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 Posted: Thu Jul 15, 2010 1:10 am
Roleplay name:
Inspiration
Characters:
Francis Bonnefoy (France) & Arthur Kirkland (England)
Time:
Alternative Universe, Modern Day
Brief Summary:
"You can't run from destiny."
Sounds like a line from some cheesy, trashy romance novel, no? Well, that is sometime the infamous and anonymous author, Scarlett Wright, includes in most of 'her' books. No matter how ridiculous they may sound, there are people out there who read them, and hope to find something as extraordinary as the love stories written in Scarlett's works.
Summer of London, England. A struggling writer with an embarrassing secret, and a successful painter who is less that subtle about interests, meet at a cafe.
What happens then on would be a tale only a romance novel would hold. Read along?
Open // Construction // Closed
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Posted: Thu Jul 15, 2010 4:45 pm
 Ｔｈｅ ❤ Ｐ Ａ Ｉ Ｎ Ｔ Ｅ Ｒ Francis Bonnefoy is 26 years old and was born in Lyon, France. Francis’ father died when he was very young due to alcohol abuse, leaving his mother with a large debt and a six month old baby to raise on her own. Due to his father’s debt, his mother spent most of her time working and Francis was forced to become very independent at a young age. His mother had always wanted a girl, however, and so when she was home she treated Francis as such. He grew up dressing very feminine and playing with very "girlie things." For most of his elementary school life, it continued on like this and the other children would tease and bully him over it; the fact that he also naturally looked very feminine did not help much. It remained like this until grade six when his mother got a job offer from a very well-known restaurant in Paris and they ended up moving there that summer.
In Paris, Francis took up painting as a pastime and met a few good friends who allowed him to express himself in ways his mother never had before. His passion for the arts only grew as time went by as he learned to appreciate the beauty around him. Francis also spent a large part of his time after school helping his mother in the restaurant. By high school, Francis had fully come into his masculinity and had become quite the prankster, regularly getting into trouble with teachers, though not for long as he was able to get out of it rather easily with some quick thinking and charm. It was also during this time that he came to realize and accept his bisexuality, and obtained a reputation for being a heartbreaker.
Though he tended to be very laid back and playful on the outside, Francis was actually very studious when left to his own devices and did very well in school, going on to university to study the fine arts and business. During this time, he traveled and studied abroad meeting many interesting and new characters who he still calls friends today.
Today Francis is the owner of a number of art galleries in France and other parts of the world as well as a painter himself; though he does enjoy cooking as a pastime, as taught by his mother. He has his own home in Paris, however; he also has homes in other countries as a result of his many impulsive trips in search of culture and inspiration. ❤ Ｙｏｕ`ｒｅ Ｔｈｅ ↪ Ｉ Ｎ Ｓ Ｐ Ｉ Ｒ Ａ Ｔ Ｉ Ｏ Ｎ
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Posted: Thu Jul 15, 2010 5:58 pm
 Ｔｈｅ ❤ Ｗ Ｒ Ｉ Ｔ Ｅ Ｒ Arthur Kirkland was born in London, England to an unhealthy household. Being the oldest out of 4 siblings, he was forced to grow up at a very young age, seeing as his parents were off abusing every harming substance known to man. Arthur never complained, he cared for his brothers, and loved to tell them stories he made up. but was outraged when Child Services came and took them out of that house. Arthur knew it was for the best, but the thought of being separated from the only family he really had was heartbreaking. Around that time, Arthur's life took a turn for the worst. He took the life of a punk, dressing in black and taking on the strangest apparel, at some point, he also did drugs, and many other illegal things. He was a loud and angry teenager, he often had different foster parents every few weeks - months, if they took pity.
In high school, he met his only friend, Helena Page. She was the one that kick Arthur back onto the right road. She allowed him to realize the dream he had as a child of being an author. Arthur began to harbor feelings for 'Lena', which were never spoken aloud, or returned. She knew many of his secrets, which included his secret love for romance stories.
After high school, Arthur left for a University in France. He became an author of fantasy, and secretly writes romance novels under the pen name, "Scarlett Wright". When he came back, he was full and ready to proclaim his love for his 'best friend'. . Only to find out that she was engaged. Since then, Arthur vowed never to fall in love. He is a hopeless romantic, his fantasies of love are shown in the many novels of 'Scarlett Wright'. Lena became his editor, for both fantasy, and romance. She is the only person who knows Scarlett Wright's true identity.
Due to the fact that Lena did not return his feelings, Arthur has since then leaned more towards men. . Secretly. He refuses to admit he's gay, even though Lena can completely see right through him. Arthur also finds women less appealing because many of female fans take their fandom to an extreme level. .
