Marquis Francois Valois, de Bordeaux

Real men | Giles & Frankie | Week 28

Wed, 04 Jul 2012 13:01:57 -0400

Giles flushed at Francois’ playful taunts and shrugged off the sword, chuckling. He didn’t think Francois could ever hurt him, physically or emotionally. He trusted the man with his life, even if he hadn’t seen him for years. Oddly enough, Francois still looked the same all those years ago, perhaps slightly more eccentric but Giles never did mind the man’s antics. He thought them funny and delightful as a child. He doesn’t doubt that he still would today as an adult.

Giles smirked and nodded, stepping back and unsheathing his sword as he got into the stance that was sufficient enough. “Straight to business, Francois. Of course.”

Chuckling, Giles waited for Francois to strike, wanting to give the man a fair chance. They always use to play with wooden swords -Giles’ mother didn’t think he was old enough to use a real sword until he was fifteen- but now it was the real thing, and Giles felt that much closer to Francois. No matter how the spar went, Giles knew that he’ll always have much to learn from Francois and whether it was about being a knight or not, Giles always enjoyed hearing the man’s tales.

Francois stepped forwards, to the side and around the man, his feet crossing over, nimble as if he’d been dancing all his life. As the metal swiped through the air he laughed, clanging it against the other man’s sword, over and over against the sound of swordplay rang through the courtyard and he was smiling, there was probably a glint or two of fang here and there as he laughed, but Giles seemed not to notice.

He just could not help but notice how much the boy had grown, and yet stayed the same, still the sweet, trusting boy he had always been and, for a small moment, he felt guilty for not being completely honest with him, but how could he? He was a man of God, a child of God, and Francois was not. An abomination and a monster, as many had called him.

‘You ‘ave to keep up, little man!’

He chimed, dancing around him, smacking his armour with the flat side of the sword. IT was easy to say that, from his years of practise, Frankie was quite good with a sword, better than most and would soon be the best of them all he did, after all, have all the time in the world,

‘Or are you weighed down by all that silly armour?’

nairnes: You’ve assumed correctly, My Lord. Though I do not like being referred to as ‘The Dame’....

Thu, 28 Jun 2012 22:05:45 -0400

nairnes:

You’ve assumed correctly, My Lord. Though I do not like being referred to as ‘The Dame’. It makes me sound terribly old. ‘Nairne’ will do just fine. May I see your fangs?

I could show you in another way, mon petit, but I doubt you’d be very ‘appy with that, Nairne.

nairnes: Ah, you must be the Marquis. I heard you were a…charming man. However, I suppose not all...

Thu, 28 Jun 2012 21:57:41 -0400

nairnes:

Ah, you must be the Marquis. I heard you were a…charming man. However, I suppose not all rumors are true, are they? I’m more inclined to believe the rumors of your red liquiddiet.

Per’aps, my lady, you should be more inclined to believe what you ‘ear as, well, both of those rumours are very true. But yes, I am the Marquis, and you are the darling Dame of the village, I assume?

A dame, a dame, a dame. Come out, come out wherever you are.

Thu, 28 Jun 2012 21:41:49 -0400

A dame, a dame, a dame. Come out, come out wherever you are.

helenaofvalleybroad: I’ve not had the opportunity, I’m afraid. Though, it does seem much more in...

Thu, 28 Jun 2012 14:59:06 -0400

helenaofvalleybroad:

I’ve not had the opportunity, I’m afraid. Though, it does seem much more in comparison, even in only your few words. Why are you here then, Marquis Volois? If I came from a beautiful place such as Bordeaux, I should never want to leave.

Because, as I am sure you are aware, when you live in a place it loses it’s novelty, and you are forced to look for other places in order to fulfil the curiosity that fills each of us to different levels. I, for one, am full of it, I traveled for four years through the entirety of France, England and Scotland before settling and, I must say, England is nice, as is Paris, there are nice places all over the world, I am sure.

I will be making the trip to other places, too, but I’ve all the time in the world. You should, definitely, visit before you grow too old, or attached to this place.

helenaofvalleybroad: francois-valois replied to your post: Aren’t you a pretty, little thing....

Thu, 28 Jun 2012 14:23:11 -0400

helenaofvalleybroad:

francois-valois replied to your post: Aren’t you a pretty, little thing. Fairer than your mother, if I may be so bold as to say.

Marquis Francois Valois, de Bordeaux, a pleasure to make your acquaintance, little miss.

The pleasure is endowed upon me as well, My Lord Marquis. Though, if you do not mind my asking, what is it like in France? I have never been, you see, though it has often been a destination my heart has longed to visit- in the future, of course.

