towerofanimus | A small thank you

Entry tags:

A small thank you

Characters: Francisca and YOU
Setting: Kitchens
Format: Starting prose but happy to switch to action~
Summary: Francisca decides to make cake for her friends and loved ones in the tower.
Warnings: None (yet)

Tired-looking but immaculately dressed, Francisca set out the ingredients for her cake, the strawberry jam and bowl of fresh strawberries from breakfast joining the lot for garnishing. For a moment she'd stood there, staring at the food and utensils, absently trying to remember how to make a basic cake of all things... She'd chuckled to herself thinking on how England would react at seeing France at a loss in the kitchen of all places, and started making the batter.

After a moment her hands went on auto-pilot, and the familiar feel of a mixing bowl and spoon in her hands was... comforting. As she stirred the batter into smooth submission, her mind recalled her non-present loved ones, a painful tugging in her heart accompanying the memory of their faces, and then she thought on the new friends she'd made here. Warmth seemed to suffuse her, bringing a pleased flush to her cheeks and a content smile to her lips, as she thought absently on how they might enjoy the cake. Small, simple, not the most elegant of 'thank you's, but still.

Without realizing it, she'd started to hum, checking the batter for lumps before pouring it into the prepared cake-pan.

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She kept her gaze down, voice mournful as she answered, "I can't. I was but a girl myself at the time but to see exactly how young you were now..."

Her voice dropped to a whisper, "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you."

"... You do not need to apologize for something you did not do wrong." She slides her hand away from France's, so that she can place that one on the woman's shoulder as well.

"My actions turned the tides of war. What I did, what God directed me to do, eventually led to my nation pulling through and winning this long and bloody conflict."

There's a warm smile on her face as she speaks, and there's no hint of sadness at all in her voice. "It is a little upsetting, that I died when I did. But I am... content. I died knowing I was able to make a difference."

God had long abandoned France, but she didn't verbalize the dark thought, lifting her head to stare at the precious girl's face, her own lips twitching into a sad smile. "Centuries passed and most of the world knows your name. Safe to say, you made an impact."

Her hand rose, trembling slightly as she slowly cupped Jeanne's cheek, expression awed and pained, elated and saddened. "Of all the miracles this Tower could present...?

"I have... had my eyes opened, to some aspects of the modern world. I must say, it is a bit overwhelming to see just how far my legend has spread." Was it any wonder she was able to become a Heroic Spirit?

She jumped a little at the contact, but doesn't pull away. Touching is something she's become a bit unaccustomed to. She had left the hugs and casual contact of her family for the battlefield years before her death, and she obviously had to keep her distance after joining the military. Even in this new life, she lived in solitude, so she's never become re-used to the little things like that.

"I... am afraid I cannot say much more on the subject, but it is no strange spell of the tower's that pulled me from the pages of history." She feels bad for avoiding the subject, but she has a job, and one rule of that job involved her keeping the secrets of the Holy Grail War away from the eyes of non-magi. "My apologies for being vague, but all I can say is that I have a new duty, and that duty is what summoned me into the modern world."

Francisca lowered her hand when Jeanne jumped, closing off her emotions and smiling slightly. "I see... And does this duty- Are you happy?"

"Happy?" Jeanne actually pauses to think about that. It's... certainly not a duty she was expecting. She served the Holy Grail now, not God himself. But her role as Ruler was an important one. Without her, any number of horrible things could happen to the unknowing humans living in Shinjuku.

Some might think that her title is just a glorified referee role. But not her. So finally, the girl nodded. "Yes, I think so. It is a bit strange, I can say that much, but it is a role I am glad to take up."

"Then that's all I need to know," she murmured, smiling more naturally as she stood, dusting off her knees and offering her hands to Jeanne to help her up.

"How long has it been since you arrived in the Tower?"

"Nearly two weeks, I believe." Jeanne said as she took the offered hand. She stood, her actions mirroring France's own as she brushed off her pants - even without the need to do so in modern times, it seems she hasn't been able to kick the habit of dressing in a more masculine way.

