1st declaration; [action]

[guillotines]

(ACTION for 949 Beulah Street)

[France's eyes snap open. Had he died? Was this some sort of curse? He knows what it is to dream and often, when he could sleep as of late, his dreams were never this... quiet. Peaceful.

Foreign.

He runs a hand through his hair, then pulls his knees up; but he's far too restless, so he practically stumbles out of bed and searches for the nearest available set of clothes he can find.]

(A) [He's either in his house or wandering the yard fiddling with things, generally looking bewildered.]

(B) [In this case, he may or may not be flagging you down looking extremely flustered. This Frenchman's speech is a little archaic (depending on your time period and/or setting) and occasional insistent phrases poke through untranslated--"Where am I?" "Pardon, madame/monsieur/mademoiselle..."]

Comments

B

[lamingtons]

S'csusez-moi! [Laughs.] G'day, Frankie!

[guillotines]

[. . . What is that accent.]

--Eh? Have we met? My name is not... Frankie. [He raises his eyebrows, but he doesn't seem all that offended. Just confused.]

[lamingtons]

[This accent is what happens when the Irish are left in the desert to die.]

Yeah, yeah. [Sighs. Oh, Mayfield, making his EuroMates forget him.] What year is it?

[guillotines]

[He KNEW England was pure evil.]

Why would you ask that? 1794, of course! [He folds his arms skeptically. 8/ ]

[lamingtons]

Oh! Oh! You knew me back then! You knew me!

[Or well he looked at his coast, possibly helped pass smallpox onto the locals (the English will blame the French for anything if they have the chance) and fled. Like every other European.]

It's me! New Holland!

[guillotines]

[INSTANT RECOGNITION. But he does take a few steps back whilst rubbing his chin.]

... This explains the accent and those unfortunately familiar brows.

A.

[filledechance]

[She'd been in the kitchen, grabbing something to drink when she'd noticed the distinctly more ...cumbersome decent of a person down the stairs. The drones had a very --- quiet way of wandering. This was different. It had been enough to turn her attention, watching from the doorway to the living room as a very familiar body ambled downwards. Of course, the shock had her gaping--

Her hideous plastic cup made a rather pathetic sound when it met its untimely end tumbling to the floor. At least it wasn't spilled milk.]

France?! What... How?

[She's usually so much more poised.]

[guillotines]

[The familiar voice has him stopping in his tracks; flinching, even, the response is a jerking turn toward the speaker. The tension in his movements hardly lessens when he recognizes her. These clothes are strange and he feels... bare. Uncomfortable.

Cut off.]

... I don't know.

[France is speechless and he feels rooted to the spot.]

[filledechance]

[That's...different. He's usually so much more enthusiastic to see his petite soeur-- Maybe the frown crossing her features is telling enough of her confusion? Pale brows furrowed in thought]

Why do you look as if I am going to strike you? That's silly!

[Trying to smile... but. His paranoid behavior has her treading lightly.]

[koyo]

( As expected, one people began to arrive in Mayfield, Spain finds a set of cards sent to him from the town. The town wants him to greet these people. The last few days, he's been rather out of it but today, when he finds a card with a certain name on it, he goes to see them.

"Francis Bonnefoy
949 Beulah Street"

When he arrives at the address, he tries to not look out of breath when he sees a familiar figure, )

Francia?

B

[mounties]

[There is a girl with a moose and a polar bear, taking them out for a walk. This is perfectly normal. She seems to light up when she sees France, though, detouring over to him.]

Pas-Maman! You're back.

B

[best_weapon_ever]

[She pauses and gives him what she hopes is a comforting smile.]

You're in Mayfield, and we're all sort of trapped here.

B;

[encored]

[wow, it's been a while since he's heard anyone speak a language he's more comfortable with than English. he usually tries to avoid the newcomers when he can, but maybe it wouldn't hurt just this once...

he replies in perfect, albeit accented, French.]

Ah. You're new to the city, are you not?

[kinship]

[He hadn't expected to be hailed in another language, he had thought Mayfield broke down those barriers and made them all speak American-English. Giving the older man a polite smile, he replied in slightly accented French.]

Please don't panic, you're new here, aren't you?