Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Jun 22, 2012 21:50:22 GMT -5
Francis Bonnefoy
FULL NAME HERE Francis Bonnefoy
NICKNAMES Frannie, Francis, some people call him Storyteller
GENDER Male
AGE 18
GRADE 12; Senior
ETHNICITY French
SPECIALTY Lies; intelligence gathering.
Francis Bonnefoy lies like a rug, there’s no way around it. He positively loves convincing people that whatever he’s spouting is the truth, and he’s gifted. Due to his practically-metro appearance, many people consider him demure and harmless, but he has a mind like a steel trap and a tongue five times as sharp as a steel blade. He’ll pull whatever information he wants from you, then leave you thinking he’ll guard your secret with his very life. He keeps his stories straight, easily, and never fails to remember little details, namely the story he uses to cover his lying abilities: that he’s an observer, and makes a good team-player since he can preserve nearly everything he sees or hears almost perfectly in his brain.
YOUR CHARACTER'S LIKES
-Stories: Francis was always read to as a child, and since his childhood he has always sought to store more enthralling tales within the confines of his skull; his adoration for stories and fables has also lead him to have a rather stunning imagination, which contributes to his lying abilities.
-Wine: French wine, to be specific. He can’t get enough of the stuff, but he always makes sure to keep himself in check when he drinks, so as not to accidentally speak the truth to anyone.
-Sex: He loves loving other people, and is rather good at it if anyone were to ask any of his various bedmates.
-History: History positively rivets Francis, he loves thinking about how people got to be the way they are today, how people crafted the world they live in, and especially which legendary tales of history are indeed... lies.
-Beauty: He finds beauty in any form inspirational, whether it’s a beautiful woman, man, a sunset, or simply a well-written book, it makes his brain work to understand what makes beauty so attractive, and what exactly constitutes as beauty.
-Fencing: He finds it elegant, and sees it as something France was never given enough credit for creating. He has tried to fence, and was good enough to make it into a few tournaments when he was younger; he still follows it avidly, and makes it a point to see Olympic and international-level tournaments on television.
-Language: He’s fascinated by how human beings communicate, and positively loves thinking over how accents work... which causes him to speak an awful lot to hear how native, Parisian French has affected his mouth and accents his English.
-God: Francis, being raised French, is a firm Catholic, though his sexual ideals would make the Pope cry. He believes that there is, truly a God who watches over everyone. He’s been to church, read some of the scriptures he was supposed to read; though he doesn’t really follow God’s rules he hopes that God will be kind to him when he dies.
YOUR CHARACTER'S DISLIKES
-Celts: Francis harbors deep hatred for all things English, Welsh, and Irish, though he sees Scottish things as positively wonderful thanks to Scotland’s military connection to France in the Auld Alliance. As for the other Celts... well, he thinks he despises the Welsh and the Irish, though he’s merely confused and believes that everything Celtic aside from Scottish things are English.
-Jokes about French people or their army: He positively can’t stand to have his homeland verbally assaulted, it drives him up a wall and causes him to lash out verbally or physically, though he couldn’t fight physically to save his life.
-Being Truthful: He views the truth as something that’s merely judged and accepted by a majority of people, and positively hates it when people see the truth as fact rather than greatly-agreed on statements.
-Other liars: He can’t stand being around others who know the tricks of his trade and can see through them, he feels intimidated and nervous that they’ll expose him, no matter how many times he’s trumped them in their little game of who-figures-who-out-first.
-Physical fights: He’s extremely vain, and can’t hold his own in a physical fight, no matter how hard he tries to teach himself to fight or train in the gym to strengthen his body, he always ends up on the floor with a bloodied face and ruined clothes.
-Brutes who lack sharp minds: People he can’t play with aren’t worth his time, plain and simple. Francis is a man of false words and mind-games, but people who are built like tanks without brains like generals inside them bore him.
FEARS
-Getting caught: the simple idea of someone figuring out that he hasn’t been truthful causes his hands to shake, and his head to pound with adrenaline. In the event of somebody actually catching him, which has happened only a handful of times in his life, he has a tendency to break down, cry, and withdraw from society for a few days for fear of more people looking at him oddly or spreading lies; he believes that if he stays away from people long enough they’ll forget what they heard of him.
