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Player Information:
Name: Jackie
Journal:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
helikesitrough
Method of Contact: Plurk | MSN: FrancisFPBonnefoy@hotmail.com
Previous characters: None.
Character Information:
Full Name: Francis Bonnefoy { French Republic }
Series: Axis Powers Hetalia
Canon point: Modern-day
Age: Over 1000, though he appears no older than 26.
Species: Nation/Humanoid
Appearance/PB: Oh la la! He’s an Aryan child, blond hair and blue eyed. If it weren’t for his broad shoulders and facial hair he’d probably be confused for a womanlike he did when he was younger.
Appearance upon arrival: Average day-to-day wear like in the reference picture, no flower included.
History:
Previous RP memories: Not that’s applicable, nope.
Bringing someone along?: ONLY HIS SEXY SELF.
Character History:
- France: Hetalia Wiki
- Wikipedia: History of France
Personality:
There are surprising facets to Francis that get overlooked thanks to the nature of the Nations. He is so much more than a promiscuous playboy looking for the next cheap thrill.
Due to his reputation he has a difficult time being taken seriously. Jabs against him are easily thrown which leaves him frustrated and understandably needy for attention and positive attention at that. He harbors a need for reassurance that goes unspoken due to his pride. He has a series of accomplishments and hardships up to his ears, all of which he believes he has gracefully triumphed over. He does not have the military might other younger nations brag about but he has longevity and has gone through things he honestly does not believe his juniors possible of. His strength is quiet and he shows a great deal of patience overall.
He has no patience for certain people calling him a ‘cheese eating surrender monkey’ which goes against Francis’ penchant for enjoying a nice verbal spat. He’s used to the insults and has a strange way of letting them appear to roll off his back. An unyielding cheer, if you will. Like the insults, he is good at diverting his own personal responsibilities in the mistakes he makes.
Francis does not boast perfection, though he surrounds himself with high-class things. He knows what he wants, who he wants, and the means to get it. This leads him to be labeled as superficial and gaudy. Quite the contrary; he is happiest in the countryside with fresh air and a relaxed atmosphere though company is always necessary. An old man like him can get lost in his thoughts if left in solitude for too long.
Generally Francis is a kind man. He’s especially generous when his way is being had. He likes to think of himself as an older brother, a mentor of sorts, to his neighbors due to his age (but for the love of God, don’t call him old. It’s a double-edged sword with him). He has a strange sense of paternal affection for some and amorous flirtation with others. Francis isn’t the kind of man that will let stipulations get in the way of him expressing his emotions toward his extensive ‘family’.
Francis thinks that there are many boast-worthy aspects to his glorious person—others stubbornly deny these good qualities.
Frankly speaking, he is overconfident, smug, and very forward. Many think of him as self-absorbed though he’s not. Well, not completely. Francis is charming and enjoys making other people happy—and sometimes their happiness may reflect on his capabilities which only help out that inflated ego of his. No matter how irritating he can be with his laissez-faire attitude, people find themselves wanting to be around him. If you can get past the groping you’ll have a good friend. Dramatic, but good. If you can’t get past the groping, well… He’ll keep trying until you do, and enjoy the process of desensitizing.
At the end of the day, Francis is coping with being a very old man in the only ways he knows how to. He is his worst critic, can be deeply self-deprecating, and understands the power of a good lament. People come to him, and in a way love him, but he is not the Empire he used to be. He deals with the memories of past Glory Days like many of his European neighbors; finding himself both loving and hating his apparent immortality.
Who hasn’t thought of what it would be like to be truly human among their kind?
Extra:
Character Abilities:
Death does not come easy to Monsieur Bonnefoy, the stubborn old goat. As a personified nation, he, like others of his kind, do not parish. Not permanently at least. In the past Francis has died, but as the attack was superficial (ie: His people and land were not wiped out of existence, thus he continues to exist) and his body repaired itself. He is virtually immortal and has aged very slowly.
He is stronger than he looks though he does not impose his strength on others. As said in regards to personality, he is calmer than he used to be.
Possessions:
Those things on his person when being snatched:
+ Current outfit
+ Reading glasses
+ A slim lighter, phone (useless), and a smutty novel he was reading at the time
Anything else: N/A
Samples:
Action/Communication thread/post sample:
- http://memebells.livejournal.com/28254.html?thread=48711006#t48711006
Log/Prose sample:
A self-confident smirk lit up the features on the Frenchman’s face as he peered into the room at the sleeping figure whose legs were thrown over the couch’s arms carelessly. So innocent. So…unsuspecting. With that in mind, Francis made his way quietly into the room, eyes trained on the unmoving figure. He stood quietly before the prone man, smiling when he saw those comically thick eyebrows furrow in his sleep.
Lovely...
After a moment or two spent troubled in thought, Francis turned his back on the slumbering man before promptly sitting down. The Brit let out a pained sound – half gurgle, half irate sailor – as the Parisian on top of him shifted on his new seat.
“Angleterre. Bonjour” he greeted cheerfully from his perch. Seeing that his seat’s face was turning an unhealthy shade of purple he shifted just slightly before flashing the flustered man a winning smile. “You look well!”
Ignoring the lively tone, it was more grating than anything else, Arthur freed an arm and shoved hard. The Frenchman didn’t go down without a fight, squawking indignantly as he met the floor. He flicked a bit of dark blond hair from his face to give his petulant acquaintance a look.
Arthur gave a huff and grimaced. “And you look like a fool on his arse you oaf.”
Francis smiled as he stood. “Pleasant as always. I would think you would appreciate a wake up call for the meeting. My mistake” he drawled just so, eying the man still seated. A flash of recognition went across his face.
He could only curse lowly under his breath as the flamboyant blond sauntered from the room, humming some God-awful French song, smile apparent even without the visual.
