Post by france on Mar 29, 2011 17:57:41 GMT
These streets so fixed and solid
Were shimming with hate
[/b][/i]Were shimming with hate
"Il n'y a qu' un bonheur dans la vie, c'est d'aimer et d'être aimé. (There is only one happiness in life, to love and be loved)"
or Rien ne sert d'être vivant s'il faut qu'on travaille. ;p[/center][/size]
And everything that I relied on
Disappeared
Disappeared
Country: France
Name: Francis Leon Bonnefoy
Gender: Male
Age: 25
Profession: Lover ~ Poet~ Artist extraordinaire~ (and part time Chief/ food Critic.)
Highlander or Lowlander?: Highlander
All the strangers look like family
All the family look so strange
All the family look so strange
Appearance: Francis is, in his own opinion, a god among men and Gods gift to both sexes. Tall and lithe he stands at about 187.96cm (6 foot 2 inches). He has wavy fine hair that hangs to about his shoulders. His eyes are blue and often half lidded, and complement his easy smile. He is almost always impeccably dressed and coiffed, but in that carefully "just got out of bed like this.' manner. He has a small amount of stubble just under his chin, contrasting with his fine french skin.
Personality: Francis would like to think himself a Gentleman, having grown up reading of the old world and the knights that inhabited it. He wants to think he is kind noble and just, with a good heart and strong hands and in a way he is. Francis never ignores someone he deems needy, he loves to try and make friends (or more than friends). He never refuses food, drink, or lodging to any who need it and is warm to all who want it. He is passionate in all endeavours no matter if its in the bed room ,the kitchen, or in the streets. He loves to laugh and is very much a God fearing catholic (except for the whole Bisexuality thing but he believes God really doesn't care whats happening the the bedroom. ) He is a good man all around.
Extremely extroverted , Francis will never miss and opportunity to make new friends. He loves anything social, from loud rave parties to quiet night in with his close friends.
He models himself as a big brother to his friends, always there to listen and give (mostly) Good advice. This tends thought to make him overbearing and a little smothering. He loves to gossip and will only be quiet when he is listening for the latest scoop in his friends social lives. He loves to help others with Fashion, as hes a bit of a fashionable person himself.
He's also a brat. Part of this stems from his upbringing, after all his family was wealthy and Francis rarely wanted for anything. Mostly though is his dealing with depression. Something feels off, and he has a bit of a Nihilistic streak. There is hope yes, but he also sees pain which hurts him greatly. He wants to do something but doesn't quiet know what. So it makes him morose over his perceived inability to do anything to help.
Francis hates work, particularly if its hard work. He prefers to get others to help him through smiles and good will, and when that doesn't work pouting and being over dramatic can. When he is forced to work he whines and pouts the whole time, and when that doesn't help he sulks.
Francis rarely gets angry really, though exasperation is common when dealing with someone who annoys him. When he does get angry though he turns stubborn and catty. Nothing is sacred to him and he /knows/ hes right. He is loathed to resort to violence, which makes him a bit of a coward, but can and WILL hold his own if fist start to fly.
History: Francis was born into a Highlander family. His Father had worked his way up from the Lowlands to where he is through grit and determination, and married his mother, an old family Highlander, in a bid to secure his rank . His mother though had married for love, and this dichotomy of feelings caused tension. Francis grew up in a family where his father was distant and his mother quiet and depressed. It caused massive amounts of tension in the family that often left poor Francis worried and anxious.
Still His father his mother cherished and loved him. When Francis learned that he could make them smile to ease the tension he used this talent full force and made sure to please them. He always had a joke for his mother and an attentive ear for his fathers lessons on Business. He always drew and painted for his mother, scenes of the knights and maidens she read him stories of. For his father he brought home decent grades and began to help him in the social circles by being an upstanding citizen . Even through college he stayed with his family. They were his world.
When his father died of a sudden heart attack, his mother soon followed by her own hand, Francis was devastated. He was fresh out of college, an heir to a fortune and had his whole life ahead of him, yet it seemed all for naught. He had lost the only two people he had held dear .
Francis became depressed, and now struggles with it. To distract himself He runs his own restaurant as head chief and does a small
expose for the local newspaper every week as a food critic. Its been three years now and he is on track... except for those Nightmares.
Recurring nightmare: The French Revolution- 1789
Francis finds himself digging through a field of dead bloated bodies, looking for something. Each time he has it he is deeper into the bodies, closer to what he looks for. Each face is someone he knows, or has seen on the street. Some are attached to the bodies and some are just heads, but all of them move their eyes and open their mouths, screaming silently.