-Telling the truth: He’s been lying since childhood, and the idea of the truth does actually scare him, he doesn’t know how to function when he’s surrounded by facts he doesn’t control. Pathological lying has left its mark on his mind.
-Bullies: As mentioned above, Francis has a mind like a steel trap, nothing escapes it; he has had this ability since childhood, and this caused him to be a rather extreme nerd when he was younger; he was bullied relentlessly and to this day is terrified that somebody will shake him down in an alleyway for information or money.
-People cutting his hair: When he was younger, his mother forced him to cut his hair because she deemed it inappropriate for a young man to have long hair; he was 12 then, his hair had been cut short, barely brushing past his ears--he feels vulnerable when his hair is short, and hence, keeps it at shoulder length now.
QUIRKS/ODDITIES
-Books: it is simply impossible to find Francis without a book unless he’s having sex, a shower, or trying to sleep. His addiction to stories follows him everywhere and allows him almost no rest.
-Vanity to put Narcissus to shame: Francis simply lacks shame, he loves himself, well, his appearance, just as much, if not more, as he loves others, and considers himself almost perfect--perfection, as he sees it, is the ability to live in one’s own world, as created by oneself. Francis comes very close to living in his own world with his books and ideals of beauty, but the fact that people surround him gets in the way of those pursuits.
-Tattoo: Francis has a small tattoo on the back of his neck of a royal blue Fleur De Lis, along with “Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité” written in elegant script beneath the symbol. He got the tattoo when he was sixteen, and had somehow managed to convince the tattoo artist that he was old enough to legally be “ink’d”. However, his skin didn’t react well to the metals in the ink, and the area under the tattoo rose from his untraumatized skin; it itches from time to time, and when he’s stressed it begins to hurt, causing him to reach up and rub at it. Since the skin surrounding it is irritated for most of the time, he covers it with his hair--not because he is ashamed of it, but rather that he deems it unattractive due to its redness and soreness.
-Sword: No, not that one you perverts. Francis carries a short sword to protect himself with in the event of somebody attacking him, he isn’t nearly as skilled with swordfighting as he is with lying, but lies are more likely to draw attackers than drive them away. Along with the sword, he carries small knives that he borrows from one of his closest friends, Fritzi Beilschmidt; these allow him to [try] to take down an attacker from mid-range distance, so he won’t have to get too close to them.
OVERALL PERSONALITY Francis truly does care about the people around him, and he tries to avoid fights, as they often cause him uneeded stress. He feels that all people should just be kind and love each other, but understands that many people do not understand his thought process or find it inefficient. He has difficulty sticking to his own ideals from time to time, though, and can’t help but despise a few people. His lying addiction does have a bit of an impact on his relationships with people, but seeing as he has practically recreated himself in the lies he speaks, he doesn’t need to work hard at all to differentiate his actual thoughts from the lies he speaks and the relationships he has.
His lies do have purpose, and it stems from the traumatic loss of his father when he was still a young child. His father had been on a business trip to Berlin, and was beaten to death by a group of Germans who still believed that France was under German rule. WHen Francis was told this story, he was seven years old; and that scarred his mind into despising Germans to no end, as well as the truth. He believes that the truth steals hope from people, and that lies are a terrific way to live in a fantasy world.
Being religious, Francis believes he shares a relationship with God. He sees God as the single piece of truth that offers hope; a merciful lord who will separate the bad from the good in the end and reward those who have done their duty; though he knows that when his own time comes, he will not be one of the people rewarded. He respects religion very highly, and does his best not to anger anyone with his views; though he doesn’t adhere to many of the behaviours asked of him by scripture. He sees religion as a beautiful story, and as mentioned before, Francis loves stories.
Apart from religion and fiction, Francis adores history because it forces him to think about how the human brain works and processes things, and learning about history has brought him to truly love his home country of France. He will argue with anyone who dares to insult his homeland, even if he finds that person unworthy of his time or words, France is worth defending to him... even if it warrants a beating from a brute.
