[ app: france ]
Character's Name: Francis Bonnefoy [ France ]
Series: Axis Powers Hetalia
Timeline: Aheh. "Present Day".
Canon Resource Link: [ wiki: French Republic ] & [ hetalia style profile! ]
What your character can offer: Would you like the best cuisine known to all mankind? How about the skill to differentiate between over three hundred varieties of cheese and even more of wine? France can give you that and just about anything that falls under the category of being called a delicacy. Excellent biking skills a la Tour de France and sportsmanship, a rich and creative mind in pompous fashion and the finest in Gothic architecture. And of course, beautiful seduction skills that even the English cannot resist--, France could probably charm his way out of anything. In short, uh, he's just got his history and country skill backing him, nothing more, yet nothing less!
What items will they be bringing with them? A semiautomatic, his clothes, no shame, a collection of wine and steel-like alcohol tolerance, his "vital rose" (which is the symbol of romance, of course!), chef's hat and apron, and of course, his wonderous libido and porn magazines, what more would one need? ;D
Third-Person Sample:
It was rather darling, he had to confess, when England went on his sweet little tirades that resulted in his blood pressure shooting through the roof. Of course, the very core of the poor nation's existence depended on making others look bad and looting from the rest, activities which France honestly didn't hold entirely against him, but found fit to raise an eyebrow at. He smirked to himself as he continued to watch as England told off America for speaking with his mouth full, a habit which he fully believed came from influence rather than rebellion-- why, he could name quite a few times where England had seen fit to behave like an arrogant little cochon in those sorry excuses of banquets in his own day. It was a sorry sight, really, and France only wished his cute little brother had learned at least a little more from him.
The battle between America and England had now continued into yet another disagreement of America's superbly ridiculous ideas and finally France stood up to full height, chuckling to himself as he flicked his head, a hand resting on his waist as he addressed the brothers.
"I think..." He began, trailing off for dramatic effect. He could almost feel the blossom of roses accentuating his elegant speech appear behind him, "I shall disagree with both England and America."
Oh, he loved this next bit and if only the two realized how easy they made it. Attention, negative or positive, though he'd prefer the latter-- was more than welcome where it came to him, and he slid a hand back against the desk surface that he had been leaning against in his seat not more than a few moments ago to sit on top of it, a position that seated him higher than the bickering brothers-- as well as drew further attention to himself, of course. England was already yelling into his left ear, while America was to his right. Now if he only had dear little Italy in his lap, the picture would be complete, wouldn't it? He continued to chuckle, even as he felt England's hand poke into his head, with America's pen poking into his ear on the other side, both of them saying what sounded exactly the same to him, just in different accents. "Whose side are you on?!" "Why won't you agree with me!" "Pay attention to me, France!" Or at least how he'd like it to sound-- it was close enough and musical enough to his ears, before he smirked, swatting away America's pen as he plucked the rose from the vase on the table and inhaled its scent deeply (for dramatic effect, of course.)
"Now why would I waste my energy agreeing with two rogues, when I am a gentilhomme, non?" He smirked over the petals at his rebellious younger brother, an act that he knew would infuriate him to no end, what with him having indirectly mocked England's title of respectability as well as directly insulting his personality all in one breath. It worked exactly as planned, and England was yelling at him once more, his hand flying to grab him by the collar-- a shame, really, the blouse was an original Maison Martin Margiela, not that England would know the difference between that and a paper bag, and he turned his gaze onto those icy green eyes with a cool look as he reached out to slide a finger under his chin to startle him with the act and drew his face closer.
"Patience, England. We can take this somewhere private, non? I'll give you something to hold onto until we can." He purred, and much to the amusement and horror of America, he tilted his head and pecked England's lips with his own, before immediately ducking his head at the anticipation of the flying punch that England threw his way, swearing up a storm while France could only smirk in triumph. Laughing easily as he reached out to grab the offending fist with his hand, but unable to block the one that flew into his stomach, America's laughter and yell of "Nice fight!" simply served to entertain him as he kicked out his leg to catch England's with and trip him backward.
He almost couldn't wait to see if this particular meeting would bother to get anywhere, but the battles were nearly always a great way to get some excitement. Besides, with luck, he could always appeal to his dear little Italy later on, and wouldn't that be a feast. The chuckle that resounded in his own head at the intimate thought translated into a rather disturbing expression on his face-- which, he would later say, was absolutely worth showing if it got England as disturbed as it did, enough to attempt backing off and giving France the advantage to chase, even when Germany threatened them almost right after it.
After all, at the end of the meeting, it'd be his wine they'd all be drinking, and he couldn't wait to see the after-effects it'd have on a particular few. The anticipation would be completely worth it.
First-Person Sample:
[ voice post ]
[ Soft muttering in French, soon replaced by a surprised gasp and then a chuckle ]
Mon Dieu... Something seems to be a... 'ow you say, out of place, oui? Ah, perhaps that particular champagne did a bit too much. Maybe I shall attempt some seasoning instead next time? Ah.
[ A brief pause with some shifting sounds-- followed by a sudden yelp ]
Sacré Bleu! If you wish to undress me, asking nicely shall do--! Angleterre, honestly, if this is your idea of a prank, don't you realize this is the wrong time of year for--
[ And the sound cuts off abruptly, only to come back on after a little while ]
I hope no one shall mind a little mess, n'est-ce pas...? Now what exactly is this place... 'Allo?
Name: Shahni
LJ: shahni
E-Mail: crescendsong [at] yahoo [.] com
IM: galante raivis or frostedorchids (the latter is private x) )
Series: Axis Powers Hetalia
Timeline: Aheh. "Present Day".
