France (Francis Bonnefoy) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
paysdelamour) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sirenspull_logs2013-02-06 07:50 pm
paysdelamour) wrote in sirenspull_logs2013-02-06 07:50 pm
Times have changed and times are strange
Who: France and anyone who wants to visit him at the HoA
When: January 6th, after his reappearance in the Port.
Where: The House of Awesome, in the kitchen of the HoA mostly, cooking
Summary: France is back, back again, France is back, tell a friend~ general action log for party times.
Warnings: Frenchiness, lots and lots of fabulous Frenchiness.
It is with a bit of relief that Francis steps into the House, for only the second time since his disappearance, and catches sight of his old room. The mural of Paris, just as he had left it on his bedroom wall, the furnishings - all of it brought up so many memories. While it brought up the many good memories he had in this apartment, it also brought a few rather... unpleasant ones with it. But he had no time for any misery, instead he had many preparations to make. So, he quickly went to work, making his way into the beautiful kitchen he had grown to love as if it were his own.
A few hours later, the smell of phenomenal food floods all the floors of the complx, and the main lobby of the house seems to be ready to expect numerous guests. In the kitchen the blond is happily setting about his work in the kitchen, flitting from one dish to the next with precise timing, garnishing one and pulling another out of the oven. With him is a pretty calico cat, who is content to sit on one of the tables and watch him as he hums, and curiously looking over any guests who happen to make their way into the kitchen.
Feel free to help yourself to some snacks, or take a look in the kitchen for something a bit more substantial.
(( ooc: Use whatever format you want! If you want your character to meet France away from this house party at the HoA, just shoot me a PM and I'll work with you to figure something out. c: ))
When: January 6th, after his reappearance in the Port.
Where: The House of Awesome, in the kitchen of the HoA mostly, cooking
Summary: France is back, back again, France is back, tell a friend~ general action log for party times.
Warnings: Frenchiness, lots and lots of fabulous Frenchiness.
It is with a bit of relief that Francis steps into the House, for only the second time since his disappearance, and catches sight of his old room. The mural of Paris, just as he had left it on his bedroom wall, the furnishings - all of it brought up so many memories. While it brought up the many good memories he had in this apartment, it also brought a few rather... unpleasant ones with it. But he had no time for any misery, instead he had many preparations to make. So, he quickly went to work, making his way into the beautiful kitchen he had grown to love as if it were his own.
A few hours later, the smell of phenomenal food floods all the floors of the complx, and the main lobby of the house seems to be ready to expect numerous guests. In the kitchen the blond is happily setting about his work in the kitchen, flitting from one dish to the next with precise timing, garnishing one and pulling another out of the oven. With him is a pretty calico cat, who is content to sit on one of the tables and watch him as he hums, and curiously looking over any guests who happen to make their way into the kitchen.
Feel free to help yourself to some snacks, or take a look in the kitchen for something a bit more substantial.
(( ooc: Use whatever format you want! If you want your character to meet France away from this house party at the HoA, just shoot me a PM and I'll work with you to figure something out. c: ))
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He turns back to his culinary work, speaking over his shoulder now as he does.]
Mais, it does not matter much now, non? The important point is that we are here, right now. Carpe diem, and all such pithy sayings like it - even they have their truths. There must be a reason they keep being passed down throughout the years, oui?
[He does give a little shrug of his shoulders at Enjolras' comments about his handsomeness, delicately stirring the coq au vin and sipping at it. Deciding it satisfactory, he delicately pulls out a small piece of chicken from the stew, and offers it to the calico.] Voilà, Liliane! Your treat. [She hops up onto the counter, sniffs at it a few times, before taking it. He gives her a gentle stroke on the head before responding.]
Fair enough. I apologize if I offended you in some way. [But, he can't help a chuckle escaping afterwards.] You would make a terrible poet, then, for the love of another - or lack thereof - is practically everything to one. Though I understand how the Port may make certain things more difficult... we must all be human where we can, je suppose.
Surely there must be someone? I promise I have never met you before in my life - as I have said, I am sure I would remember you. You are most pleasant company, for certain.
[It's then that Liliane, decides that someone needs to pet her. So she hops onto the counter, and meows at Enjolras, before rubbing her head against him.]
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Are you so sure that you do not know me? I cannot explain it, but I do feel as thought we know each other very well. Forgive me for being forward, but I cannot shake the feeling.
[He moves on to scratch Liliane's ears.]
You've not offended me. But, from your face I can see, it seems that I have caused you some pain. Please forgive me.
[He's not entirely positive what he's done to face Francois' smile. He knows that death is not a plesant subject, and yet it seems to be more than that. It's something he can't place but that he knows is there.
He decides to change the subject.]
I only ever knew one poet...
[No, that's no good either. Enjolras takes his break and checks his emotions, still scratching the cat.]
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Where is it you believe I would know you from? [Ha, Enjolras, you hit the nail so squarely on the head that it's almost painful. But Francis is not going to give in so easily, not now. Though perhaps a few more wounds to his bleeding heart will cause him to finally cave in.] It is fine for you to be forward, monsieur Enjolras, mais, I hardly know you at all. Simply your name, and that you are mon nationalité.
Non non non, it is no trouble. As familiar as I am with death... I have never enjoyed its persistent company. [And how untouchable he is by it, sometimes.]
I knew several, throughout my years on Earth. I still do, en fait.
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[No glory or new future, or even martyrdom had awaited him after the barricades. There was only death. He hand his had simply been cast aside when the barricades fell. No, there is no reason why this man would know him.]
Death and I are far to well acquainted, I'm afraid. I'm afraid I've rather come to hate it, but please forgive me for breaching such an unpleasant subject in the presence of food, wine, and company. This is not the place for it.