It’s nice, very green and warm, not as dull as it is here. Why ‘ave you not visited yet? I would ‘ighly suggest it.

Real men | Giles & Frankie | Week 28

Thu, 28 Jun 2012 12:31:52 -0400

sir-giles:

Giles quickly traveled to his chambers, dressing down in light armor before racing down to the courtyard, not wanting to wait another minuted. Truth was, he was only sparring with Francois, a man he looked up to as a child, and if he did beat Giles, well, Giles wouldn’t be all that perturbed. After Francois left Humber for what may of been the last time, Giles was worried and his ten year old self missed him greatly, always waiting for the day that Francois would travel back to Humber. To say there was no hidden resentment would’ve been a lie. The man never wrote and because Giles knew he was traveling a great deal, he never wrote either. But now Giles planned to make up for the lost time with Francois.
“Francois!” Giles called out when he emerged from the gate with a grin full of mirth, Francois’ back to him.

Fighting could be put on hold; Giles wanted to spend a quick moment with the man who, as a child, he would leave his friends to go play with. It was just the two of them in the courtyard and Giles was thankful for that. He wanted no interruptions. ”It’s so good to see you after all these years, my friend,” he said, walking up to the other, his sword sheathed at his side.

Francois turned on his heel to eye the boy as he crossed the ground towards him—truth be told he was far more a man than a boy, in terms of age, but to Frankie he was still that small, awkward ten-year-old, the boy who’d clung close to him whenever he’d taken him out of the house, taken him into the markets and town after having begged his mother to let him go. That grin came over his face again, filled with fond memories and a mischief at the coming spar.

He raised his sword as the man approached, clinking it lightly on the armour,

‘Armour? Are you that scared I’ll ‘urt you?’

The vampire smirked but he nodded, shrugging his shoulders,

‘It ‘as been a long time, and I ‘ave missed you greatly but now..’

He tapped the sword against the light, silver armour again, motioning for him to raise the sword that hung at his side. Frankie knew that there was no chance he’d be beaten, not a chance in heaven, hell or on God’s green earth, but he would at least let them man try, maybe he’d let him win for a little while, or maybe he’d let him win overall, he hadn’t yet decided what he wanted to do. Knock the boy from his high horse and prove there was yet work to be done, or give him some more confidence?

Real men | Giles & Frankie | Week 28

Wed, 27 Jun 2012 17:32:24 -0400

Francois left soon enough, making a small detour to his chambers to pick up the necessary equipment but then he was off again, a light skip in his step as he made his way down towards the courtyard. It had been quite some time since he’d seen Giles, that little boy with shining eyes and hair of spun gold, thighs he’d just wanted to bury his teeth into—that was the problem with children, Frankie found, their skin looked.. just so tasty. He’d had to tear himself away before he’d done something he would have regretted but now, now was different. He was older, but still with those same characteristics—and an ego to match.

‘Come out, come out, w’erever you are, mon petit. Let me show you ‘ow it’s done.’

He chimed, sword in hand, letting it drag over the ground as he plodded through it, spinning in little circles and pacing back and forth, eyes scanning the area around him. It had started to grow dark and the competitors, and almost all of the city it seemed, had retired to the feast, leaving them quite alone.

sir-giles: No, not this year. I seem to have arrived late and I’d like to work on my training. I’m...

Wed, 27 Jun 2012 17:09:06 -0400

sir-giles:

No, not this year. I seem to have arrived late and I’d like to work on my training. I’m still as easily distracted as I was ten years ago.

In that case, I’ll take you on now. In the courtyard.

sir-giles: Well, we will see, won’t we? I think you’ll be surprised by my level of skill. We...

Wed, 27 Jun 2012 16:57:52 -0400

sir-giles:

Well, we will see, won’t we? I think you’ll be surprised by my level of skill.

We most certainly shall see, mon petit chevalier, we shall see. I would hate to tire you out before any competition but, wait, are you competing this year?

sir-giles: I was worried after you left. Then again, I did think the world as a horribly scary...

Wed, 27 Jun 2012 16:34:35 -0400

sir-giles:

I was worried after you left. Then again, I did think the world as a horribly scary place and I didn’t want any harm to befall you. That doesn’t mean I can’t do it! Do you not think I can? I thought you of all people would believe in me.

I believe in you, Giles, I do, but I still don’t think you could beat me. Not even your god could grant you powers enough to make me yield.

sir-giles: You wouldn’t have as much to tell me if you ever wrote. I suppose that doesn’t matter...

