Francis Bonnefoy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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towerofanimus2013-07-14 03:07 pm
silencetoreason) wrote in towerofanimus2013-07-14 03:07 pm
{Quatre} Le jour de gloire est arrivé!
Characters: France and you!
Setting: 3-14 and the dormitory hallways, Floor 1 (the cafeteria), and Floor 78 (the mail room).
Format: Starting with action, but I'll match you.
Summary: It's Bastille Day - or, in other words, France's birthday! Screw all this depressing horrortower junk. He's celebrating! This is basically a catch-all post for France to dick around during his birthday, so feel free to come up with a prompt that's not on the list.
Warnings: France being even more flirty and even more naked than usual. Yes, it's possible. And then some angst in the last prompt.
3-14 and the dormitory halls
[France is up a lot earlier than usual. When he pops out from under the covers, surprise surprise, he's naked. Except for a rose covering his "vital regions," that is. Probably best not to ask how it's attached.
He jumps out of bed and is quick to greet every person he sees - his roommate, the people walking by his dorm room, the worker drones. He doesn't bother to put on clothes before he does this, because why should he? It's his birthday! It's also a Sunday, which is an equally valid excuse.]
Good morning, good morning! Bonjour! How are you doing on this wonderful day~?
Cafeteria
[By the time he's made it down to the cafeteria, he's managed to put clothes on. Barely. It's actually just pants, plus an apron over his bare chest, but whatever. He tried!
He's making himself some food, because, despite being the birthday boy, he really doesn't trust the drones or anyone he knows to make a proper meal. What sets this apart is that he's also making food for everyone else who comes around. He bumps his hips into the cafeteria drones' to nudge them out of the way and make something that's a little less "10-year-old chiq."
Anyone who wanders into the cafeteria for breakfast will find, along with the Tower-provided meals, a spread of French food. There are cream puffs, croissants, crepes; everything's decorated with fruit and presented in a bright, aesthetically-pleasing way. It's all gourmet-quality, the kind that would run a person broke if they tried to buy it in Paris.
Also of note: he's made whipped cream, as well as some syrups out of blueberries and strawberries. There's some blue, white, and red on every plate, reminiscient of a certain flag...
France will occasionally place down another plate of food while humming under his breath. Though there's a lot of it, it's all in tiny, tasteful portions, so you might need to come back for more.]
Mail Room
[France sits by a mail unit with his knees drawn to his chest. He's cradling something in his arms, dragging a finger over it idly like one might do with a pet, but that's not an animal he's holding. It's a tangle of fabric, ripped and stained with blood, blue and white and red.
For now, he's just staring with a far-off look in his eyes. Look closely, and you might see his lower lip quivering.
He doesn't seem to realize he's blocking a bunch of mail boxes.]
Setting: 3-14 and the dormitory hallways, Floor 1 (the cafeteria), and Floor 78 (the mail room).
Format: Starting with action, but I'll match you.
Summary: It's Bastille Day - or, in other words, France's birthday! Screw all this depressing horrortower junk. He's celebrating! This is basically a catch-all post for France to dick around during his birthday, so feel free to come up with a prompt that's not on the list.
Warnings: France being even more flirty and even more naked than usual. Yes, it's possible. And then some angst in the last prompt.
3-14 and the dormitory halls
[France is up a lot earlier than usual. When he pops out from under the covers, surprise surprise, he's naked. Except for a rose covering his "vital regions," that is. Probably best not to ask how it's attached.
He jumps out of bed and is quick to greet every person he sees - his roommate, the people walking by his dorm room, the worker drones. He doesn't bother to put on clothes before he does this, because why should he? It's his birthday! It's also a Sunday, which is an equally valid excuse.]
Good morning, good morning! Bonjour! How are you doing on this wonderful day~?
Cafeteria
[By the time he's made it down to the cafeteria, he's managed to put clothes on. Barely. It's actually just pants, plus an apron over his bare chest, but whatever. He tried!
