Francis Bonnefoy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
silencetoreason) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2013-05-10 05:22 pm
silencetoreason) wrote in towerofanimus2013-05-10 05:22 pm
Entry tags:
{Deux} Passe Et Disparaît
Characters: France and you!
Setting: Floor 1 (the cafeteria), floor 82 (the masked ballroom), floor 45 (the observatory), and floor 5 (thenation trap viewing station floor). The cafeteria and ballroom prompts can be backdated up to May 1st (possibly a tad earlier for the ballroom prompt), so feel free to let me know if you have a specific date in mind.
Format: Starting with action, but I'll match you.
Summary: France delights in the slew of new ingredients in the cafeteria, and sets his sights on making some real meals for both himself and the people in the Tower. Then, he continues his explorations.
Warnings: France being a huge flirt, and talk of worlds being destroyed and all that fun stuff.
Floor 1
[Step into the cafeteria, and you'll find that one man is making it a particularly lively place this month. France constantly has his arms full, be it of ingredients or utensils, and he's always humming some tune or another under his breath. He's absolutely overjoyed that those terrible protein bars are nowhere to be seen, and he moves from one place to another swiftly, like he's afraid the ingredients will be taken from him at any moment.
The dishes he makes are one part recipes he already knows, and one part experimental dishes. Luckily, France has enough culinary skill to make even experiments tasty. He seems to be running with the flower theme, too, decorating the kitchen, his hair, and his plates with flower petals, and incorporating some of the flowers into his food.
As soon as he spots anyone, he offers up what he's made with a smile. His food looks like it's come straight out of a gourmet Parisian restaurant.]
Oi! You there! Comment allez-vous? Care for a bite of real food, hmm? Big brother's made a lot of it!
Floor 82
[He's been exploring a lot recently. His first encounter with the monsters on floor 97 had him a bit apprehensive, but after experimenting with the different stops on the elevator and making sure to be back in his dorm well before nightfall, he's actually made some decent progress. This floor, where a masquerade is constantly taking place, has proven to be one of his favorites. He dances easily, centuries of experience in ballrooms under his belt, twirling around ladies and men alike with all the grace of a noble from Versailles.
It doesn't matter that he doesn't know their names and can't see their faces. It doesn't matter that nobody will recognize him on this floor. France loses himself in the dance, floating around the ballroom like a piece of driftwood through waves, and he can almost pretend that he's back home for a little while.
Though he rarely gets a reply, France greets each new dance partner the same way.]
Oh my, you look lovely! Care for a dance?
Floor 45
[France decides to relax on an innocent-looking floor after a while of exploration. He sits by the windows, staring out at the clouds, and looks lost in thought for a few moments.
That is, until one of the faceless humanoids crawls up and sets its sights on him, at which point France proceeds to freak the fuck out.]
Gyah-!
[He falls backward and away from the window, scrambling into the middle of the room. The creature slams its hand against the window a few times, but it doesn't break the glass. It can't break it, but France doesn't know that, so he cowers near the staircase, eyes locked on the thing.]
No! What is that? Oh, dieu, I hate this place so much..!
Floor 5
[When he decides to wander up the staircase from the cafeteria, he's generally pleased with what he finds. An infirmary. A library. A peaceful lounge, notably free of any abominations from Hell.
He starts to tread more cautiously when he gets to floor 5.
He creeps around the security area, occasionally greeting the drones, but of course, they don't reply. The technology in the room is staggering, and just looking at all the different screens and lights and buttons and dials makes France's head spin. He never was a huge fan of technology. Much to his displeasure, it seemed like everything in the Tower was worlds beyond the technology back at home.
He stops in front of the curious-looking viewing stations. He glances over his shoulder to see if anyone takes note, and when nobody does, he leans over to look inside.
Immediately, he feels like he's just been hit over the head by a ton of bricks.
It's dead. His planet is dead. Every soul, every breath of life, it's all wiped out, gone, from the coastal towns on the Strait of Dover to the little villages that sit in the shadows of the Pyrénées. He can't even attempt to lose himself in denial, because the certainty of it is suffocating him, keeping him rooted to the spot for much longer than he'd like. The viewer pans around the ghastly sight, and it's too much all at once, too much death and destruction, too many questions, because he shouldn't even exist if this is what has become of his country, he's nauseous, he can't breathe, he should be dead-
France uses all of his willpower to rip himself away from the viewer, and he falls to the floor next to it, curling in on himself like a frightened animal. His hands splay over his face, and the first breath he draws in is ragged, tearing through his lungs and burning as if he'd been on the verge of drowning a moment ago. Tears wet his face each time he blinks, and he blinks quite a lot, willing the image of his ruined world out of his head.]
