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[stbattenberg]

"Hello? Hello. Yes ... I must say, I don't approve of speaking into a little flat box, this is stupid. If the world has any sense, the practice will die out quickly. But I digress, I'm meant to be recording my voice for others to listen to, I suppose. And then they will record their voice, and I'll have to listen to it. Why can we not simply talk to each other? Or send a letter. Yes, send me a letter. I'm done with this nonsense."

Comments

text to action; cont.

[amant]

[A few days after that horrible mess a letter arrives via small, annoying bird. Looks like a dove. The handwriting is full of graceful loops, neatly spaced. France's handwriting hasn't changed for a solid century or two. The letter is simple and to the point, stating the following:]

Sebastian,

I want to extend an apology to you for any misunderstandings branching from that horrible farce of an advertisement. There are certain aspects of my life that I do not wish to broadcast so publically. You are one of the first I got to meet while here, and as such, I think you deserve to have a better explanation.

If it suits you, I can meet you and we can discuss this in person. Please let me know a time and place that works for you. Send your response back with Pierre. Yes, he's quite used to this.

Until then,
Francis

[stbattenberg]

[Sebastian certainly hadn't expected to receive any letters from anyone here, so he's surprised to see Pierre, whom he assumes is some sort of little pigeon. He has no birdseed, but he's fed bread to pigeons in the park a few times when he's been to larger towns or cities, so he finds some in his shared dormitory, slightly stale, and tears off a few pieces to offer to the messenger while he reads over the letter.

The big man is honestly delighted to hear from Francis - he had seemed like a very agreeable fellow in person. At this point, he's written off their exchange over the ad as a misunderstanding. It hadn't made any sense, so it must have been, and Sebastian doesn't particularly want to be upset with the other man. Seeing in writing that Francis is affirming this is a relief, though he hadn't realized until this moment that he'd been hoping for contact again.]

You'll have to wait a moment, Pierre. [He tells the bird, amused at his name.

Then he digs around for some paper and a pen, annoyed at the lack of proper stationary, before finally producing his response. His writing style is far more formal than his speech - the man is from an era where written exchanges are not the cheap and quick missives of the 21st century.]

Dear Francis,

I hope this letter finds you well. I was delighted to hear from you, and I trust you have been managing in this terrible place. I should like very much to meet with you, and we can discuss whatever you would like. I would never want to pry a man's secrets from him, I am certain we all have aspects of our lives that are best left unremarked upon. However, I will assure you that any confidences you choose to reveal to me will be kept exceedingly close to the vest.

As I am currently without employment, and I have nothing of value to barter with, I am unable to offer a meeting place in a more pleasant environment. However, we could meet at Red Wall Bridge, as I occasionally take the air there, and it is more conducive to conversation than the park. We could meet there tomorrow evening at five o'clock, and if you wish, I would be my pleasure to host you in my home for a meal.

Sincerely yours,
Sebastian St. Battenberg

[Letter written, he rolls it tightly and attaches it to Pierre, letting the bird out the window with a smile. Sebastian is not a great cook (though he's passable), but he feels it would be a poor offer if he couldn't feed a potential friend. And truthfully, the idea of real company, someone he enjoys conversing with, is an exciting one.]

[amant]

[There are certain reasons as to why France thinks it's important to keep a few secrets close to his chest. The message had been of some comfort to some of his concerns that Sebastian's offense running too deeply, and he'd quickly sent a message back to the man to let him know he would like to meet him at the bridge.

He doesn't know what to expect when he heads toward the bridge. There have been few times where he's every hidden who he was back home, and this is altogether new. Sebastian is a good man, and one that he actually likes, so he's willing to make a few exceptions.

For once, he's actually on time. There may be no sunlight here, but seeing his friend made him smile.]

Sebastian! Are you doing alright?

[Nerves knotted briefly in his stomach but they release after a deep breath and he extends a hand, already anticipating a grip that's too tight.]

[stbattenberg]

[But Sebastian's shake this time, while very firm, is warm and not at all painful. It seems the vise grip is only for new acquaintances - a point in favor of it being a sort of test as opposed to the big man simply being unaware of his own strength. He smiles widely as they clasp hands, and his enthusiasm is obviously, and might put some people in mind of a rather large dog.

And for the first time, France will see Sebastian in his chosen clothes - a dark gray suit with a high collared shirt that only further cemented him in a particular moment in time. The suit has seen better days and is a bit tight across the shoulders, but it's impeccably clean and tidy.]

As well as can be expected here. I could complain, but would good would it do, haha! And yourself?

[amant]

[France is more of a cat person, but in Sebastian's case he will make a few exceptions. The sight of his friend makes him feel like he's stepped back a century which feels odd, in all honesty, but it's not the gentleman's fault. He relaxes after they break off the handshake.]

