rukhgate | Un ⚜ Arrivée

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Un ⚜ Arrivée

[France has absolutely no idea what had just happened. All he remembers is that one minute, he was at home... and the next he had walked through that door, and been enrolled in a school for magicians (which didn't exist, by the way) and assigned to a kodor, or... something like that. And now maref was being held the next day - at least, that was what his papers had said. They really seemed to enjoy making their new students hit the ground running.

Still, this was all a little too much to take in, even for a nation who prided himself on being able to adapt to almost any situation. So there he is, sitting in the courtyard, with his few things collected together into his lap, trying to soak everything in. It's still so surreal, despite how Earth-like it may seem to him - like this is some sort of dream.

He glanced briefly at his arm, and the hideous... thing they'd put there - they'd called in the Rukh's Eye, a way of communication in this world. Initially he'd refused it, but they'd forcibly rolled up his sleeve and shoved it onto his arm. After staring at it for another moment, he quickly pulled down his sleeve to hide it as best he could, before standing up. Well! There was no way he was going to learn about this place if he didn't do something. So he turned to the nearest person, and approached them, smiling, with a question.]

Pardonnez-moi... I am new here, if you could not tell... do you by any chance know where the, ah, maref rooms are...?

(( ooc: You can find him anywhere you like - perhaps you're the person he asked for directions, or maybe you meet him as he's snooping around the area, or even as he's going to the dormitories and getting settled in! Just put where you want to meet him in the subject <3 ~~also if you're a pretty lady, watch out, he flirts~~ ))

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Maref rooms? I could show you, sir.

[ French? New people are coming from all over the worlds, huh. Sayaka takes note of that as she regards the man with a smile. ]

[Sir? But this girl's got to be 16 at least! Ugh, does he really look that old? The distaste on his face is, while muted, still pretty evident.]

Please, mademoiselle, you may call me Francis. Really, I do not mind! In fact I think I would prefer it.

I hate to bother you, I am sure you are very busy, mais... this is all so sudden. Does it take a while to become adjusted to this place?

Okay, Francis... you're not bothering me. I was just about to head over there, actually.

[ Well. ] If you come from a world where magic was non-existant, it does take a few days to adjust. It depends on how familiar you are with the place, really.

[Oh hello France. Last time New Zealand met you you were about to get stuck in trench warfare, so seeing him while distraught healthily and well is actually a bit of a relief. ~~Though the brunet has to wonder how long it will take for England to blow up on him.~~

Anyway, France found the library and Kiwi is currently manning the front desk, so there will be a short wave at the older nation.]

Good afternoon!

[~~probably not very long~~

Francis doesn't seem to recognize the library clerk at first, but after a moment, there's a glint of recognition in his bright blue eyes.]

... Nouvelle... Zélande? You are here, too? [He doesn't seem to like the sounds of that. Regardless, he approaches the front desk, quietly, trying not to disturb anyone reading.] What are you doing behind the desk?

[Well, there is the delay until they recognize each other to count into the equation...]

Working! It's a nice pocket money. [And besides, you start to get nostalgic and want to work with paper after a while. There are the oddest cures for homesickness really, and doing something resembling paperwork is one of them.] So you're new, I guess?

Working? How long have you been in this place?

[At the question, he can't help but give a little shrug.] It seems so. Honestly, I am not sure what to think of it all.

[He leans a bit closer in, letting out a sigh.] They really expect us to go to school, here?

Well over a month, now - though I haven't been working here for very long, and it really is only a few hours a week. I couldn't do much more between classes, the required attendance is rather high.

[Going to stack a few books into a small cart and then turn back to France.] And yes, we have to go to school, no matter how old we are or look.

[French. England glares at the (admittedly quite handsome) man asking her for directions. French.] They're just down the hall, follow the sound of exhausted screams and the smell of blood.

[My, what a chilly reception. Francis simply tries to counterbalance this by increasing the warmth in his smile.] Merci beaucoup, mademoiselle.

[He would happily have gone on his way with a headnod and a smile, but there's something about her... it's really familiar, unnervingly so.] I suppose I should introduce myself, non? I am Francis. [And he happily extends a hand to her.]

[The pigtails and really-quite-normal eyebrows might throw him off, yes, but those eyes should be very, very familiar.]