Ah.
[He can't even sob. He's too stunned. He presses the butts of his palms to his cheekbones and keeps his knees drawn to his chest, mouth hanging wide open. He can't bring himself to pretend like he isn't devastated.]
Setting: Floor 1 (the cafeteria), floor 82 (the masked ballroom), floor 45 (the observatory), and floor 5 (the
Format: Starting with action, but I'll match you.
Summary: France delights in the slew of new ingredients in the cafeteria, and sets his sights on making some real meals for both himself and the people in the Tower. Then, he continues his explorations.
Warnings: France being a huge flirt, and talk of worlds being destroyed and all that fun stuff.
Floor 1
[Step into the cafeteria, and you'll find that one man is making it a particularly lively place this month. France constantly has his arms full, be it of ingredients or utensils, and he's always humming some tune or another under his breath. He's absolutely overjoyed that those terrible protein bars are nowhere to be seen, and he moves from one place to another swiftly, like he's afraid the ingredients will be taken from him at any moment.
The dishes he makes are one part recipes he already knows, and one part experimental dishes. Luckily, France has enough culinary skill to make even experiments tasty. He seems to be running with the flower theme, too, decorating the kitchen, his hair, and his plates with flower petals, and incorporating some of the flowers into his food.
As soon as he spots anyone, he offers up what he's made with a smile. His food looks like it's come straight out of a gourmet Parisian restaurant.]
Oi! You there! Comment allez-vous? Care for a bite of real food, hmm? Big brother's made a lot of it!
Floor 82
[He's been exploring a lot recently. His first encounter with the monsters on floor 97 had him a bit apprehensive, but after experimenting with the different stops on the elevator and making sure to be back in his dorm well before nightfall, he's actually made some decent progress. This floor, where a masquerade is constantly taking place, has proven to be one of his favorites. He dances easily, centuries of experience in ballrooms under his belt, twirling around ladies and men alike with all the grace of a noble from Versailles.
It doesn't matter that he doesn't know their names and can't see their faces. It doesn't matter that nobody will recognize him on this floor. France loses himself in the dance, floating around the ballroom like a piece of driftwood through waves, and he can almost pretend that he's back home for a little while.
Though he rarely gets a reply, France greets each new dance partner the same way.]
Oh my, you look lovely! Care for a dance?
Floor 45
[France decides to relax on an innocent-looking floor after a while of exploration. He sits by the windows, staring out at the clouds, and looks lost in thought for a few moments.
That is, until one of the faceless humanoids crawls up and sets its sights on him, at which point France proceeds to freak the fuck out.]
Gyah-!
[He falls backward and away from the window, scrambling into the middle of the room. The creature slams its hand against the window a few times, but it doesn't break the glass. It can't break it, but France doesn't know that, so he cowers near the staircase, eyes locked on the thing.]
No! What is that? Oh, dieu, I hate this place so much..!
Floor 5
[When he decides to wander up the staircase from the cafeteria, he's generally pleased with what he finds. An infirmary. A library. A peaceful lounge, notably free of any abominations from Hell.
He starts to tread more cautiously when he gets to floor 5.
He creeps around the security area, occasionally greeting the drones, but of course, they don't reply. The technology in the room is staggering, and just looking at all the different screens and lights and buttons and dials makes France's head spin. He never was a huge fan of technology. Much to his displeasure, it seemed like everything in the Tower was worlds beyond the technology back at home.
He stops in front of the curious-looking viewing stations. He glances over his shoulder to see if anyone takes note, and when nobody does, he leans over to look inside.
Immediately, he feels like he's just been hit over the head by a ton of bricks.