Wed, 27 Jun 2012 16:17:00 -0400

sir-giles:

You wouldn’t have as much to tell me if you ever wrote. I suppose that doesn’t matter now that you’re here and now you’ll know exactly where to find me. Of course I will be. I may be the youngest, but that doesn’t make me one of the weakest or the lousiest, my friend. It won’t be long ‘till I show the others my worth.

When one is traveling the length of France, England and Scotland there’s little time for writing. I apologise. I should ‘ave. You are the youngest, yes, with the least experience, my little Knight, do not get a’ead of yourself.

sir-giles: I would like to see you try! Like you said, I’m not so awkward anymore. Ahem, but thank...

Wed, 27 Jun 2012 16:02:44 -0400

sir-giles:

I would like to see you try! Like you said, I’m not so awkward anymore. Ahem, but thank you. You, ah, look the same. My mother is well. She and father should be moving to London in a few short months. Have you not spoken to them since the last time you were in Humber?

That’s nice. It has been a while since I’ve seen you all, I hope you’ve not missed me too much, I’ve plenty to tell you, to show you, too. But I’m sure I’ll have more than enough chances now that you’re a Knight. You’ll be at court, won’t you? Aren’t you the youngest? Runt of the kingsguard?

sir-giles: That doesn’t mean anything- I was just a boy then. I could easily beat you now if I...

Wed, 27 Jun 2012 15:46:33 -0400

sir-giles:

That doesn’t mean anything- I was just a boy then. I could easily beat you now if I wanted to.

Oh, puh-lease, boy! I would have you on your back in seconds. We shall see, I will come to your training once the Tourney is over. You’ve become really rather handsome, nothing like the long-legged, awkward boy you were. How’s your mother?

Poor Queenie. | Emma & Francois | Week 27

Mon, 25 Jun 2012 15:53:31 -0400

queen-emma-the-auspicious:

The Queen couldn’t help but notice the special smugness of the French man as he entered her chambers, since the day she had met him there had always been a cocky set to his shoulders- as if he knew a secret that could buy him the world. It both frustrated and amused Emma, as she liked to think that she was the only one that should be allowed such cocky liberties, but it was nice to see someone who preened just as much as she, and had their feathers ruffled much easier.
There was a certain way Francois said his words that made her want to straighten her back, look more regal, for everything he said sounded as a joke- and Emma would not be taken as a joke. “Marquis,” She awnsered, shooting a strained smile in his general direction. No matter how much she enjoyed verbal battles of wits, she was not at her best to day- having so much energy leaked into the tournament, and the rest of it going to her growing child.

“My pain is simply the joy of being a woman, one that I am not afraid to admit that I wished men were forced to feel. It is difficult, being born without an organ between your legs, and the ability to grow more inside you.”

Emma noticed absently that the man seemed to be adapting to his surroundings, a trait she admired, though it upset her slightly- as Emma did like watching people squirm.

“I do,” Emma assured him, a coy smile playing at her lips, “and I do not, but I shall make it. Apparently you already know how I cannot refuse wine.”

‘But per’aps it’s not too good to drink too much, you’ll find that little baby kicking and rolling around all night.’

He joked, cracking the bottle of wine open to pour it out for her, a glass for her alone before, uninvited, he took a seat, a grin on his lips—and still it wasn’t a grin so bright that those dangerous, little points would be on show to the world, no, but he looked happy. In fact, there was rarely a time that Francois didn’t look happy, there was always something to smile about in his world, something to be happy about, something to be smug about, something to be amused by, or something to be in love with.

His eyes sparkled as he passed her the wine—if there was one thing he loved more than himself and his own wit it was ruining the plans of others and this came very easily to him, especially with Emma, it seemed. There was conflict in her and he could see that. She wasn’t sure whether to like him, or despise him, like his confidence and arrogance, so much like her own, or condemn him for it—or at least try to.

‘And it is beautiful wine, though I’m afraid I’ve grown sick of it, far too used to the Bordeaux tastes, you know?’

Poor Queenie. | Emma & Francois | Week 27

Sat, 23 Jun 2012 16:21:39 -0400

queen-emma-the-auspicious:

Cacophonous noises clanged throughout the castle as preparations for the upcoming tourney were being made, the sound soothing the pregnant and therefore ornery Queen, as preparing for festivities was common ground for her royal Highness, and searching for witches and wizards- any sign of witch craft truly, was not. The Queen also has much preparing to do, out side of choosing the dishes, the colors, leaching her coffers dry and choosing the knights who would preform form her guard- yes she had much more than that to do, like arrive on time for a royal fitting, as a Queen should look her best as men hack at each other. Perhaps she should wear white to offset the blood… Emma also needed to tend to the fetus growing in her stomach, appease the lords who were eagerly awaiting the presence of the king, send word to her firstborn, choose new staff for the kitchen- and the list goes on. Needless to say the life of a Royal was never boring, especially seeing as there were vikings crawling- no, vikings don’t crawl, they scream and wave their axes an pillage- vikings were pillaging about her domain, and made for quite the entertaining company- however not more so than the thespians who were surly coming up with an act to display in the streets while people crowded about to see sweaty men bleed. Everyone was busy, and yet at the end of the hard worked day there would still be things to do.