My friend, we have found ourselves in a pretty bad spot, haven't we? [Still, France seems almost calmly amused by the man's choice in humoring the situation. It's nothing unexpected from a man who has seen a few things in his time and France is grateful.] Complaining does nothing. Action does. [In time.] I am better now that I am in decent company.

After that mishap, I didn't think you'd be so willing to speak openly with me.

[stbattenberg]

Well, as you said, there was a misunderstanding! [Sebastian exclaims heartily, though there might just be a thread of tension running underneath that. He really, really doesn't want to find out that Francis is some sort of ancient monster or creature that feeds on others to extend his life. He just seemed so, well, normal compared to many of the people Sebastian's met here, so easy to talk to, despite his very Frenchness.]

As long as you're not a vampire or sacrificing children to dark gods, eh? Ha! [The 'ha!' is very nervous indeed, and the wider Sebastian's smile grows, the more strained it gets.]

[amant]

[Sebastian is going to crack with that tension if he's not careful. As he's listing a few of the things France definitely should not be admitting to being, the blond looks increasingly amused. The strain does not hit his smile and he laughs. Not at Sebastian's expense, of course.]

My God. No. I am not a vampire and I love children! I could never sacrifice them!

[His expression seems to catch up with the things he just clarified and he gave Sebastion a questioning look] Wait -- have you met people that sacrifice children?! I feel as if I need an explanation or at least a name...

[stbattenberg]

Not here! [Sebastian says hastily, raising a hand in reassurance. His shoulders relax, though, at the affirmation that Francis is not a monster, and some of the strain slips from his expression.] Or rather, I've heard there are vampires here, and I've met a fellow half-cursed as such, but no one's admitted anything about children to me.

[Back home ... well, he has his suspicions. But he has not yet come to the point in his life where he'll have to face definitive proof of such activities.]

[amant]

[Should he find relief that Sebastian wasn't referring to their current home or be concerned for the man if he were to ever return? Important questions as the evening drew on. He did have a reason to come to the bridge, and he squares his shoulders a bit, smiling absentmindedly at the continued conversation.]

I've met a few interesting people as well, including a vampire. It's kind of fun, in a way. What childhood stories will you find to be true in this place?

[Lore, mainly. Not in the sense of "Oh that's Ariel from The Little Mermaid!]

Though my kind isn't mentioned in fairy tale, unfortunately. [He shifts his stance from one foot to the other and gestures ahead of them. Maybe a nice walk would help loosen the lips?] You told me when we met you were a soldier in the Great War, right? Did you fight in France, by chance?

[stbattenberg]

Of course. [The battles for the Western Front ... they're not memories he enjoys, but he's willing to explain for Francis.] I was part of the offensive at Champagne - we were there 4 months, all told. And I was at Ypres, as well, for their second battle. They used gas, there. [And his voice goes far away, a little dead. It was the first time he'd seen such a tactic used directly, and it had been horrifying.]

And the Battle of the Somme, in 1916. [He seems to come back to himself, and makes a poor attempt at a smile to Francis.] So I suppose I've seen rather a lot of your country, though in poorer circumstances than I'd wish.

[amant]

[His attention flickers at the mention of Ypres. The gas had been a turning point that still made him feel unsettled and a century has come and gone. A lot of things had made their impression upon him, in the literal sense as much emotionally.

There are things about Sebastian that make sense the more they talk and he doesn't suppress the urge to pat him on the back, the lines of his mouth going soft as he looked up at him. It's not quite a smile, but there's empathy there. Something they can share with one another.]

I still remember it like yesterday. How old it makes me feel when I acknowledge that it has been thousands of yesterdays since those years robbed us of so much. But, that's not why I asked you if you for a moment of your time.

[He pauses long enough to mentally prepare himself, but he doesn't automatically slip into confession time. Not with his next words.]

As I was saying, I'm very old Sebastian. I've seen many things, too. There are certain duties and obligations that I have to follow. It's part of the reason I tried to get some of that information pulled from the public eye.

The truth is, I am France. The embodiment thereof, you see. It's quite common back home though I cannot tell you why we exist. It's weird to be so hesitant about sharing this with people, but I have no idea why we were taken from our homes really, and I have a duty to my people...

[He chances a glance at the man once more, mild apprehension setting the lines of his otherwise youthful face.]

There's just something about you I can't help but trust, I suppose. I know you will not broadcast who I am, but can we still be friends? I made you a few promises on the boat that I would eventually like to fulfill.

[stbattenberg]

[Sebastian just stares at France. Of all the things he'd thought he might hear from the other man, this had been nowhere on the list. He would have laughed at anyone who suggested it - what an absurd concept! But of all the people he's met here (and he's met a few now that he quite likes, that he feels are doing good work, or are good people), Francis (France?) is the one he's felt the most comfortable with, he's laughed the most with, that he's been the happiest to see when they meet or talk. This doesn't seem like the sort of thing the man would joke about, and it's the most far-fetched prank that he can imagine.