It's dead. His planet is dead. Every soul, every breath of life, it's all wiped out, gone, from the coastal towns on the Strait of Dover to the little villages that sit in the shadows of the Pyrénées. He can't even attempt to lose himself in denial, because the certainty of it is suffocating him, keeping him rooted to the spot for much longer than he'd like. The viewer pans around the ghastly sight, and it's too much all at once, too much death and destruction, too many questions, because he shouldn't even exist if this is what has become of his country, he's nauseous, he can't breathe, he should be dead-
France uses all of his willpower to rip himself away from the viewer, and he falls to the floor next to it, curling in on himself like a frightened animal. His hands splay over his face, and the first breath he draws in is ragged, tearing through his lungs and burning as if he'd been on the verge of drowning a moment ago. Tears wet his face each time he blinks, and he blinks quite a lot, willing the image of his ruined world out of his head.]
Ah.
[He can't even sob. He's too stunned. He presses the butts of his palms to his cheekbones and keeps his knees drawn to his chest, mouth hanging wide open. He can't bring himself to pretend like he isn't devastated.]
no subject
[Again, not his style.]
no subject
[France sets his other hand on the man's waist, and he begins to lead him through the steps with a relaxed sort of grace. He moves around other dancing couples like they aren't even there, letting the music be his guide. All the while, he's getting a feel for his new partner's style, and adjusting his own steps accordingly.]
no subject
Are you well, sir?
no subject
I can't say I've ever been in a situation like this before, but all things considered... Yes, I am.
[It's not the whole truth, because the things he saw last month are still fresh in his mind, and he's still fairly apprehensive about the Tower. But this floor is one for wearing masks and forgetting problems, so France doesn't elaborate, nor does he give any other clue that he's in a less-than-perfect mood.]
And you?
no subject
[He was alive, he had people who cared about him who he didn't have to kill. He was okay.]
no subject
[France spins the two of them around in a wide arch, and then, when he stops, he tugs on the other man's waist to bring them closer together than what might have been proper for the dance. He does it all so naturally, without even thinking about it first, that it's clear he's done this to more than one person before.]
...It's one I hold very close to my heart, as a matter of fact.
no subject
It's true. You can get angry, and you can change things while you're angry - but being sad doesn't help at all, and anger hurts as much as it helps. I prefer determination.
no subject
[He stops suddenly and, if he meets no resistance, dips his dancing partner low to the ground. His lips hover a bit too close to the other man's, and he winks.]
...love. It's much stronger than everything else.
no subject
Yes, I like that too. But my love is saved most of all for my girlfriend.
[Sorry man.]
no subject
WELP.
France stutters a bit, but once it sinks in, he hardly lets this new realization deter him. If anything, it only energizes him more, albeit in a different way than before. He lifts the man back up, giving a carefree laugh.]
Oh, a girlfriend? Wonderful! [As if on cue, it seems even the music is picking up in pace to match France's steps.] You see? Love prevails even in a place like this. How grand!
no subject
How could I not? This place hasn't stopped her from being the most wonderful woman I've ever met.
no subject
Oh, stop, you'll make this old man's heart burst! [He doesn't really mean that, of course, as is evidenced when he asks:] Tell me about her, won't you?
no subject
She's amazing. I've never met anyone like her.
[Aleph feels a little like cooing himself.]
no subject
Magnificent! It must be fate! [He hugs the other man to his chest and spins around.] God exists even in this world, I'm sure!
no subject
no subject
A hateful God? I can't fathom it. My God has enough love for worlds upon worlds worth of people, my dear, so I'm sure He'll share His love with the two of you.
[He's never actually met his God, of course, but France's faith is nigh unshakable.]
no subject
[Aleph Does Not Like God, but he's willing to accept that other places are luckier in that department.]
no subject
Oh, how charming... [He frowns.] You must come from quite an interesting world.
no subject
[Aleph shrugs and takes off his mask. Either he doesn't know about the truth-telling effect or he doesn't care.]
I'm Aleph.
no subject
I'm France.
[Wow, that came out faster than he intended it to. Normally, he introduces himself as "Francis." Perhaps the dancing got to his head. But, for whatever reason, he finds that he doesn't feel the need to correct himself.]
Very nice to meet you, sir.
no subject
[Guess who doesn't recognize that as the name of the country? Aleph.]
You dance well.
no subject
Merci, love. As do you.
[Small comforts: France isn't just being polite, apparently. He's not too stuck up to enjoy dancing with Aleph.]
no subject
[It's not that you're old, France. It's that you're old and Aleph is a bitty.]