As the noises rattled on, Emma found herself forming a headache, much to her great annoyance. One of the few great liberties of being a pregnant queen was the ability to call a five hour lunch-break with out any back sass. “I am retiring to my chambers.” She said simply, walking away from the dumbfounded grounds planner without so much as a glance over her shoulder. Individuals parted like the red sea as she stalked to her personal study. Inside the world was quite, despite the maids bustling about- they lighted the fire, wordlessly brought her her wine, soundlessly pulled her paper, ink and cushions form nooks and crannies unseen by an untrained eye. When they finished they fell back into the shadows, leaving Emma happy and very much alone. Until of course loud banging and arguing could be heard from outside her chambers. “Oh just let them in,” Emma snapped at her interior guard, rubbing her temples, she was getting too old for silly interruptions.

It was those very simple words that he needed, for the guard inside to open the door and pass them along, the smugness on his face was more than apparent and he made a face at that outside guard, spitting something that sounded rather harsh and mocking at him in his mother tongue, paired with a hand gesture and the sweeping of his fingers on his shoulders, brushing off the guard without a backwards glance. He knew this room, he liked this room, it had all the grandeur and lavishness that he was used to, the rich, deep colours and this time the curtains were not pulled as wide open as they had been before—while he was able to lounge and relax in the sun, and quite enjoyed it, there was always a little tingle on his skin, a little sting behind his eyelids—and it gave a much nicer feel to the room.

‘Your Grace.’

He said simply, bowing his head and shoulders—though only slightly—a soft smile on his face as he turned his head, just to make sure the doors were closed behind them. He’d been out, wandering the grounds, watching the preparations for the Tourney, and he was so very looking forward to that, how could he not be? The scent of blood would fill the arena, ah, yes, he was excited, though there was just one problem with the entire set –up; some of the competitors, well, he actually liked them, and to see them hurt, despite that gorgeous, red liquid that would spill from their wounds, would be a shame.

‘Are you not feeling very well?’

Francois had been in the country for some times, so much so that his accent had faded a little bit, no longer was it the pure, raw French that he had first arrived with, but now just certain letters were emphasised, his R’s a little slurred over, his W’s airier than the English, and H’s well, he didn’t use them.

‘You must ‘ave many, many things to do, but do you ‘ave time for some socialising? I’ve been sent some new wine, from another area of France.’

The Three Broomsticks isn't all that genius.

Fri, 22 Jun 2012 14:10:26 -0400

badassestgoblinslayer:

Oh no, I only go to the experts. The lot who treat the dragons that get injured in the sewer races? Lot of money goes to making sure the right dragon is fit, if you know what I mean. Not a betting man myself, but London has a market for anything you could fancy.
Yeah the dragon doctors are a greasy lot, and I wouldn’t trust them with a basic hair care potion but they do nice ointments.

Why, yes, you are right, they are a bunch of greasy-haired imbeciles. They know nothing about, I find that Idelle is fantastic at making things for the hair.

The Three Broomsticks isn't all that genius.

Fri, 22 Jun 2012 13:15:39 -0400

badassestgoblinslayer:

That makes sense. And here I was thinking you had a bad rash that needed treatment. That’s pretty much the only reason I get to the city these days. That, and they make a nice cup of tea.

Make sure you let me know when you ‘av a rash again and per’aps I can ‘elp you better, or maybe I will just stay away from you.

As for a cup of tea, well, I don’ know about that. I do not like tea.

The Three Broomsticks isn't all that genius.

Fri, 22 Jun 2012 12:56:00 -0400

badassestgoblinslayer:

What? Aren’t there plenty of children running in the streets for you to have a snack like the rest of us? ~sighs~ Those buggers are fast, aren’t they?

Non, I don’ usually go for children, they’re too breakable, boring, really. I prefer the fight of a man, plus,p eople tend to notice when children go missing in this village, why else do you think I go to London so often? Tsk.

The Three Broomsticks isn't all that genius.

Fri, 22 Jun 2012 12:46:09 -0400

badassestgoblinslayer:

I mean, they’ve never got my drink. How hard is it to find a spiced apple wine?

They never get mine, either, you know.

It’s a horrible pain.