Francis "Good but Questionable" Bonnefoy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
amant) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2012-12-01 08:01 pm
amant) wrote in towerofanimus2012-12-01 08:01 pm
Entry tags:
fear the reaper
Characters: France [ou], OPEN
Setting: Floor 45, observatory
Format: Either is fine, though I'll be faster with action.
Summary: France is not his usual self after the Tower sent him back to his home for a month.
Warnings: Heavy angst, possible mention of gore and despair. Typical nation without a nation reaction.
For over a year now he had craved the comfort of his home’s rolling hills and the simplicity of a routine outside the tower’s walls. He’d craved it like a man without food or water; deserted with no sign of ever finding what was desperately needed. There was no sign he’d ever break free from this place, but the dream continued. He should have known that his wishes would bite him in the ass, but for so long he’d hoped until even hope seemed pathetic to keep.
November came and the nightmare began.
It was strange, how France had woken up in his bed. In Paris. Something was glaringly wrong. His room, what was left of it, appeared to have caved in some time ago and he’d only just managed to crawl through the debris to find his way out of the building and onto the streets.
The rest he’d care to forget but knew would persist for quite some time. Buildings that had withstood the test of time, through wars and bombast, existed only as charred shells. It had been so silent that he had prayed for any sound of life even if it came in hoarse cries for help. He had found no pity for his heartache which had hit him hard.
The Eiffel Tower had loomed in the horizon like an omen but he had the urge to head that way, hoping that he would find anyone alive. Bodies littered the tree-lined streets, France taking note that there had been no discretion involved in who had been mowed down. Men, women, children—all innocent, had been discarded like ragdolls and left to rot, but for some reason hadn’t.
The Tricolor hung proudly on every post. Stark red, white, and blue stood against grays and brown and death as if to mock him. France had wandered, and searched, and had found nobody that could give him any promise that this was just a lie; some game the tower had decided to play. The collar was even missing from his neck. It was disturbing that he’d become so accustomed to it, that he felt naked without.
Nights were cold and spent alone with only his thoughts to keep him company. He mourned like he had never mourned. He couldn’t sleep for fear that what had swept his land would finally claim him as it had his people. For a month he had existed—because this was not living by any means—pushing himself to keep going. He owed it to those that had lost their life. It was his duty.
December came, and France fell. When he woke up his only wish was that he hadn’t.
He drifted through the too familiar halls until he got to the observatory. No rhyme or reason for it, but once he was there he stayed. It was as cold here as it was in his home but he was already numb, losing daylight in his fugue-like state.
The ghoulish creatures crawling over the outside of the glass took more interest in him as he stood there. Before it would have frightened him but now he was a man truly without a home or purpose and his thoughts twisted until the beings became the lost souls of his people, and that was comforting in itself, really.
Setting: Floor 45, observatory
Format: Either is fine, though I'll be faster with action.
Summary: France is not his usual self after the Tower sent him back to his home for a month.
Warnings: Heavy angst, possible mention of gore and despair. Typical nation without a nation reaction.
For over a year now he had craved the comfort of his home’s rolling hills and the simplicity of a routine outside the tower’s walls. He’d craved it like a man without food or water; deserted with no sign of ever finding what was desperately needed. There was no sign he’d ever break free from this place, but the dream continued. He should have known that his wishes would bite him in the ass, but for so long he’d hoped until even hope seemed pathetic to keep.
November came and the nightmare began.
It was strange, how France had woken up in his bed. In Paris. Something was glaringly wrong. His room, what was left of it, appeared to have caved in some time ago and he’d only just managed to crawl through the debris to find his way out of the building and onto the streets.
The rest he’d care to forget but knew would persist for quite some time. Buildings that had withstood the test of time, through wars and bombast, existed only as charred shells. It had been so silent that he had prayed for any sound of life even if it came in hoarse cries for help. He had found no pity for his heartache which had hit him hard.
The Eiffel Tower had loomed in the horizon like an omen but he had the urge to head that way, hoping that he would find anyone alive. Bodies littered the tree-lined streets, France taking note that there had been no discretion involved in who had been mowed down. Men, women, children—all innocent, had been discarded like ragdolls and left to rot, but for some reason hadn’t.
The Tricolor hung proudly on every post. Stark red, white, and blue stood against grays and brown and death as if to mock him. France had wandered, and searched, and had found nobody that could give him any promise that this was just a lie; some game the tower had decided to play. The collar was even missing from his neck. It was disturbing that he’d become so accustomed to it, that he felt naked without.
Nights were cold and spent alone with only his thoughts to keep him company. He mourned like he had never mourned. He couldn’t sleep for fear that what had swept his land would finally claim him as it had his people. For a month he had existed—because this was not living by any means—pushing himself to keep going. He owed it to those that had lost their life. It was his duty.
December came, and France fell. When he woke up his only wish was that he hadn’t.
He drifted through the too familiar halls until he got to the observatory. No rhyme or reason for it, but once he was there he stayed. It was as cold here as it was in his home but he was already numb, losing daylight in his fugue-like state.
The ghoulish creatures crawling over the outside of the glass took more interest in him as he stood there. Before it would have frightened him but now he was a man truly without a home or purpose and his thoughts twisted until the beings became the lost souls of his people, and that was comforting in itself, really.
no subject
In other words, she had been busy. But not busy enough that she didn't notice France's disappearance. And to be honest... that hurt. A lot. He was one of the first people she met in the tower, and one of the people she was closest to. She worried, when she wasn't occupied with her duties, and that worry ate away at her just as much as her stress did.
So she was obviously relieved when she stepped out onto the observatory floor, wrapped up in a deep purple cloak with a silver hood and crosses emblazoned on it, and spied the familiar blonde-haired man. She wastes no time in running over to him.]
