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
He could have stuck the landing, but because France likes to make a big deal out of everything, he lets himself lose balance and fall on his ass.]
You sound like you're planning to be attacked. [He groans and rolls over, patting his own butt. He is a classy dude.] Dieu...
no subject
...
Say, how long have you even been here?
[He did seem a little oblivious to some of the things that were just everyday in the tower]
no subject
[France goes pale and swallows a lump in his throat. With overblown difficulty, he pushes to his feet.]
Such an awful outlook. And I have been here for about a month; does it matter?
no subject
Ah, no wonder you don't know anything! Heh, well as a seasoned veteran myself I'll be happy to guide you through this hell hole!
no subject
[He dusts himself off, even though he's not dirty at all. He has to look good, damn it!]
I won't say no to a willing guide. Just... don't get us killed, all right?
no subject
Come on! I'll show you some cool stuff! You like insects?
no subject
Err... I cannot say that they're my favorite things in the world, no offense...
no subject
But there's a room full of 'em downstairs if you wanna see! I spend a lot of time there so if you ever need to find me.
no subject
[Whoops, sorry, Wriggle. Now he's a bit more openly disgusted, if the way he hugs himself and shivers is of any indication.]
no subject