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.]
no subject
It's alright! Don't worry about it! I wouldn't mind making you a French flag! It wouldn't be a waste of time. After all, it would make you happy, and it would show whoever did this that even after a burning and a beating, the French, and people as a whole can still stand up and fight back!
no subject
That is right, ma petite! But, do me a favor. [He nudged her shoulder with the back of his hand.] Tell that to the pessimistic pigdog and his little boy, would you?
[He was talking about England and America, of course. England more so, but America would grow up to coin the phrase "cheese-eating surrender monkey," so France had to curb that right away.]
no subject
Don't worry! I'll do my best to cheer up England and America! I didn't know that there was a little America here though. The one I met here looked bit older, in his teens or late twenties.