Ultimately, though, it may be that the concept is simply too big for him. All the ramifications, the questions: does France always look like a man? Had he ever been a child? Does war or natural disaster cause physical damage to his body? Does he have control over his people, or can he know their hearts? In a way, it makes things simpler - Sebastian is not much of a philosopher, nor is his mind suited to complicated twists and turns. He accepts, and perhaps gratefully, because there have been far, far worse things he's had to accept in his life. Things that have come very close to breaking his mind completely. This, by comparison, seems manageable.

He's not a touchy-feely man (about as far from it as one can get), but he knows that France is. And so awkwardly, with probably a little more force than necessary, he thumps the blond on the shoulder.]

I always thought you were a woman in a red hat, with her, ah, breasts out.

[amant]

[If the urge to pick him apart ever does arise, France would be more than happy to answer questions. He's had to answer a few even back home where nations were a commonly accepted thing. He's positive that only Vietnam and England are here with him in Duplicity, so the same cannot be said about his new reality.

France can also find relief that for the moment, Sebastian isn't delving deep into his entire backstory. Acceptance was a gift that sometimes France even overlooked the importance of. He isn't completely knocked from his feet, though he is tipped forward onto his toes a bit at the thump on the back. Balance is a grace he's been gifted with. No harm, no foul.

Rather, he's distracted by the summary of how his friend thought he should look like, laughter coming naturally. It's genuine.]

Marianne?! No! I mean, I would not protest to being a woman, certainly but...

[His face scrunches in thought before brightening considerably]

Spain was heartbroken when he discovered that I was not a girl, actually. We were much younger though, before this...

[The scruff on his chin, that is. Yes. France was at one point a child. A very pretty child that wore pretty tunics and flower crowns. Ugh.]

[stbattenberg]

[Spain ... ah, yes, and of course this means there are other countries, as well. That's even more mind-boggling.]

I expect you're pretty enough to be one, or were when you were younger, but you don't look much like a woman. [Sebastian points out. More than that, there's a certain masculine air about France, a swagger that the big man does not associate with femininity. And he's known some very strong, straight-forward women in his time.]

... what's England like?

[Because of course he has to ask.]

[amant]

Oh, especially not now; no, I'd think not. I was quite fair when I was a child.

['Child' is forced out, as far as one could hear. The reason for his dissatisfaction with that part of his identity comes from a childhood that severely lacked the carefree abandon of actual childhood. He sighs to himself and offers Sebastian a smile to smooth over the roughness that may have pushed through. Considering Sebastian's first encounter with France being on the boat, donned in lace and makeup, that truly is impressive. Swagger came from a history thick in shame though! Alas!

The question, as expected as it could be given that Sebastian is from the isles, makes him laugh.]

You are asking France what England is like?

[He glances at him, skeptically. For a moment he has to remind himself this man is from a time when the Entente was fresh and their alliance was in full force and while he would never wish to relive those years directly after, he can't help but miss being in the man's favor. He pulls his vest in closer and frowns.]

He's not a horrible man, despite our many -- many -- disagreements. Imagine what a stormy island would act like. He fits the bill.

[Moody, pensive, and self-deprecating all ticked off. The smile is a little more forced.]

We're not getting along as well as we could, given how our governments are acting toward one another. It's complicated. [Biggest understatement ever. For a moment, his cheeks color as the errant thought of Sebastian meeting him after England had gotten to him on the boat pops into his mind. The first impression would have been vastly different.]

[stbattenberg]

[Sebastian blinks - his most visceral memories of his time in France have forged a strong bond with the French in his own mind. He doesn't truly understand the culture there (people were always touching each in France, women cuddling their children, people kissing in public), but he had stood with French soldiers. He had done his best to save French civilians, women and children and old men, and he had seen them in their suffering, and he had seen them die, the same as he had seen his fellow Englishmen perish. They had all been through it together. It's hard to imagine not remaining fast allies after that - hell, not remaining friends.

But while he wasn't a very good pupil in school, he knows enough of his history to remember things hadn't always been that way. There had been bitter wars - the Hundred Years War and the Napoleonic wars, just to name a few. Complicated probably doesn't even begin to describe it. Or the man any personification of England must be.]

Yes. I suppose so. [He can't say he's not disappointed, but it's hardly France's fault, so he forces a smile and a hearty tone of voice instead.]

You have excellent bread, though!

Christmas morning

[paradoxpoint]

[A parcel is left at Sebastian's doorstep, a simple white card attached.]

Merry Christmas.

- A

P.S. Sorry about the other day.

[Inside is a fine, classic trench coat.]