Arthur's past isn't something he enjoys talking about, but will let something slip every once in a while to someone he really trusts. Arthur's prime and proper air is just a cover for a very insecure and lonely person. He has a love for any kind of art - writing, painting, anything of the sort. He doesn't like to travel very often, only doing so if on business. He likes to stay in the comfort of his apartment.
❤ Ｙｏｕ`ｒｅ Ｔｈｅ ↪ Ｉ Ｎ Ｓ Ｐ Ｉ Ｒ Ａ Ｔ Ｉ Ｏ Ｎ
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Posted: Sun Jul 18, 2010 11:25 pm
ＹＯＵxＫＮＯＷxＯＵＲxＬＯＶＥxＷＡＳxＭＥＡＮＴxＴＯxＢＥ
ｔｈｅxxxｋｉｎｄxxxｏｆxxxｌｏｖｅxxxｔｈａｔxxxｌａｓｔｓxxxｆｏｒｅｖｅｒ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
Paris, France was as it had always been. Being Europe’s epitome of culture, most anything one could wish to find could be found within the European country, from the newest and greatest fashions, to some of the world’s most beautiful artistic masterpieces, to the finest of culinary dishes. One city alone could offer so much to anyone who might be looking for it. It was in this city, this country of beauty and grandeur that Francis Bonnefoy lived right now, and had lived for the entirety of his twenty six years. As one would expect, the Frenchman reflected the country he lived in, in both his personality and his work. He was a flamboyant young man, confident and filled with the constant energy that seemed to flow through France, but above all, Francis Bonnefoy was an artist. He was a painter, to be more precise: a true lover of the arts and a businessman as well; owner of many art galleries around France. However, even a seasoned artist such as himself could encounter obstacles in their creative spirit. One such obstacle was what many knew only as the infamous art block; in other words, a loss of inspiration.
Now, one would think that living in such a lively and inspiring place all your life would prevent such a horrible occurrence however; it was the very thing that plagued Francis this very day. Actually, it was the very thing that had plagued him for a while now. The truth of the matter was that, although he lived in such a lively and inspiring place all his life, Francis was much too familiar with all the magic and wonder that was France. He needed something different; something new that would bring inspiration flooding back to him. He had to go on an impulsive trip to another country!
Thus, it was on this fine French morning that Francis found himself on a flight to London, England. There was no specific reason he decided to go to the country; he literally just closed his eyes and picked out a destination on a world map. England just happened to be where his finger landed, though he did pick London on his own. It seemed the appropriate place to start on his journey. It did cross his mind for a second as the plane took off that he probably should have left his personal assistant more than just a note saying he was going on an adventure to a far off land; though England wasn’t all that far. He hoped she did not stress too much over the matter.
Gabrielle Dubois had been Francis’ personal assistant ever since a few years ago when he had rescued her from the clutches of poverty in her little rundown apartment and allowed her to live in his home. She was eternally grateful to him and was quite the hard and dedicated worker however; with a boss like Francis Bonnefoy anyone would become murderous to say the least. One could only take the constant flirting, random disappearances, overemotional reactions, and mischievous nature for so long before they resorted to rather painful methods. She did tend to do so on many occasions, and he found it slightly disturbing that he may actually be getting used to the treatment.
Yes, that woman would be the death of him some day, and he thought so in the most literal sense. There was one instance, though he cannot say even today whether said instance was a dream, when he woke up to find her standing at his bedside with a knife held firmly in her raised hand, prepared to strike at his still beating heart. If anything the fact that thunder clashed at that exact moment lighting up the room and making the scene even more terrifying as it would in one of those tasteless American movies proved it had to have been a dream. Oh well; at least they kept each other on their toes. It was always good to look on the more optimistic side of things, rather than the side that said your assistant wanted to brutally murder you in your sleep. Either way, Francis was thankful that he cooked his own meals. He would receive a very long lecture from her upon his return to Paris whenever that may be. It was not something he completely looked forward to, though he found them amusing all the same. But he would think about that when the time came. Now was the time for England.
It was an hour by plane from Paris to London, not very long at all compared to other trips Francis had taken. It took even less time for him to find his hotel; The Baglioni Hotel, in the heart of London. It was nice for a hotel; not the nicest he had ever seen, but it was British, so he understood. His suite was as much to his liking as he could expect and he did have to admit, he loved the view he got from the balcony. If he was to say anything about his new accommodations it was that they were different, and that was exactly what he wanted. Moving out onto the balcony, Francis rested his arms on the railing, overlooking the streets of London and all they had to offer. Perhaps he would find what he was looking for here, though he would never do so if he didn’t make the effort to go out and look. So Francis left The Baglioni Hotel, and set out to find his inspiration.
