001 ⚜ un
Who: France and anybody unfortunate to find him.
Where: Espoir, around the fountain.
Style: Starting with first person, but will follow whatever style you tag back with.
Status: Open!
[ He didn't know where he was, how he came to be here, what the strange device he found did, or anything. One thing for certain, however, was the fact that it was beyond freezing here. France made it verbally clear of his distaste for this new environment already, rapid French spitting forth out of his lips like any typical, angered Parisian would properly react. He had held onto his Dreamberry, putting it within the outer pocket of his house robe, but hasn't taken the time to figure out how it works or anything; he needs to get some place warm and fast.
Oh yes. His house robe. That seems to be what he was wearing at the time of appearing here. His house robe was obnoxiously coloured,a floral print of roses of all sorts covering it entirely; it was mainly a piece of luxury than that of comfort.
Shrieking, desperate and angered by now, he shouts: ]
Eeeuggghhhhh! QU'EST-CE QUE C'EEEEEST!? J'AI FROID!
[ Cue a bit of rushing about, hugging himself, yelling out. After all, he wasn't wearing shoes, and he found walking on the cold found to be really, really uncomfortable.
He didn't hear anything, and so he grunts, groaning, eyebrows pinning together. ]
---Oui, d'accord, anglais! Anglais-- English! We will speak the disgusting language of Angleterre if that is what you must hear!
Allo! Is anyone out there--!? Merde, merde. it is freezing! I do not remember being here, or it being this cold! I, eeughh, I demand assistance! By anybody! Je m'en fous-- Ouais, anybody! Surely there is, aaaahhhh, somebody here! Where is my home? Or, ahh, all of my clothes? My beautiful homeland--!?
This is not! Ach, I repeat, it is NOT a suitable environment for me, non! Non! And, oho, if this is anybody's idea of a sick joke, perhaps an English joke, ohooho, I am... warning you now! Oui, yes, warning you!
[ Though, he trails off and comes to a halt, crumbling a bit to his knees and cupping his hands. He's pensive, thinking things few, trying to recall what could have happened. Although he isn't a frequent prayer nowadays, France finds himself with his fingers folded together, muttering French heavenwards, eyes fanned shut in contemplation as he goes through a list of confessions which aren't going to be mentioned, followed by promises which he isn't going to keep, followed by a list of things he wants right now....
such as a way back home, a pair of shoes, a warm person and a glass of claret. ]
Where: Espoir, around the fountain.
Style: Starting with first person, but will follow whatever style you tag back with.
Status: Open!
[ He didn't know where he was, how he came to be here, what the strange device he found did, or anything. One thing for certain, however, was the fact that it was beyond freezing here. France made it verbally clear of his distaste for this new environment already, rapid French spitting forth out of his lips like any typical, angered Parisian would properly react. He had held onto his Dreamberry, putting it within the outer pocket of his house robe, but hasn't taken the time to figure out how it works or anything; he needs to get some place warm and fast.
Oh yes. His house robe. That seems to be what he was wearing at the time of appearing here. His house robe was obnoxiously coloured,a floral print of roses of all sorts covering it entirely; it was mainly a piece of luxury than that of comfort.
Shrieking, desperate and angered by now, he shouts: ]
Eeeuggghhhhh! QU'EST-CE QUE C'EEEEEST!? J'AI FROID!
[ Cue a bit of rushing about, hugging himself, yelling out. After all, he wasn't wearing shoes, and he found walking on the cold found to be really, really uncomfortable.
He didn't hear anything, and so he grunts, groaning, eyebrows pinning together. ]
---Oui, d'accord, anglais! Anglais-- English! We will speak the disgusting language of Angleterre if that is what you must hear!
Allo! Is anyone out there--!? Merde, merde. it is freezing! I do not remember being here, or it being this cold! I, eeughh, I demand assistance! By anybody! Je m'en fous-- Ouais, anybody! Surely there is, aaaahhhh, somebody here! Where is my home? Or, ahh, all of my clothes? My beautiful homeland--!?
This is not! Ach, I repeat, it is NOT a suitable environment for me, non! Non! And, oho, if this is anybody's idea of a sick joke, perhaps an English joke, ohooho, I am... warning you now! Oui, yes, warning you!
[ Though, he trails off and comes to a halt, crumbling a bit to his knees and cupping his hands. He's pensive, thinking things few, trying to recall what could have happened. Although he isn't a frequent prayer nowadays, France finds himself with his fingers folded together, muttering French heavenwards, eyes fanned shut in contemplation as he goes through a list of confessions which aren't going to be mentioned, followed by promises which he isn't going to keep, followed by a list of things he wants right now....
such as a way back home, a pair of shoes, a warm person and a glass of claret. ]