OPEN RP POST
Mar. 15th, 2015 01:05 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Haven't threaded with me before but want to try something different than how you found this journal? That's fine too! I'm always open to new RP partners. If you have questions, feel free to shoot me a PM if you're more comfortable that way. |
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Date: 2015-03-15 12:02 pm (UTC)"Thank you sir, but only if you are certain. Most places probably won't accept a person like me. I really don't mind if you only spare a bit of cash."
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Date: 2015-03-15 12:11 pm (UTC)France waved a hand, almost negligently. "I am. Unless you would prefer a hot shower and new clothes, I believe we may be near enough in size that you would fit some of my old clothes."
England would quite possibly throw a fit, if he learned of this generosity to one of his citizens. All the more reason to do it. "Consider it a gift of the day - for it is a beautiful day, yes?"
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Date: 2015-03-15 12:19 pm (UTC)"Oh no, sir! I could never impose that way!"
Almost without noticing his English accent slips, ever so slightly, in his surprise, sliding to something much, much older.
"Your kindness does you credit, sir, but I would not wish to impose."
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Date: 2015-03-15 12:29 pm (UTC)"It is no imposition," he managed, though the tone was no least earnest. He tilted his head a little, another smile thrown Maglor's way. "Sing me another song, if you wish to repay me, though I feel your company would be gift enough."
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Date: 2015-03-15 12:39 pm (UTC)"I... I can do that. It seems a small enough payment sir. What do you wish to hear? I do know most of the more popular tunes on the radio."
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Date: 2015-03-15 12:46 pm (UTC)He ducked his head a little, a soft chuckle escaping before he swept a hand out in the direction he'd been walking before he'd heard that voice call to him. "This way."
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Date: 2015-03-15 01:05 pm (UTC)"Thank you again sir."
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Date: 2015-03-15 01:14 pm (UTC)It really wasn't even about England at all, though he expected he'd bring it up with the other nation later. Flaunt it in their usual bickering way.
When Maglor was ready, and those words of gratitude again expressed, he simply smiled again and shook his head before starting to lead the way. "There is no need. A voice like yours deserves to be cherished, be it English or non."
A little slip was forgiveable, right?
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Date: 2015-03-15 01:28 pm (UTC)"You flatter me, sir. I am no one special."
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Date: 2015-03-15 01:55 pm (UTC)If he could breathe. "I am an excellent judge of the arts - I know a talent when I witness it." No hint of doubt touched his voice. That was simply how he'd become. More like his older self's half brother than what he'd been.
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Date: 2015-03-15 02:16 pm (UTC)"Even so. It has been a long time since any told me that." Longer than you could know
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Date: 2015-03-15 02:35 pm (UTC)Still, the smile turned a little wistful as age also crept into his gaze. "Too long," he murmured. Fortunately for both their nerves, the town house he maintained in the city where he stayed when he didn't want to go all the way to his manor was just around the corner. He led the way up the stairs, and opened the door with a playful little flourish to usher the other inside. "Welcome to my home away from home." Not quite right. Anywhere in France was his home, the core of his new self.
The outside might be plain to look at, melding in with the rest, but the inside held a bit of his heart, though nothing from his older self. Aside from very subtle hints that only those who had known him then would see.
Meaning no one he spent any time with. But that may change. And he watched his guest closely for signs of recognition. A curl in the wood. A scent in the air. A painting that wasn't quite of the New, but near enough no one knew to question - or commented on the imagination of the painter. Not aware it was France himself who had done the works.
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Date: 2015-03-15 11:42 pm (UTC)A white city with a tall tower rising against the mountain in the background.
It could be any fantasy city, the image abstract enough to be anything and anywhere, but oh Maglor knows that tower, he knows the shape of that city, he knows that mountain, and the Music crests triumphantly HOME.
It isn't right, it can't be right, England is his home now, it is where he laid his heart, he can't go back, he can never go back, that road is closed to him forever and he is content here, he is!.
A stumbling step forward before he can master himself, pulling shattered masks firmly about himself, France can't know, it must be a trick of his eyes, that's all, it's nothing, it's nothing.
"I... I should. I should go. I... such a place is... is not fit for such as I"
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Date: 2015-03-16 03:45 am (UTC)Safe enough, though he found himself leaning against the sturdy door, heart and mind racing and yet thoughts still. A name. The fingers of a hand curled, straining to maintain his composure as he looked back at his companion. Still searching as he listened to the protests, weak and almost a panic to the voice.
"What...is your name?"
Not English. Not French. A language far older than either combined. The language his old self had grown up with. But he couldn't help that question in that language. Not now. When it was painful to wait for a reply.
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Date: 2015-03-16 06:55 am (UTC)His sword, where? No, it's still in the guitar case. No, it's France, Nations don't normally interfere but then why, why why is he so familiar?
And then France speaks in a language he has heard only in his dreams (even his ghosts mostly speak to him in English now, and Maglor never noticed the switch) and he reels backwards, away, with a sob, the answer coming automatically in the same.
"Who are you? Why do you know that language? This isn't funny, I want to wake up!"
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Date: 2015-03-16 07:13 am (UTC)It hurt to speak that language again. Tore at him in a way he'd never have expected. Just as it hurt to hear it spoken back.
"Who I am now is not who I once was. I..." Could he say it? His former name? He gave himself a hard shake and straightened his shoulders, stood straight in a force of will that was more akin to his old self.
"When I lived in the Blessed Realm... I was known as Finarfin. Arafinwë."
His expression firmed, though remained somewhat gentle as he stared at the other. "Your name."
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Date: 2015-03-16 07:29 am (UTC)"Can't be you. Uncle is beyond my reach. Just like everyone else. The road is closed, I'm alone. This is a dream. I want to wake up!"
His hand goes to claw at the scars on his right, digging in deep enough to draw blood.
"Uncle would know who I am!"
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Date: 2015-03-16 07:37 am (UTC)It had to be... France shook his head again and stumbled forward after him, hands moving to reach for the other.
"Makalaure... Do not run from me," the plea was barely stronger than a whisper. "I... I thought it..." Sense was gone. But it hardly mattered, as long as he reached his nephew and stopped those fingers from drawing more blood.
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Date: 2015-03-16 08:46 am (UTC)"Makalaure is dead, he's dead, it can't be you, it can't"
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Date: 2015-03-16 09:11 am (UTC)He reached for those clawing hands again, aching to stop him. Grabbing hold finally, he did his best to drag him close with all the strength a nation could use.
"Stop! I cannot bear for you to harm yourself so!"
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Date: 2015-03-16 09:27 am (UTC)"Let me go!"
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Date: 2015-03-16 09:34 am (UTC)"I will not. I...I cannot beart it, not again. Not here and now." He'd made the mistake of letting him go before. Fault or not, he felt he should have been able to stay at his family's side.
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Date: 2015-03-16 09:42 am (UTC)"I can't be awake. You can't be here, you can't be him. The Song is lying. You're all gone."
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Date: 2015-03-16 09:46 am (UTC)"The Song does not lie. I am, and am not your uncle. I think... you know what I am now."
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Date: 2015-03-16 09:52 am (UTC)(no subject)
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From:and then a silmaril washes up on a beach in france somewhere and everything goes to pot the end
From:ajsdlfkjad That happens and France RUNS LIKE HELL
From:SMART MAN XD
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From:>3
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From:/casually leans on fourth wall
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From:/walks right through fourth wall
From:OMG XD
From:Re: OMG XD
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