Francis Bonnefoy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
silencetoreason) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
animus_network2013-10-17 10:00 pm
silencetoreason) wrote in animus_network2013-10-17 10:00 pm
Entry tags:
{cinq} video/action
[The feed blinks on to a close-up of blond hair. The mic just barely picks up the sound of someone muttering in a thick French accent.]
How do I get this stupid thing to-- Augh, I hate these-- [The shot of hair is replaced by one blue eye, which quickly blinks in surprise.] Aah!
[France moves back until he's in the frame properly, and, contrary to how he just sounded, he looks vibrant. Sparkling eyes, pink cheeks, bouncy hair; it seems he's finally getting over his stint on his dead world (as much as a nation can get over something like that, anyway). What's more, there's a small white bird fluttering around his head, chirping noisily.
France greets the viewers with a flourish.]
Bonjour, mes amis! How are you feeling? Well, I hope! The chill of fall is setting in, and big brother France wishes to keep you all warm, ohonhon~
[He hugs himself and sways side-to-side in his seat, filled to the brim with energy. His bird seems just as cheerful as France does, its high-pitched chirps overlapping with his (very stereotypically French) laughter. After a moment of that, they both seem to tire themselves out, and France lets out a long sigh and purses his lips. The bird lands on his shoulder.]
Though I am afraid that is not why I am fiddling with this ghastly computer, friends. You see, these clothes of mine have gotten terribly dingy. I know how to make my own, of course, but... [He looks off to the side and shudders, like he's remembering some frightening memory.] The floor with all the sewing supplies does not have a very, euhh, shall we say, hospitable air to it..
[He smiles again and claps his hands together, bright and eager. The bird flutters in surprise.]
So! If any of you are bored, or longing for companionship while the weather grows oh-so-cold, I would love to have some company while I work. You see, my poor Pierre refuses to go back to that floor with me. Isn't that right, Pierre?
[He nuzzles the bird and tickles under its beak with the tip of his finger, and it chirps in affirmation. France gives a solemn nod and turns back to the computer.]
I would even be willing to make some clothing for you to show my gratitude. The quality of the fabric in this place leaves much to be desired, but rest assured, once I am finished, you will look like you have just stepped off of a runway in Paris!
[He leans forward and flashes the camera a softer, flirtier smile.]
Well then, how about it~? Any takers?
[action]
[For those who've decided to take France up on his offer (or for anyone who happens to be heading to the floor regardless), he's on floor 51, sketching designs into a book or fiddling with fabric. He glances over his shoulder often, paying special attention to the mannequins scattered all around. Friend or stranger, he greets whoever happens to be walking by. His bird is nowhere to be seen.]
Hello! Comment allez-vous?
How do I get this stupid thing to-- Augh, I hate these-- [The shot of hair is replaced by one blue eye, which quickly blinks in surprise.] Aah!
[France moves back until he's in the frame properly, and, contrary to how he just sounded, he looks vibrant. Sparkling eyes, pink cheeks, bouncy hair; it seems he's finally getting over his stint on his dead world (as much as a nation can get over something like that, anyway). What's more, there's a small white bird fluttering around his head, chirping noisily.
France greets the viewers with a flourish.]
Bonjour, mes amis! How are you feeling? Well, I hope! The chill of fall is setting in, and big brother France wishes to keep you all warm, ohonhon~
[He hugs himself and sways side-to-side in his seat, filled to the brim with energy. His bird seems just as cheerful as France does, its high-pitched chirps overlapping with his (very stereotypically French) laughter. After a moment of that, they both seem to tire themselves out, and France lets out a long sigh and purses his lips. The bird lands on his shoulder.]
Though I am afraid that is not why I am fiddling with this ghastly computer, friends. You see, these clothes of mine have gotten terribly dingy. I know how to make my own, of course, but... [He looks off to the side and shudders, like he's remembering some frightening memory.] The floor with all the sewing supplies does not have a very, euhh, shall we say, hospitable air to it..
[He smiles again and claps his hands together, bright and eager. The bird flutters in surprise.]
So! If any of you are bored, or longing for companionship while the weather grows oh-so-cold, I would love to have some company while I work. You see, my poor Pierre refuses to go back to that floor with me. Isn't that right, Pierre?
[He nuzzles the bird and tickles under its beak with the tip of his finger, and it chirps in affirmation. France gives a solemn nod and turns back to the computer.]
I would even be willing to make some clothing for you to show my gratitude. The quality of the fabric in this place leaves much to be desired, but rest assured, once I am finished, you will look like you have just stepped off of a runway in Paris!
[He leans forward and flashes the camera a softer, flirtier smile.]
Well then, how about it~? Any takers?
[action]
[For those who've decided to take France up on his offer (or for anyone who happens to be heading to the floor regardless), he's on floor 51, sketching designs into a book or fiddling with fabric. He glances over his shoulder often, paying special attention to the mannequins scattered all around. Friend or stranger, he greets whoever happens to be walking by. His bird is nowhere to be seen.]
Hello! Comment allez-vous?