The only constant I am sure of
Is this accelerating rate of change
Is this accelerating rate of change
Likes:
People- Francis loves people. In his restaurant he makes sure to greet customers like they were family.
Good food and fine wine and cooking -A bit of a glutton Francis is always doing something in the kitchen, if only to keep his mind off things.
La amour- Francis is a romantic at heart, though he fears he may never find his own love despite trying. He often reads Harlequin novels and tries to set people up. He is very versed in the ways of love.
Art of all kinds- Francis uses money that he has on hand to buy any works of art he can. From sculpture to paintings the Art reminds him of his mother. He is well read and can speak both English and French due to having wanted to read works of art in both. Moderate singing voice.
Critiquing- After all, he does know better than most. He loves to dispense his knowledge
Dislikes:
Fighting- Mostly due to the work it takes Francis actively avoids fights unless its important to do so. Still if he finds someone who just riles him up....
People who look down their nose at him- Though Ironically he does so to others frequently. Still he dislikes people who pick at his faults, or at least do so blatantly.
Bad attitudes - As he is constantly and optimist having others around who are grumpy or mean just makes him feel tired and close to depression.
Downside up, upside down
Take my weight from the ground
[/b][/right]Take my weight from the ground
[/size]
Roleplay Sample:
The sunlight was perfect. The way it caught the Apple made the deep red of the ripe fruit seem like a jewel. Francis pauses, his brush hovering as he studies the object, making sure that each stroke he made was as perfect as the light.
Francis often wondered about the word perfect. It was such a simple word if you thought about it. Two syllables, ones that rolled off the tongue and over the lips so easily. Few things in this word we perfect but the word was so easy to use, so simple, that many things were misunderstood as such.
For now though this was perfect.
He flicked the brush then set it aside, studying once more the canvas before him. It was slow going, the slow inexorable build of the colours, the actions lending texture and depth to the image. It was so much like life. Every little movement marking your soul.
He sighed and stood. There was a time and place to sink into philosophy, but now was not it. He took the brushes up and brought them to the sink in the room adjoining his studio. Turning the water on cold he began to work them out humming lightly. The clock above the wall struck two and he sighed. He would hurry, after all he had an appointment, but something in this moment told him that no, they could wait. They would always wait, and he had time. Time enough to watch the clear water run clear, and to place the brushes aside to dry. He had time to pick out his suit and to walk slowly to the stand on the corner for a dozen roses, white and yellow. He had enough time. They would wait.
So he washed his brushes.
He did so with the slow, elegant grace that he remembered his mother having. Every move was needed and yet defined her. The soft voice and her eyes, always watching in the way a young child does when seeing something for the first time.
Francis winced as he thought of that, and felt a deep longing replacing what had been a moment ago the comfort of a simple task. It had been three years now and still he could not rid himself of the pain and suffering that accosted him daily.
"Qui craint de souffrir, il souffre déjà de ce qu'il craint." He muttered, trying to push the feelings down as he watched the colour spiral, the deep red and white dancing together.
When the water ran clear he went to his room, slowly stripping out of his work clothes, and took out the clothing he had picked the day before. A simple outfit, with an airy feel would do, one must dress to impress after all. When he finished he flung a scarf around his neck for a little pzazz and walked outside, his steps bouncing as he greeted his neighbours. He stopped at the street corner, and noticing the girl behind the stand looked sad, flirted with her to raise her spirits. She smiled and blushed before handing him his roses, and he bought one more, a pink rose for her. They spoke a little more about nothing at all before he bid her good day and once more began to walk.
He wouldn't want to be too late after all.
~~~
He stood before the stones, two of them stood just far enough apart so that the rose bush between them could bloom. He knelt, looking over the engravings. On one a name and below it a date. One the other simple a name and a Quote.
"Le temps est un grand maître, dit-on, le malheur est qu'il tue ses élèves."
Francis sat slowly, heedless of the grass beneath him. He lay the roses between the graves and then quietly spoke.
" Bonjour Mama... Hello Father."
Falling deep in the sky
Slipping into the unknown
Slipping into the unknown
Out of Character
Name/Nickname: you can call me France or Koiko
Timezone: Est (Gmt -5)
Any other information: Uh lets see. I am in uni so I am busy but I love to rp so I will try to be on alot. I have Dyslexia so my spelling is a little wonky but I try to keep that and my grammar in check. Um I love Pairing and my Favourite for Frances is France and England but I really don't mind others. I will try anything once.
You pull me in…
P u l l
m e i n.[/size][/i][/right][/b]P u l l