Name: Jackie
Journal:
helikesitroughMethod of Contact: Plurk | MSN: FrancisFPBonnefoy@hotmail.com
Previous characters: None.
Character Information:
Full Name: Francis Bonnefoy { French Republic }
Series: Axis Powers Hetalia
Canon point: Modern-day
Age: Over 1000, though he appears no older than 26.
Species: Nation/Humanoid
Appearance/PB: Oh la la! He’s an Aryan child, blond hair and blue eyed. If it weren’t for his broad shoulders and facial hair he’d probably be confused for a woman
Appearance upon arrival: Average day-to-day wear like in the reference picture, no flower included.
History:
Previous RP memories: Not that’s applicable, nope.
Bringing someone along?: ONLY HIS SEXY SELF.
Character History:
- France: Hetalia Wiki
- Wikipedia: History of France
Personality:
There are surprising facets to Francis that get overlooked thanks to the nature of the Nations. He is so much more than a promiscuous playboy looking for the next cheap thrill.
Due to his reputation he has a difficult time being taken seriously. Jabs against him are easily thrown which leaves him frustrated and understandably needy for attention and positive attention at that. He harbors a need for reassurance that goes unspoken due to his pride. He has a series of accomplishments and hardships up to his ears, all of which he believes he has gracefully triumphed over. He does not have the military might other younger nations brag about but he has longevity and has gone through things he honestly does not believe his juniors possible of. His strength is quiet and he shows a great deal of patience overall.
He has no patience for certain people calling him a ‘cheese eating surrender monkey’ which goes against Francis’ penchant for enjoying a nice verbal spat. He’s used to the insults and has a strange way of letting them appear to roll off his back. An unyielding cheer, if you will. Like the insults, he is good at diverting his own personal responsibilities in the mistakes he makes.
Francis does not boast perfection, though he surrounds himself with high-class things. He knows what he wants, who he wants, and the means to get it. This leads him to be labeled as superficial and gaudy. Quite the contrary; he is happiest in the countryside with fresh air and a relaxed atmosphere though company is always necessary. An old man like him can get lost in his thoughts if left in solitude for too long.
Generally Francis is a kind man. He’s especially generous when his way is being had. He likes to think of himself as an older brother, a mentor of sorts, to his neighbors due to his age (but for the love of God, don’t call him old. It’s a double-edged sword with him). He has a strange sense of paternal affection for some and amorous flirtation with others. Francis isn’t the kind of man that will let stipulations get in the way of him expressing his emotions toward his extensive ‘family’.
Francis thinks that there are many boast-worthy aspects to his glorious person—others stubbornly deny these good qualities.
Frankly speaking, he is overconfident, smug, and very forward. Many think of him as self-absorbed though he’s not. Well, not completely. Francis is charming and enjoys making other people happy—and sometimes their happiness may reflect on his capabilities which only help out that inflated ego of his. No matter how irritating he can be with his laissez-faire attitude, people find themselves wanting to be around him. If you can get past the groping you’ll have a good friend. Dramatic, but good. If you can’t get past the groping, well… He’ll keep trying until you do, and enjoy the process of desensitizing.
At the end of the day, Francis is coping with being a very old man in the only ways he knows how to. He is his worst critic, can be deeply self-deprecating, and understands the power of a good lament. People come to him, and in a way love him, but he is not the Empire he used to be. He deals with the memories of past Glory Days like many of his European neighbors; finding himself both loving and hating his apparent immortality.
Who hasn’t thought of what it would be like to be truly human among their kind?
Extra:
Character Abilities:
Death does not come easy to Monsieur Bonnefoy, the stubborn old goat. As a personified nation, he, like others of his kind, do not parish. Not permanently at least. In the past Francis has died, but as the attack was superficial (ie: His people and land were not wiped out of existence, thus he continues to exist) and his body repaired itself. He is virtually immortal and has aged very slowly.
He is stronger than he looks though he does not impose his strength on others. As said in regards to personality, he is calmer than he used to be.
Possessions:
Those things on his person when being snatched:
+ Current outfit
+ Reading glasses
+ A slim lighter, phone (useless), and a smutty novel he was reading at the time
Anything else: N/A
Samples:
Action/Communication thread/post sample:
- http://memebells.livejournal.com/28254.html?thread=48711006#t48711006
Log/Prose sample:
A self-confident smirk lit up the features on the Frenchman’s face as he peered into the room at the sleeping figure whose legs were thrown over the couch’s arms carelessly. So innocent. So…unsuspecting. With that in mind, Francis made his way quietly into the room, eyes trained on the unmoving figure. He stood quietly before the prone man, smiling when he saw those comically thick eyebrows furrow in his sleep.
Lovely...
After a moment or two spent troubled in thought, Francis turned his back on the slumbering man before promptly sitting down. The Brit let out a pained sound – half gurgle, half irate sailor – as the Parisian on top of him shifted on his new seat.
“Angleterre. Bonjour” he greeted cheerfully from his perch. Seeing that his seat’s face was turning an unhealthy shade of purple he shifted just slightly before flashing the flustered man a winning smile. “You look well!”
Ignoring the lively tone, it was more grating than anything else, Arthur freed an arm and shoved hard. The Frenchman didn’t go down without a fight, squawking indignantly as he met the floor. He flicked a bit of dark blond hair from his face to give his petulant acquaintance a look.
Arthur gave a huff and grimaced. “And you look like a fool on his arse you oaf.”
Francis smiled as he stood. “Pleasant as always. I would think you would appreciate a wake up call for the meeting. My mistake” he drawled just so, eying the man still seated. A flash of recognition went across his face.
He could only curse lowly under his breath as the flamboyant blond sauntered from the room, humming some God-awful French song, smile apparent even without the visual.
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