Canon Resource Link: [ wiki: French Republic ] & [ hetalia style profile! ]
What your character can offer: Would you like the best cuisine known to all mankind? How about the skill to differentiate between over three hundred varieties of cheese and even more of wine? France can give you that and just about anything that falls under the category of being called a delicacy. Excellent biking skills a la Tour de France and sportsmanship, a rich and creative mind in pompous fashion and the finest in Gothic architecture. And of course, beautiful seduction skills that even the English cannot resist--, France could probably charm his way out of anything. In short, uh, he's just got his history and country skill backing him, nothing more, yet nothing less!
What items will they be bringing with them? A semiautomatic, his clothes, no shame, a collection of wine and steel-like alcohol tolerance, his "vital rose" (which is the symbol of romance, of course!), chef's hat and apron, and of course, his wonderous libido and porn magazines, what more would one need? ;D
Third-Person Sample:
It was rather darling, he had to confess, when England went on his sweet little tirades that resulted in his blood pressure shooting through the roof. Of course, the very core of the poor nation's existence depended on making others look bad and looting from the rest, activities which France honestly didn't hold entirely against him, but found fit to raise an eyebrow at. He smirked to himself as he continued to watch as England told off America for speaking with his mouth full, a habit which he fully believed came from influence rather than rebellion-- why, he could name quite a few times where England had seen fit to behave like an arrogant little cochon in those sorry excuses of banquets in his own day. It was a sorry sight, really, and France only wished his cute little brother had learned at least a little more from him.
The battle between America and England had now continued into yet another disagreement of America's superbly ridiculous ideas and finally France stood up to full height, chuckling to himself as he flicked his head, a hand resting on his waist as he addressed the brothers.
"I think..." He began, trailing off for dramatic effect. He could almost feel the blossom of roses accentuating his elegant speech appear behind him, "I shall disagree with both England and America."
Oh, he loved this next bit and if only the two realized how easy they made it. Attention, negative or positive, though he'd prefer the latter-- was more than welcome where it came to him, and he slid a hand back against the desk surface that he had been leaning against in his seat not more than a few moments ago to sit on top of it, a position that seated him higher than the bickering brothers-- as well as drew further attention to himself, of course. England was already yelling into his left ear, while America was to his right. Now if he only had dear little Italy in his lap, the picture would be complete, wouldn't it? He continued to chuckle, even as he felt England's hand poke into his head, with America's pen poking into his ear on the other side, both of them saying what sounded exactly the same to him, just in different accents. "Whose side are you on?!" "Why won't you agree with me!" "Pay attention to me, France!" Or at least how he'd like it to sound-- it was close enough and musical enough to his ears, before he smirked, swatting away America's pen as he plucked the rose from the vase on the table and inhaled its scent deeply (for dramatic effect, of course.)
"Now why would I waste my energy agreeing with two rogues, when I am a gentilhomme, non?" He smirked over the petals at his rebellious younger brother, an act that he knew would infuriate him to no end, what with him having indirectly mocked England's title of respectability as well as directly insulting his personality all in one breath. It worked exactly as planned, and England was yelling at him once more, his hand flying to grab him by the collar-- a shame, really, the blouse was an original Maison Martin Margiela, not that England would know the difference between that and a paper bag, and he turned his gaze onto those icy green eyes with a cool look as he reached out to slide a finger under his chin to startle him with the act and drew his face closer.
"Patience, England. We can take this somewhere private, non? I'll give you something to hold onto until we can." He purred, and much to the amusement and horror of America, he tilted his head and pecked England's lips with his own, before immediately ducking his head at the anticipation of the flying punch that England threw his way, swearing up a storm while France could only smirk in triumph. Laughing easily as he reached out to grab the offending fist with his hand, but unable to block the one that flew into his stomach, America's laughter and yell of "Nice fight!" simply served to entertain him as he kicked out his leg to catch England's with and trip him backward.
He almost couldn't wait to see if this particular meeting would bother to get anywhere, but the battles were nearly always a great way to get some excitement. Besides, with luck, he could always appeal to his dear little Italy later on, and wouldn't that be a feast. The chuckle that resounded in his own head at the intimate thought translated into a rather disturbing expression on his face-- which, he would later say, was absolutely worth showing if it got England as disturbed as it did, enough to attempt backing off and giving France the advantage to chase, even when Germany threatened them almost right after it.
After all, at the end of the meeting, it'd be his wine they'd all be drinking, and he couldn't wait to see the after-effects it'd have on a particular few. The anticipation would be completely worth it.
First-Person Sample:
[ voice post ]
[ Soft muttering in French, soon replaced by a surprised gasp and then a chuckle ]
Mon Dieu... Something seems to be a... 'ow you say, out of place, oui? Ah, perhaps that particular champagne did a bit too much. Maybe I shall attempt some seasoning instead next time? Ah.
[ A brief pause with some shifting sounds-- followed by a sudden yelp ]
Sacré Bleu! If you wish to undress me, asking nicely shall do--! Angleterre, honestly, if this is your idea of a prank, don't you realize this is the wrong time of year for--
[ And the sound cuts off abruptly, only to come back on after a little while ]
I hope no one shall mind a little mess, n'est-ce pas...? Now what exactly is this place... 'Allo?
Name: Shahni
LJ: shahni
E-Mail: crescendsong [at] yahoo [.] com
IM: galante raivis or frostedorchids (the latter is private x) )