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)
arcanarumlogs2012-08-26 02:05 pm
paysdelamour) wrote in arcanarumlogs2012-08-26 02:05 pm
The dire wolf collects his dues, while the boys sing round the fire
Who: France and you!
When: November 1st, from about noon to sunset
Where: All over the island - feel free to meet him anywhere!
What: France is alive, but contemplating his successive deaths in the forest, and is appreciating life just a little more. Also he looks terrible.
Warnings: Mentions of death and small mentions of bile, lots of ~feelings~. Likely lots of tearful reunions.
It was with a jolt that Francis woke, as he sat straight up with a gasp. But his head began to spin, his whole body tingled as he remembered the scene in the forest, with the wolf slashing at his flesh. It almost seemed like a dream, now, but it felt so real -
Francis felt the bile rising in his throat and in a rush he tried to clamber out of bed, to get to the bathroom, but his limbs just wouldn't work - they were numb from not being used for several days. So he ended up on all fours on the floor, retching, body trembling all over from the nostalgic chills of pain, from the phantom feeling of missing flesh despite his side looking very much present, and him being very much alive. France felt as if he was going to be sick again, but he had nothing in his stomach in the first place, so the little bit of bile was all that stained his floor, as he continued to dry heave for what seemed like an eternity. Damn this mortal body! Francis thought to himself, eyes closed, teeth gritted, as he tried to get it back under his control.
Once it seemed to be done, Francis coughed, wiping off his mouth on the back of his sleeve. He recognized it - the old, blood-stained, red costume he was forced to wear that night. Thankfully, the hat and the mask were completely gone. But that thing... it still felt wrong to be in it. And with the slight smell of blood... well, it was almost making him sick, again. So he decided to quickly change out of it into something else. He tugged off the coat, throwing it to the side - the shirt went over his head and in the same pile. The boots he had to sit on the floor to tug off, and the leggings were (thankfully) easy to remove. Shakily, he stood back up, and went to his wardrobe to look at his choices. He pulled on a simple shirt and pair of slacks - but he had to lean against the wardrobe to get dressed, and he couldn't even really be bothered with buttons or laces, so he ended up also slipping on a pair of loafers.
Once Francis has changed out of his old costume and fixed his room (thank god his imagination could get rid of his bile and that old costume for good), he carefully used the wall to climb out into the main room of his house. But that wasn't what he was interested in - he wanted to go outside. So, he used the wall to make it to the front door, and stepped outside.
Then sun felt good on his face. It almost made him feel better, somehow, and it was what finally got him to take a trembling step on his own, away from any support. Within a few minutes, he felt as if he could walk again, and so he started around the island, looking at everything again with new eyes. But something still plagued his thoughts, and that was the thought of his death in the forest. He remembered distinctly that he had said his last goodbyes to a number of people. Was he going mad? He had remembered distinct times when he felt himself giving his last breath. And they were multiple. But that was impossible, unless...
(( ooc: Please specify time and location in the title of your post! Thank you! ))
When: November 1st, from about noon to sunset
Where: All over the island - feel free to meet him anywhere!
What: France is alive, but contemplating his successive deaths in the forest, and is appreciating life just a little more. Also he looks terrible.
Warnings: Mentions of death and small mentions of bile, lots of ~feelings~. Likely lots of tearful reunions.
It was with a jolt that Francis woke, as he sat straight up with a gasp. But his head began to spin, his whole body tingled as he remembered the scene in the forest, with the wolf slashing at his flesh. It almost seemed like a dream, now, but it felt so real -
Francis felt the bile rising in his throat and in a rush he tried to clamber out of bed, to get to the bathroom, but his limbs just wouldn't work - they were numb from not being used for several days. So he ended up on all fours on the floor, retching, body trembling all over from the nostalgic chills of pain, from the phantom feeling of missing flesh despite his side looking very much present, and him being very much alive. France felt as if he was going to be sick again, but he had nothing in his stomach in the first place, so the little bit of bile was all that stained his floor, as he continued to dry heave for what seemed like an eternity. Damn this mortal body! Francis thought to himself, eyes closed, teeth gritted, as he tried to get it back under his control.
Once it seemed to be done, Francis coughed, wiping off his mouth on the back of his sleeve. He recognized it - the old, blood-stained, red costume he was forced to wear that night. Thankfully, the hat and the mask were completely gone. But that thing... it still felt wrong to be in it. And with the slight smell of blood... well, it was almost making him sick, again. So he decided to quickly change out of it into something else. He tugged off the coat, throwing it to the side - the shirt went over his head and in the same pile. The boots he had to sit on the floor to tug off, and the leggings were (thankfully) easy to remove. Shakily, he stood back up, and went to his wardrobe to look at his choices. He pulled on a simple shirt and pair of slacks - but he had to lean against the wardrobe to get dressed, and he couldn't even really be bothered with buttons or laces, so he ended up also slipping on a pair of loafers.
Once Francis has changed out of his old costume and fixed his room (thank god his imagination could get rid of his bile and that old costume for good), he carefully used the wall to climb out into the main room of his house. But that wasn't what he was interested in - he wanted to go outside. So, he used the wall to make it to the front door, and stepped outside.
Then sun felt good on his face. It almost made him feel better, somehow, and it was what finally got him to take a trembling step on his own, away from any support. Within a few minutes, he felt as if he could walk again, and so he started around the island, looking at everything again with new eyes. But something still plagued his thoughts, and that was the thought of his death in the forest. He remembered distinctly that he had said his last goodbyes to a number of people. Was he going mad? He had remembered distinct times when he felt himself giving his last breath. And they were multiple. But that was impossible, unless...
(( ooc: Please specify time and location in the title of your post! Thank you! ))
Re: also sorry for lateness ;;
He was fairly certain now that he had opened up a conversation, that Howl was going to ask him how this was possible, as all the others had. Unfortunately, the only conclusion he'd come to was that he had no idea himself. Still, it would be good to relax and be friendly again. It had been a while since they'd done that, just the two of them.
no subject
He had been thinking for some time now at trying his hand in making French food. Back home he hadn't bothered since he rarely ate anyway. But having the time to sit down and do things he otherwise wouldn't have done put a great many things into perspective.
no subject
Setting the glass down, half-finished, he let out a bitter snort of laughter. "Like death," he murmured, the morbid pun actually amusing him now that he was completely too tired to care. "May I have your cooking tomorrow morning? I... am not sure I can stomach any food right now." France hadn't eaten all day, but he wasn't sure he was going to be able to finish all of the water, either. And he knew after sleep, he would feel much better.
"Sit with me, s'il te plaît?" Francis motioned to one of the chairs, leaning back a little in his for a moment. He was sure Howl had questions, ones that he had answered a few dozen times to a few dozen people.
/finally rolls in orz
Howl took the indicated seat, staring keenly but not - he hoped - too intently at the other man. He was told sometimes that when he stared in a particular way the force of his stare was a little unsettling. Not in a bad way, but in a manner that suggested he had perhaps too much interest in whatever someone had to say or do. Yet while he knew this, it was hard not to keep his eyes away from Francis and abstain from noticing the tiredness dragging at the lines of the Frenchman's face, his limbs, his very manner.
"I wish I could give you some sort of potion..." he commented, frowning to himself. Air magic was useful, but not nearly as useful alone compared to when it was combined with other strands of magic.
/rolls with ;u;
"Merci beaucoup, mais... I think it is for the best that I recover on my own, mm? I think all I need is a little rest, and I will be right as rain." And frankly, Francis didn't want to admit that he didn't really trust potions, mostly because of the connotations from his world. Especially not when he had the unfortunate condition of mortality at the moment.