[But anyway, even if he is French, England decides there's no real call to be so rude to a complete stranger.] You're quite welcome, dear. [Shakes his hand, trying to wonder what this niggling feeling at the back of her mind is trying to tell her.] You may call me England, or Miss Kirkland, if you wish.

[And they are, almost maddeningly so. But France disregards it for now, mostly because he's intent on being a respectable gentleman at the moment.

He finds her calling him "dear" kind of cute - assuming she's human, poor thing doesn't realize he's thousands of years older than her. But that all changes when she introduces herself. His hand pauses as he tries to process her words.]

... Kirkland? Angleterre? [A beat, then he mutters to himself in French for a moment.] Ce n'est pas possible.

[But the more that he looks at her... those familiar eyes... and surely, if this was Arthur as a woman he would have been recognized.]

... mademoiselle Kirkland, does the name Bonnefoy mean anything to you?

[French person who knows the name Bonnefoy and recognises Kirkland and England and in a place where there are male nations running about the very familiar way he says her name]

[It doesn't take long for realisation to dawn on England, she's been aware it was a possibility for some time now, after all, and she has an instinct for these things. It's not certain, of course, but England's body realises what is going on a few seconds before the possibility reaches her brain. Horrified, she instinctively slaps France right across the cheek.

So yes, she does recognise him in a way...] You!

[He's aware of her recognition - he can almost see the wheels churning in her head as everything starts clicking into place. But a moment later--]

Aïe-! [He isn't expecting the slap because it came out of absolutely nowhere (at least, as far as he was concerned). So he barely has any time to react to it other than move his hand up to cover the blow when it's all said and done.]

What in the name of god was that for?!

You know precisely what! [You frightened her and she reacted instinctively...] It's you, isn't it? You! [England, you are making so much sense here, really.] Don't think you can hide from me behind that ridiculous beard, Marianne!

[... that really hurt ;; He's going to rub his cheek a bit as he scowls.] Non, I do not know precisely what. Introducing myself and asking for directions hardly deserves a slap to the face.

C'est vrai - I am François Bonnefoy, Francis, if you prefer... La République française. Hesitantly at your service, mademoiselle Kirkland.

[His scowl turns into a downright shocked expression as she mentions his beard.] Ridicul-? How is my beard ridiculous?

It was so pleasant here before! Magic! Flying carpets! Even those strange men weren't spoiling it! And they'd only invited the sensible people from our world, I can quite stand Germany and New Zealand! [Looks down right depressed.] Why must you spoil everything?

[... Sigh, okay, deep breath. This isn't quite France, not really, no need to over react. Calm down.]

Rosemary Kirkland, England. [...] Look, I'll apologise for slapping you but you really shouldn't startle people like that. [Not apologising for the beard thing though.]

I did not ask to be brought here. I would much prefer sitting at home, myself. Mais, if I make this place so... detestable to you... then I will leave you be. Au revoir. [He bows curtly, and begins to turn to make his leave.]

[But as he's turning away, she speaks up again. Rosemary? He has to admit it's sort of... cute. He stops where he is, turns back, and gives almost a sort of half-smile.]

You are forgiven. Though I am not sure how you were startled, mademoiselle Angleterre. And for the record? My beard... it is not ridiculous. It is... distinguished.

Well, if you were talking to someone quite normally and then suddenly realised they were France, you'd panic too. And it'd be ridiculous on France. [...] Though quite amusing, now I think of it.

If I suddenly realized such a thing, I would welcome them with open arms. But this is all beside the point. [He sort of dismisses the current topic with a little wave of his hand, as if brushing it away.]

May I ask you a few more questions, Rosemary? [With his accent, it's coming out more like "Rose Marie", however.]

I'm sure you would.

... I suppose, if you must. [God damn why is French sexy, she kind of finds that endearing.] And it's Rosemary.

[Well, Estonia had had no real reason to complain about his rooming situation before, but that was because he didn't have to share a room. Not that he wasn't used to it, after plenty of long years at Russia's (and Sweden's and Denmark's and Poland's and everyone's) house. He just wasn't looking forward to rooming with a stranger. Or... someone a little less than a stranger, as things were looking presently.]

Uh. France? [He'll just stand in the doorway, and give an awkward little clearing of his throat, fresh back from studying on France's first night in the dorm.]