[He focuses on the purring cat as he speaks. Yet, something else calls his attention. He raises his eyes from Lilianne and looks up at Francois directly again.]
On earth? I beg your pardon?
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[France grows oddly quiet after a moment, stilling his movements also.] I am afraid that in the Port, death is a more persistent companion than at home, mon ami... even if you come from times of war, and revolution, and the like.
... mais, you are right, this is all for a different time, non? [He's quick to go back to his work, quickly finishing up the delicious stew, before taking out a spoonful and motioning for Enjolras to come closer.] Try this for me. Tell me what you think.
[Though at the last question, he shows an equal amount of confusion.] ... ahh, pardonnez-moi, I must be more tired than I thought.
(( ooc: So I goobered and made a typo - I meant to say "on this earth" but the this kinda disappeared XD Apologies on that! ))
no subject
[He gives a sad smile. But then, suddenly, the world "revolution" draws a hard and sharp look from Enjolras. Did this man know something? He stares, statue-like for a moment, but then he shakes it off.]
Yes, a different time. [He steps forward, reaching for the spoon.]
Indeed, forgive me. Tell me, please. I know that many people here are from different times. What year is it where you come from?
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[He did know, and after he makes the error, he bites his tongue to keep him from saying anymore on that subject. Enjolras has had enough to deal with already, the least of which is his death. Francis makes a mental note to himself.]
Taste it, s'il vous plaît? [France's passion for cooking is quick to show in that one spoonful - it smells like the perfect blend of spices and herbs, complementing the ingredients perfectly. And the taste? Some would argue it's even better than anyone imagined. He watches Enjolras intentively while he waits for a verdict...]
It was the beginning of this month and this year, when I came back to the port.
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It is very good of you to say, Monsieur. I thank you.
[Enjolras leans in, putting his lips to the spoon. A smile spreads.]
It's excellent, you have true skill. I haven't had anything so good since before I left Paris. I can see why people missed your cooking here.
[He licks his lips, smiling again.]
So, you come from the same year this... place? this Port is?
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[Oh, Enjolras, you know the way to his heart too well. The compliment to his cooking has France absolutely beaming.]
Ah, merci beaucoup! I am so glad to hear this, mon cher. If I can impress a true Parisian, I know I must be doing something right, non?
[It's then that he tastes it himself, editing only one thing and giving it a big stir, before he proclaims it "ready" and turns the burner to warm. He pulls out two bowls - one for Enjolras, if he should want any, and makes a bowl for himself, before moving toward the tables set there.]
Mais oui, I do. It was early February in 2013 when I left - and here I am, in early February, in 2013.
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That is a lucky twist of fate indeed. It was Summer when I left Paris, and a long time ago too. I arrived here in winter in a regrettable position. It was a shock to say the last.
But, forgive me. Let us enjoy this food without my complaints.
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Ah, oui, Michael had told me this - the summer of 1832, I believe, is what he told me. That is a very long time ago compared to this place, non? I am sure Siren's Port must have been a great shock. [The phrase "Insurrection républicaine à Paris en juin 1832" immediately flashes in his head, but there is no way he's bringing up the exact date. Not unless Enjolras wishes to talk about it first.]
Michael was good to me, too, when I first arrived - you see, I came here in the middle of the night, during the Darkness. He was one of the many people who kept me company over the NV. He has been my friend ever since. It does not help that I also practically owe him my life.
[Though that wasn't quite accurate. But without Michael, who knows how many people he would have killed. But that was a story for another day, when it came up again. He didn't want to get into it now, not when this other man was far more interesting to him than anything else in Siren's Port at the moment.]
You are hardly complaining, mon ami. Though if you wish to change the topic, I would not object.
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Michael told you? Yes, it was Summer, 1832. June, if I am exact. [He remembers what Michael told him, that he had inspired a future uprising, that they had not forgotten. An overwhelming urge to test this information overtakes him.
His eyes widen at the baguettes, and he cuts himself a piece, while desperately trying to sound quite casual.]
Does the year and month mean anything to you?
[The smell of the food is enough to quell his nerves about bringing it up. Besides, if he does know, it will bring him a lot of comfort.]
Michael was good to me too. It does not surprise me that he saved you and others. He has helped me too. He is a friend to a good many people.
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[Of course the year and month mean something to him - and the flicker of recognition seems to appear in his eyes again. He nods a bit, turning his attention to the coq au vin in front of him, which he suddenly finds immensely interesting.] June of 1832... well, something did happen, then. On the fifth and sixth, I believe. It is called the June Rebellion, in English. It is l'Insurrection républicaine à Paris en juin 1832 in our tongue.
[But he's quick to pass on to other topics. Topics that don't remind him of this poor man's fate.]
He is indeed, and I am happy for it. Were it not for him... well, I would not have had a home, twice. He was kind enough to take me in, again and again, despite my hardships here.
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[Enjolras falls silent, looking wistful]
So it is true. We weren't forgotten. [He speaks more to himself, but a faint smile spreads on his lips.]
Thank you! That is very good to know.
[And for a brief moment his arms are around Francis' neck. He pulls back, his expression more serious.]
Please, I beg your pardon, but you don't know what it means to me.
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[Despite the grave subject before, France can't help the corners of his lips curving upward into a smile.]
Which only goes to show just how remarkable Paris is! Although I am sure you would be surprised with just how much Paris has changed, in my time.
[He doesn't seem to mind the hug, in fact, he seems perfectly willing to wrap his arms around Enjolras in return, though he does follow the younger man's cues about pulling away.]
There is no need, Enjolras. You didn't offend me. [Another friendly smile, with a few claps to his shoulder.] I am happy to tell you about the future, if you would like. I believe you have seen much of it in the Port as it is.
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