Francis! [But... she pauses when she's only a few feet away, a frown crossing her face. Something was deeply troubling him. That was oh so obvious.] ... What happened...?
no subject
Her voice sounds distant, even with her so close, but he flinches.]
Everything I have ever fought for is gone...
[France doesn't look away from Emilie or her sister, doesn't feel the moisture in his eyes as he steps closer to run a palm over the glass-- but he does feel the guilt.]
Everything. My home has fallen and I could do nothing to save them.
no subject
Gently, she reaches out, laying a hand on his shoulder.]
Can you truly believe that what you saw was real? That it was truly your home? If you were sent back there on the whims of the administrators, then that could have just been something they wanted you to see.
no subject
I told Francisca the same when she was sent home. That it was a ruse. Now I know that it not the case.
[His hand falls away and he watches her reflection in the glass, expression grim]
It reminded me of the aftermath of a terrible battle. One that was lost. My people are gone, Jeanne. [He wipes at his face, wrapping his arms around himself in order to ward away some of the cold he'd only just become truly aware of] I am... just a plaything for those watching over us. We all are. I never realized it so completely though, until now. It is so because we have nowhere else to go.
no subject
So hearing this? It makes her angry. Not at him, but at the administrators.]
That's not true! You're more than just a plaything! [He's a friend. The spirit of her homeland. There's no way he's next to nothing in her eyes!] Francis, you know better than I how badly the people here can manipulate us... who's to say that this isn't just one more trick? That they weren't just doing... something... to make you feel how you felt when you were spirited away from the tower?
[Her other hand is on his other shoulder now as well, and her hold on him is firm. An attempt to be encouraging.] Please, ma patrie, do not let this destroy you.
no subject
I'm being foolish. I pray you never get sent home in the way I was-- then it will be me trying to convince you the horrors are not real.
[France took his eyes off of the windows and the ghouls trailing around, letting out a sigh. Jeanne angry was not something he'd seen often here-- concerned, fretting, righteous - but not quite as angry as she now was. It was almost enough to get him to crush her in a hug but he resists, brushing at her cheek instead]
I am those people as much as they are their own. I can only hope this place falls to the ground before I see that again.
no subject
[Her voice is still stern, but it lost most of its harsh edge when she says that.]
And your hope will not be in vain. Please... believe me when I say that I will find a way to bring this tower crumbling down. I will do everything in my power to accomplish this... to free you and all the others.
[She would use her Noble Phantasm without hesitation if she knew it would work. But... she couldn't know. She couldn't take that risk, not with the massive cost of her ultimate attack...]
no subject
Make sure that you will be among those saved. I will not have you sacrificing yourself.
[Again. Stepping closer he finally wrapped his arms around her whether or not she wants a hug or not. Maybe he just needs a familiar face right now.]
I am a very old man. I have been through worse... I just need time.
no subject
She wills herself to relax, wrapping her arms tightly around him.]
I will try. I still have duties I must attend to, and people I must protect, so my life cannot end here in this tower...
[And there her voice hesitates.] But I cannot promise you that. If what I can do is a major key to freeing everyone in this tower... I will not hesitate.
no subject
Do what you must but do not gamble the chance to be happy. That is all I want.
[He let her go but didn't back away]
The only way I wish to lose you again is if you return to your genuine home. Death is not an option.
[Oh France, it is.]
no subject
The last thing I wish to do is hurt you or the others I've come to care about here. I can reassure you that I am much, much tougher than I was in my first life. [She tries to sound reassuring, but it's really hard to do so when talking about such a subject.]
It will take more than an army and fire to bring me down this time.
no subject
Did anything happen while I was gone, Jeanne? Is everyone safe?
no subject
Aside from that, activity has been as well as one could expect in this place.
no subject
It was this that brought him to stand at the stranger's side, watching the crawling things outside the windows. He held the cloak he'd made closed from the inside with his hands, and after a moment, reached up to lower the hood. He gave France a look of mute sympathy, but didn't say anything to disturb the man if he didn't want to be disturbed. All he needed to be right now, until he knew what the other needed, was a presence, a potential invitation to talk.
no subject
Still, he looks tired and unkempt for the likes of a proud man and that he can't hide. Still, he straightens; squaring his shoulders to appear the part. He'd seen the man's reflection in the window-- he seemed benign enough much to France's relief. Maybe his lips curve upward into a greeting smile, but it could be a trick of the light.
"Come for a little bit of scenery, monsieur? I am afraid it is a cloudy day. Again."
Despite the forced cheer his words sound strangely hallow. He might be good, but he's not that good.
no subject
"...You looked troubled."
no subject
"Perhaps I am. In fact, since you have granted me a bit of directness I will return it. I am more troubled than I have been in a long time, and I have been here a long time."
A year should be nothing. He's been through wars lasting much longer - but that was on his own terms and completely different. France raised a brow.
"Who are you?"
no subject
"My name is Enoch."
no subject
What France is in need of, desperately so, is an ally. In fact he could use as many as possible and forbid him for trying to strike one up now. Before the Tower he would have been fast companions (whether the man wanted it or not) to the other. Unfortunately that hadn't been the case and France regrets it privately.
"France. I am usually in a better state, I promise." Again, he forces a smile, this time achieving it better than his first rather feeble attempt. He'd been through bad things before. He had pride, even though it was bruised and recovering from a month of horror.
"What brings you here, honestly?" He glanced over and saw the bleak panorama he'd been fixated on moments ago, shaking his head as if to clear it and tear his eyes away. "This is not a pleasant place."
no subject
Enoch followed his gaze back outside, watching a creature crawl across the window in front of them. He stifled a shiver with a tightening of his shoulders.
"I was passing through, and I saw the reflection of your face in the window. This place puts a burden on all of us."