008 ⚜ Video ⚜ Canada Day
[Francis appears on the Network in the wee hours of the morning, just before the early sirens go off to signal an end to the Darkness. It seems the NV is propped up against something, because he is sitting on the couch, hugging one knee to his chest. He doesn't try one of his usual smiles, this time.]
It's my son's birthday today. It has been for five hours now - or eight, rather, Ottawa is ahead of us by three hours, I think. [His face is apathetic, with a slightly furrowed brow - he's obviously distressed about something.] He is not here in the Port. He never has been, I don't think. And I am going to miss his anniversaire. [A slight pause, and his expression changes to a look of regret, as he draws his second leg upward, pulling both of his knees to his chest, now.]
… I know I have not been the biggest influence in his life, especially since Arthur kept me away from him for most of his teenage years... mais, I have been there for Matthieu's birthday every year. Every. Single. Year! Mais, maintenant, I am stuck here in Siren's Port. I don't get to give him his yearly greeting; “Joyeux anniversaire, Matthieu petit! Je t'aime!” I don't get to give him the cake I bake for him every year… [He looks down at his hands a little, fidgeting with them, lost in his own world.] … Matthieu said last year, his favorite part of his birthday was getting a maple walnut birthday cake from his Papa-
[His voice cracks just then, and he pauses for a few moments, also pausing the movement of his hands. Someone who was looking closely enough could tell that his hands are shaking, slightly. All of a sudden, he blinks, and some tears begin to roll down his cheeks. He quickly wipes at them, trying not to hint that they're there, but the shaky breath he draws in just before then is as good an indication as any that he's started to cry.] … pardonnez-moi, je... d-désolé- [He quickly scrambles for the NV as a sob escapes his lips.
Click.]
(( ooc: It's going to take several minutes, maybe even an hour, for France to respond to anything. Papa misses his baby Canada. :c ))
It's my son's birthday today. It has been for five hours now - or eight, rather, Ottawa is ahead of us by three hours, I think. [His face is apathetic, with a slightly furrowed brow - he's obviously distressed about something.] He is not here in the Port. He never has been, I don't think. And I am going to miss his anniversaire. [A slight pause, and his expression changes to a look of regret, as he draws his second leg upward, pulling both of his knees to his chest, now.]
… I know I have not been the biggest influence in his life, especially since Arthur kept me away from him for most of his teenage years... mais, I have been there for Matthieu's birthday every year. Every. Single. Year! Mais, maintenant, I am stuck here in Siren's Port. I don't get to give him his yearly greeting; “Joyeux anniversaire, Matthieu petit! Je t'aime!” I don't get to give him the cake I bake for him every year… [He looks down at his hands a little, fidgeting with them, lost in his own world.] … Matthieu said last year, his favorite part of his birthday was getting a maple walnut birthday cake from his Papa-
[His voice cracks just then, and he pauses for a few moments, also pausing the movement of his hands. Someone who was looking closely enough could tell that his hands are shaking, slightly. All of a sudden, he blinks, and some tears begin to roll down his cheeks. He quickly wipes at them, trying not to hint that they're there, but the shaky breath he draws in just before then is as good an indication as any that he's started to cry.] … pardonnez-moi, je... d-désolé- [He quickly scrambles for the NV as a sob escapes his lips.
Click.]
(( ooc: It's going to take several minutes, maybe even an hour, for France to respond to anything. Papa misses his baby Canada. :c ))