank at the cheek kisses, turning to watch Francisca leave.

...Europeans had some peculiar and awkward methods of 'au revoir'.

Le désespoir

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