He's making himself some food, because, despite being the birthday boy, he really doesn't trust the drones or anyone he knows to make a proper meal. What sets this apart is that he's also making food for everyone else who comes around. He bumps his hips into the cafeteria drones' to nudge them out of the way and make something that's a little less "10-year-old chiq."
Anyone who wanders into the cafeteria for breakfast will find, along with the Tower-provided meals, a spread of French food. There are cream puffs, croissants, crepes; everything's decorated with fruit and presented in a bright, aesthetically-pleasing way. It's all gourmet-quality, the kind that would run a person broke if they tried to buy it in Paris.
Also of note: he's made whipped cream, as well as some syrups out of blueberries and strawberries. There's some blue, white, and red on every plate, reminiscient of a certain flag...
France will occasionally place down another plate of food while humming under his breath. Though there's a lot of it, it's all in tiny, tasteful portions, so you might need to come back for more.]
Mail Room
[France sits by a mail unit with his knees drawn to his chest. He's cradling something in his arms, dragging a finger over it idly like one might do with a pet, but that's not an animal he's holding. It's a tangle of fabric, ripped and stained with blood, blue and white and red.
For now, he's just staring with a far-off look in his eyes. Look closely, and you might see his lower lip quivering.
He doesn't seem to realize he's blocking a bunch of mail boxes.]
Mail Room
Sir? Are you all right?
no subject
O-oh, euhh, yes, I am fine! [He's smiling, but his voice is strained.] Pardon me, am I in your way?
[He scrambles to his feet, but keeps the ragged piece of fabric held tightly to his chest.]
no subject
Negative, you are not. I could not help but notice you looked upset. May I help in any way?
[ She stands when he does, noticing the ragged piece of fabric he's holding. She won't ask just yet, but it's definitely noticeable. ]
no subject
Er, it's nothing. [He shuffles where he stands and gives a tiny chuckle.] I was merely overtaken by some, ah, unpleasant memories...
no subject
Do you mind sharing these memories? I find it may help alleviate whatever is weighing down your mind by doing that. You do not have to worry, either, as no one will find out about this either.
no subject
[He casts his gaze down to the item in his hands, uncharacteristically demure.]
I would not want to burden you with such awful thoughts. I am sure you have enough on your plate without needing to listen to my troubles.
no subject
Misery loves company, does it not? I will not judge you at all. Besides, if I can help someone out, then I feel well in the end.
no subject
[It might be nice to talk it out, just a bit. He promises not to let himself get carried away.]
This day is- It is a happy day, in some senses, but in others... [He wrings the piece of fabric in his hands.] ...not so much. It would seem that the Tower would like me to remember the unhappy parts as well, heh...
no subject
[ She leans against the wall of mailboxes he's against and listens to what he says is bothering him. ]
Was it a difficult fight for your freedom, sir?
no subject
That's right.
[His lips remain quirked upward in a smile for a second, but the look in his eyes is far from happy.]
All fights of that nature are inherently difficult. This one, though... I hold it particularly close to my heart. [A beat. The smile fades.] Have you heard of the Reign of Terror, ma cheri?
no subject
I have not. What went on during then?
no subject
[He sighs and looks at some far spot in the mail room as he tries to piece together how to explain it.]
It was a period of time when the people of my country, France, were incredibly unhappy. Very few people - the royal family, the aristocrats - were well-off, but the rest could not even afford bread to eat. This day, we celebrate when those unhappy people took a stand and stormed a prison, the Bastille, to gather arms that they would take up against the leaders they had come to loathe.
[He pauses for a second, and when he goes on, his words are choppy, stilted.]
What followed- It was- There was a very long revolution. [A beat.] A very bloody one.
no subject
Your people are free now, are they not? I am sorry your people had to go through a war like that to obtain their freedom.
no subject
[France sets his hand on top of hers and flashes her a sideways glance. The corners of his lips quirk upward in a smile.]
I just hate to think about the suffering of any of my people, rich or poor. No matter how long ago it happened.
no subject
No one likes to think about it, but your people are very strong to have withstood what they went through to earn their freedom. You should be proud.