[France has just barely made it back to the room when he hears a voice calling for him. He sits on the (previously unoccupied) side of the room, and has to turn from his position on the bed to see who it is. But at the recognition of his fellow nation, Francis stands up.]

Estonie... bonsoir. [He smiles a bit, relieved it's someone he knows. At the same time, he has to ask...] Just how many of us... have been brought here?

[Being pretty new here ~~and rather nosy~~ himself, Boris often looks for chances to wander off on his own. This time there's someone else slinking down halls and peering around corners, though, and that's just a little bit too interesting to ignore.]

Oi. [Have a grin.] Are you trouble or lost?

[Well, he wouldn't call it sneaking - so much as he would call it one of the many moments of hesitation in his life. He's never been to such a bizarre place before, where flying carpets are the norm and he could pull off... well, whatever that beam of light had been. So perhaps he's being a little... extra-cautious but really, he's just getting his bearings.

Francis is actually a bit startled when someone interrupts him, especially with someone who... honestly looks like he's dressed in a cosplay.]

Non non non, nothing like trouble! [He does smile though, turning toward Boris and approaching him.] I suppose "lost" would best describe me now, however. I am new here, you see, m'sieur.

[Whatever puts you to sleep at night, buddy.

Boris has decided that he likes this stranger's tone and accent, though, if that's at all evidenced by the little swish of his tail at that last word. There are so many interesting people here.]

It's not all that hard to get an idea of the place once you look around. I'm new here, too. [By the way, it seems people don't exactly take it well if they find you in their room...]

[... did that tail just... move? Well, things were getting stranger here by the minute. After his initial bout of shock, Francis tries to compose himself again and smile.]

Ah, I thought not. Still, it is good to have that fact confirmed. [He seems a little surprised, but very interested, in Boris' last statement.] You are, too? How long have you been here?

[Don't think he didn't see those expressions, mister. Fortunately, the question has him preoccupied, and his ears dip back while he thinks about how to answer.]

Really new. I've only been around a couple days. That's another thing; the time here's weird, isn't it? [You know, just in case you were from someplace like home. If you are he certainly doesn't recognise you.]

They are located in that building over there.

[Tazendra gestured. She appears to be practicing some type of combat with a staff, but if France knows anything about pre-gunpowder warfare, the drills would be better suited to a large blade.]

[Francis does notice that almost right off the bat - he's lived in Europe for at least two millennia, of course he knows about that sort of thing. He takes note of it, but doesn't bother to mention it yet - he's sure he can find a better opportunity to mention it. Instead, he turns his attention to the beautiful woman whom, for now, he's caught the attention of.]

Merci beaucoup, mademoiselle. Am I interrupting you? I have a few more questions, if I may.

Well, if they are brief. I do not like to disrupt my daily exercise.

Ah, bien sûr. [He gives her a little headnod as means of thanks.] I suppose the first thing I should ask is for your name, mademoiselle.

I am Tazendra Lavode, Baroness of Daavya. And you?

Did you lose your map already? [Came the scolding as Germany barely pauses in piling up her books in the library.]

Ah... there was a map? I did not think I saw one.

[And, with the smallest bit of a frown, he begins digging through the little stack of papers he'd collected since his arrival.]

Pardonnez-moi. It seems I do not have one. You would not happen to have a spare, would you, mademoiselle?

[... something about this woman is so familiar. But he can't quite place it.]

[It was the hair that caught Poland's attention. He'd recognize it anywhere; golden like a rye field, silky and bouncy, looked super fabulous with or without flowers woven in.

That was totally France's hair.

Normally he would have just run over to greet him, but after mistaking a stranger for Ukraine already he needed to be more careful. He was judging this from the back of their head after all, he needed to see their face to be sure they were France and not just some stranger with great conditioner.

Dropping to the ground on his hands and knees, Poland stealthily crawls over and slides underneath France's seat to catch a peek of his face from below.]

They totally got you too, huh?

Edited 2013-01-27 09:04 (UTC)

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Un ⚜ Arrivée

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I heard you were snooping, so here's another?

yessss snooping ouo

silly France, that tail is legit

Does he get to pet it >u>

Only if he's gentle >:[

Outside the dorms

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