Only in dreams we see what it means; [SEMI-OPEN]

[crotchroses]

Who: crotchroses, fettuttitties, noblemen, hullonurse and possibly anyone else who wants in on this.
Where: Discedo/Latimir
When: October 14th, near nightfall
Rating: PG-13 for language and possible violence
Summary: Gallia, Gaul, Roman Gaul etc etc--tiny!France. He's strangely sort of bringing people together. Kind of. Maybe?
The Log:

Comments

[hullonurse]

[Rosemary, meanwhile, is tidying up Francis' apartment having not yet noticed the disappearance of her charge. Francis may not be excessively dirty but they are expecting company and also she has decided that France has no right to have a clean apartment and therefor it must be dirty and therefor it must be cleaned, whatever the evidence suggests.

After a while, however, she does notice that it's gotten suspiciously quiet....] Gaul, dear?

[crotchroses]

[There is nothing but suspicious, heavy silence--where normally he'd come running happily.

Yeah he is so not there.]

[noblemen]

Who would ever willingly live in this piss stain of a town? [ He exhales and taps his foot, waiting for someone to answer the door. Or come down and meet him. ]

[ Though before his alleged female counterpart could come down to properly greet him, Arthur noticed a small little thing running around in a coat five sizes too big for him. For a moment, he just stared at the little creature, until of course, it trips and says something about "juno's cunt", to which Arthur raises a brow. Then proceeds to approach the little boy. ]

Are you-- [ Then stopped. And stared. And blinked, and leaned in a little. ] Francis? Oh good... Christ. I... [ A hand reaches up to comb fingers through his hair, swallowing as he almost kneels down, but then straightens out, unwilling just yet to actively help his own enemy to his feet. ] So you weren't just making the whole thing up. That is... slightly inconvenient.

[ And then in Anglo-Saxon: ] Gallia, yes? Your name is Gallia.

[crotchroses]

[In the blink of an eye, Gaul is on his feet in a defensive stance with a knife pointed straight at Arthur.

When he sees who it is, he doesn't relax at all. This wasn't as planned.]

. . . Britannia.

[noblemen]

Christ. [ He pauses, then almost advances a moment, foot moving forward, unafraid of the weapon threatening his being, but then he hesitates again. ]

[ The chip. He's mortal. And as harmless as Gallia may see, Arthur knows better. Knows that even the smallest of countries can each up to stab the elders, the greater, the bigger in the back. ]

Easy now, lad, easy, easy. [ He puts his up hands, trying to indicate he doesn't want to fight with him. And then, in Anglo-Saxon: ] Yes, Britannia. I am Britannia.

[crotchroses]

[Gaul does not lower his knife, nor does he relax. There is little to no trust for grown nations and grown men in him.

But.

This is Britannia. He is so tall and strong and... and old. He thinks back, back to what Romana had told him, and he visibly falters. Small blues search the greens, for what, he doesn't know. He's too young. He doesn't understand. He knows he doesn't understand.

After a long and uncomfortable pause, Gaul replaces the knife and launches himself at England's knees in order to latch himself onto England's middle. Or as close to it as he can reach.

It's muffled, but it comes across clearly enough:]

Britannia! You're alive. You became an empire!

[Burying his face in England's shirt. He is so disgustingly happy.]

[fettuttittes]

[It doesn't matter that he ran off from her, Romana's not the type to give up that easily. As soon as she realised she followed him, quiet and sneaky herself. If Gallia wanted to be alone fine, but he was a child, and there was no way she'd let a child just wander around in a place that commonly faced attacks by monsters. If she needed to step in she would.

She just wished her left arm and side would stop aching. She shouldn't have carried him for so long, but she had, and when she had checked her bandages she had pulled the wound open just a tiny bit. She'd have to be more careful this time.

There is the slightest chuckle as he trips, and Romana, stops, crossing her arms. If he looks up he'll see her clearly]

Going somewhere?

[crotchroses]

[He whirls around and stares at Romana as if she's appeared out of thin air. This... this really didn't go as planned.]

... Yes.

[fettuttittes]

[Slowly raises an eyebrow before sighing.]

Gallia... please. Come back inside, it will be dark soon, and I don't trust this place.

[crotchroses]

[He... he shakes his head. Oh, he wants to come inside, where it's warm and safe, where Mama Roma is with her delicious cooking, but...]

I have to be alone.