✖ 002, S.O.S.

[amant]

[Greetings, Asgard! Your bonafide Bonnefoy seems to be well and situated in Freya by now, which is a good thing. His greeting, however, is mildly er, nonexistent and he sounds almost up to his eyeballs in unsures.] 

I have ah-- [he pauses, looking at something off-screen rather critically; those fine features and MANLY STUBBLE crinkling in distaste as if he just imagined his mother naked and frolicking with Rome... Which he'd had the misfortune of seeing once, actually--] Now, mes amis! I am not a judgmental man. [He just lies like a rug]

Mais-- Well, I could not help but notice the overwhelming amount of English that have been brought as fellow Traveler to Asgard.

[The hidden, or not so hidden message is I am DROWNING in the ENGLISH. Send help. ]

I am just wondering if there is a reason for this favoritism, hm? Why not say-- the French? If they wanted their city to be colorful again my culture is much more familiar with the expression. No offense, hm? Consider it a case of being homesick...

[He smiles, disarmingly, perhaps, fumbling with his pack of cigarettes before flicking the transmission off. WAY TO LITERALLY OFFEND HALF OF ASGARD, FRANCIS.]

Comments

[madamemoiselle]

[She feels as if she's accomplished something by being able to gossip and having someone agree with her, so that smile is marginally less sweet. But luckily, his advice offers an easy transition to the next set of people on her list]

Oh, I would kill them with kindness, but you know, it's really very hard when they actually want to kill you! Even Euri does, but she's too much of a coward to really do anything about it. How lucky for me, right?

[She chuckles, but forces her expression to look more somber and vulnerable and less... sadistically excited]

But there's a few people who aren't really cowards at all, and they're the ones that are scary. Would you believe that an angel has already killed me here? It's not very angelic at all.

[amant]

What?! [Not that the danger of nasty things being here is a foreign concept, considering those fae--] Darling, what have you been doing to make such enemies?

[madamemoiselle]

Ah...

[She draws back from the camera a bit, looking surprised. When she thinks about it, she's not even really sure why she's surprised, since of course that was a bit extreme for what most people are used to. It seems like the easiest thing to do is to just tell the truth, in this case,]

It's that I'm not human, basically. I'm a... Well, it's easiest to just say that I'm a vampire. We're a bit more than that, but that's the easy explanation.

[amant]

[LOLWUTYOU'RENOTSPARKLING. /brb, kicking away the America muse...

Now then! That's interesting... and for your honesty accept a questioning look.]

Consider this a first time-- I have encountered many people in my time but none that claimed to be a vampire. Then again, I am an idea shaped like a [horribly attractive, humble--] man so really, there are stranger things.

[Does this look like the face of a man that cares about being nibbled at? NOPE.]

Is it customary for everyone that dies here to come back? That is wholly convenient if it is...

Not that I ah, expect to find myself in need, yes?

[madamemoiselle]

[It's a good reaction, and one that she quite appreciates. It was so tiring when people dwelt too much on what she was. Besides, he had the sense to focus on what was really interesting about that anyways, in her opinion. The smile returns with warmth, and she shrugs slightly]

I don't know if it's customary... I haven't heard of anyone else dying, so who knows? If it isn't, I guess I'm just lucky.

[But—to return to the interesting thing that he said,] Hey, but what do you mean, an idea shaped like a man? I don't really understand, I'm afraid.

[amant]

You should share some of that luck with the more ah, companionable sorts among us, ouais? [And by "among us" he means himself. Ickle desire for self-preservation and a new found mortality makes Francis an itchy boy.]

Well, I am a nation. France, to be specific, though I have been called by different names-- [Oh, and he's not referring to all the colorful ones he's been called in the past and certainly not 'surrender monkey' because hell, where'd THAT come from?] A personification. See, I have appeared to be a twenty-six year old man for the past century or so.

[madamemoiselle]

A nation?

[The look of curiosity is very genuine, and not at all faked for once. It's a very strange concept to wrap her head around. How does that even work? But luckily Diva really isn't much of a thinker, so she can just sort of accept it as something very strange. It's not like she's normal herself.]

...Ah, what should I call you, then? Just "France?" [clearly this is the most important thing to address, yes]

[amant]

[Hey, he doesn't know how it works out either. One day, they simply exist and go on from there. God, he was a teenager forever though-- can you IMAGINE how bad THAT was? Uck. Bad.

Have a thoughtful look, Diva.]

Well, my name is France, though along the line more human names developed. For ease to some, as it were. It depends on whether or not you wish to call me for what I am or Francis.

[CLEARLY WAS APPEASING THE ENGLISH WITH THAT. B( The nicer French folk go for Francois.]