"I'd like to say that I'm getting used to the workings of this tower, but that would be a horrible lie."

"Ma belle, I've been here for considerably longer and believe me when I say the chances of that happening are slim at best," she scoffed, absently checking the timer for the cake before resuming staring at Jeanne, a part of her needing to reaffirm continuously that this was real - that Jeanne was real.

Staring... now staring was a thing Jeanne was used to. At least this wasn't a creepy sort of stare. She could deal with that.

"Longer? Just how long have you been here?"

Forever seemed a bit of a dramatic answer, so Francisca answered nonchalantly, "A bit over a year. It does wonders for one's mental well-being."

A year? Jeanne had heard about the experiments, about the cruel games the people in charge liked to play with the ones trapped here. To have endured a year of that...

"... I'm so sorry." She sounds genuinely upset, despite how easily France seemed to brush it off. "But I assure you, I hope to change things soon."

Ah, and there's that spark. That inner flame that shone so brightly, so fiercely, within this girl until the very end.

"You are my homeland, yes? I fought to free you once before. Rest assured, I will once more take up my sword for you - for everyone in this tower - and I will continue to fight until we are free once more!"

A smile grew on Francisca's face as she watched that spark ignite in Jeanne's face. Ah, there was the spirit she'd lost her heart to. "I know you will, but please, don't push yourself too hard."

Her face grew stern and serious, the weight of her year-long stay in the Tower showing. "These people will not simply stop at burning you to ash."

Jeanne gritted her teeth at that. See, that was the downside to being a Heroic Spirit... retaining the memories up to and including her death. But she didn't let that thought bother her for more than a second.

"It took facing down an army as the last soldier on the battlefield to capture me. I am much stronger now than I was half a millennium ago... believe me when I say that I will not allow myself to be trapped again."

Oh, and there's that stubbornness, enough to rival even the angriest bulls. Missed that as well?

Surprisingly, yes.

Francisca shook her head, putting her hands on Jeanne's shoulders - strange, she'd seemed taller when Francisca was younger.

"It's not that I don't believe you," she insisted, voice gentle but firm. "It's that these people in charge of this cursed place have powers beyond our wildest dreams. Know your enemy before you throw yourself into battle."

Pouting isn't quite the word to use for Jeanne's current expression, given the serious tone of the conversation... but she does look a bit disappointed that she's pretty much being told to stand down.

"I will... wait to gather as much information as I can," She said, a bit reluctantly. "But if you know me well, like it seems you do... you should know that I do not like staying idle for too long. If something does happen, an experiment or any sort of strike against those confined here... I will not stay back and simply watch it happen."

Francisca nodded, giving Jeanne's shoulders a gentle squeeze before releasing her. She thought on the horrors she'd seen and lived through in the Tower, and put a hand over her mouth, turning her gaze away from Jeanne because she could easily imagine the same torture being inflicted on her long-lost angel. Having bits of her body skinned and hollowed out, forced to remain alive and to truly feel the pain, or being forced into one of the Tower's deadly games where the only outcome was death of the body... or the soul.

Her hand curled into a white-knuckled fist on the counter and she evenly said, "You are now in Hell, ma petite - steel your heart."

She turned her attention to the strawberries she'd brought out for the cake, and briskly picked up the knife, quickly cutting the bright red fruit into quarters. Her lips curled in a small smile as she noted that even though she was suddenly so afraid for Jeanne, her hands were completely steady.

Jeanne's heart twists a bit at the woman's pain. Ha... it's strange. They had only just met, and yet she feels so connected to her already. Is it normal, she wonders, for one to feel that way when meeting someone who claims to be your country?

Maybe it wasn't normal, but Jeanne was always very spiritually in-tune with things, what with hearing the words of God's messengers and all. That probably factored into it.

"Trust me, I will be ready." She said, nodding. And, because it seemed like France didn't want to focus on these things anymore, she smiled.

"Would you like help with that?"

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A small thank you

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