Deep, deep down, Francis honestly hates himself because he has very little to no hope... well, when it comes to the truth. He lives in his world of lies as a source of comfort and a reach for perfection; the loss of his father early on crushed him, and his mindset at the time caused his dreams to crumble, thus essentially bleeding him dry of honest hope. He has filled the void in his heart left from that experience with false hope towards practically anything he deems worthy.
In the event of somebody trying to pry at him over sensitive topics, namely his religion or sensitivity towards his home nation, he will usually back down unless France has been insulted in some way. He lets personal insults toward himself roll off his back, but refuses to stand by while his home is verbally abused. However, he doesn’t disappear when he backs down; he simply puts his mind to use and saves the memory of the other person’s cruelty for a later time when he can ruin them.
“Francis...” The blonde woman spoke softly, shaking her young son’s shoulder gently, trying to wake him from sleep.
His tired eyes fluttered open at the sound of his mother’s voice; reaching up with his small hands to rub at his face, hot from being stationary against his pillow before he spoke; “O-oui, Mama?” He yawned, curious as to why he would be woken at such a time as this when he was to attend school the very next morning.
His mother’s face was red and swollen with tears while she left her hand on Francis’ shoulder, subconsciously tightening her grip on it. “Y-Your father... ‘e is dead, in Germany...” She whispered shakily, worrying for how Francis would take it, as he was extremely close with his father.
He froze at that, his blue eyes widening in shock before he sputtered out a single word, “W-what?”
“Your father is dead...” She repeated.
He absorbed the words silently, caught entirely off-guard with her abrupt news of his father’s death. He blinked at her momentarily before he bit into his lip harshly, hate beginning to twist in his chest at the fact that his mother had stolen the idea of his father’s smiling face from him. He wondered briefly why she hadn’t just let him sleep, allowed him to be happy, free, not restricted by crushing saddness over his father’s death.
“Why did you tell me this, Mama?” He asked quietly, trying to keep the tears in his eyes at bay.
“Because you ‘ave a right to know, ‘e was your father...” She said softly, mild confusion colouring her face before she spoke again, “Juste go back to sleep, Francis; we can talk about zis later...”
“B-but Mama, tell me mor-” He was cut off in the middle of his blurted statement.
“In ze morning.” She said, putting a finger over his small mouth and pressing him back against his back gently.
“All right, mama...” He trailed off, a sweet taste weighing on his tongue with that statement. It was his first lie.
His tired eyes fluttered open at the sound of his mother’s voice; reaching up with his small hands to rub at his face, hot from being stationary against his pillow before he spoke; “O-oui, Mama?” He yawned, curious as to why he would be woken at such a time as this when he was to attend school the very next morning.
His mother’s face was red and swollen with tears while she left her hand on Francis’ shoulder, subconsciously tightening her grip on it. “Y-Your father... ‘e is dead, in Germany...” She whispered shakily, worrying for how Francis would take it, as he was extremely close with his father.
He froze at that, his blue eyes widening in shock before he sputtered out a single word, “W-what?”
“Your father is dead...” She repeated.
He absorbed the words silently, caught entirely off-guard with her abrupt news of his father’s death. He blinked at her momentarily before he bit into his lip harshly, hate beginning to twist in his chest at the fact that his mother had stolen the idea of his father’s smiling face from him. He wondered briefly why she hadn’t just let him sleep, allowed him to be happy, free, not restricted by crushing saddness over his father’s death.
“Why did you tell me this, Mama?” He asked quietly, trying to keep the tears in his eyes at bay.
“Because you ‘ave a right to know, ‘e was your father...” She said softly, mild confusion colouring her face before she spoke again, “Juste go back to sleep, Francis; we can talk about zis later...”
“B-but Mama, tell me mor-” He was cut off in the middle of his blurted statement.
“In ze morning.” She said, putting a finger over his small mouth and pressing him back against his back gently.
“All right, mama...” He trailed off, a sweet taste weighing on his tongue with that statement. It was his first lie.
YOUR NAME OR ALIASCall me Birdie please.
WHERE CAN WE CONTACT YOU?Jesuistonfrancis on chatango; freyjafemnorge on chatango.
WHERE DID YOU FIND US?Queenie showed it to me personally a while ago.