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ＡＮＤxＩxＷＡＮＴxＹＯＵxＨＥＲＥxＷＩＴＨxＭＥ
ｆｒｏｍxxxｔｏｎｉｇｈｔxxxｕｎｔｉｌxxxｔｈｅxxxｅｎｄxxxｏｆxxxｔｉｍｅ
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Posted: Wed Jul 21, 2010 8:30 pm
❝ ＴＨＥＲＥ`ＬＬ ＮＥＶＥＲ ＢＥ ＡＮＯＴＨＥＲ ＹＯＵ ❞
ｎｏxxxｏｎｅxxxｔｏxxxｓｈａｒｅxxxｔｈｅxxxｗｏｒｌｄxxxｗｅxxxｋｎｅｗ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
Arthur never was the social type. As a child, his days were filled with more than just going to school, doing homework, and of the like. He didn’t live in the best of environments, having parents who barely paid attention to their children (There were 4 of them, himself being the eldest), Arthur was forced to take on the upbringing of his siblings. Arthur didn’t complain, though more out of fear of his situation being found out, than out of pride. Of course, he couldn’t keep this hidden forever. Somewhere around the time he was a confused teenager, Arthur’s family was brought to the attention of Child Services. Not long after, he and his brothers were separated. Arthur knew this was for the best, his brothers would be better off with families who actually cared. . . but he couldn’t help but feel the tiniest of resentment. Towards his parents, towards the people who separated him from the only family he knew – and for a while, Arthur hated the world.
At the time, he was a very wild, angry teenager. He viewed everyone as the enemy, and refused to trust anyone. They were all fools in his eyes, fools who should fall in a hole and simply die. He continued this way. . . Until he met Helena Page. Lena, as Arthur liked to call her, had been the first person to actually talk some sense into Arthur. She wouldn’t take his “I hate the world” crap, and was very determined and stubborn. She was the first friend Arthur ever had, and possibly the only one.
After he graduated high school, Arthur worked and earn his degree to become an author, Lena being his editor. During his studying to reach this goal, he left home with the bitter guilt of never telling Lena that he had feelings for her. During his time away, Arthur practiced several times with a mirror as to how he would confess. He needed to show gratitude to the person who let him see the light.
Only to come back home, and find out she was now engaged. Arthur was shocked, but he didn’t try to convince her out of her marriage. Whenever she would come over for tea, and the subject of her marriage was brought up, she looked happy, so full of life. . . And that’s all that Arthur wanted.
Arthur Kirkland had always been a hopeless romantic. As a teenager, he pictured his life as a fairy-tale, that one day, he would be taken from this place and live happily ever after with his. . . Prince Charming?!
No. Arthur refused to admit the one thing that was practically written on his face – but it seems as though Lena was the only person who could actually see it. Arthur was gay. After Lena’s marriage, he lost all interest in woman. . . but he couldn’t say the same for men. Even though he knew it was true, he still refused to admit it. Eternally in denial, perhaps? To subside his love for the romance story he himself couldn’t have, he wrote novels. . . But these were kept secret. At request, he wrote his romance novels under the pen name , “Scarlett Wright”. ‘She’ became a popular romance novelist all throughout Europe – both for her novels, and the fact that she keeps her identity a secret.
Arthur does about his daily life as a novelist, writing fantasy and fiction, while making extra money with this romance novels. He doesn’t mind this lifestyle. . . but remains the same, antisocial hermit crab.
”All I need is a pencil and some paper, personal relationships are useless.” he often told Lena whenever she would get on his case about being a loner. The thought of dying alone scared Arthur. . . but he did nothing to stop this. He tried to convince himself that writing romance novels would suffice, imagine it was him being swept off his feet. . . Though Arthur knew this was not enough.
The day was much livelier than usual, it didn’t seem as though it would rain. Arthur wasn’t sure whether to be grateful, or disappointed. He loved the rain, but he didn’t like feeling soaking wet. Grabbing his keys from the desk, Arthur set out to the coffee shop, some hot tea and maybe a pastry sounded like a very good idea at the moment. At the last minute, Arthur decided not to take his car, the shop was close by, so he would walk.
Once at the door, Arthur pushed it open, senses overcome by the smell of coffee. Just because he didn’t favor the taste didn’t mean he hated it completely. Arthur was more of a tea person himself, but he couldn’t help but be grateful for this caffeinated water on those days he didn’t get a wink of sleep.
”Morning.” said the girl at the cashier after he approached to make his order. She was young, perhaps a college student. She smiled brightly at him, Arthur couldn’t help but image what could be going on in her head at the moment. Service with a smile. . . What an old saying. Arthur blinked and kept the usual, unamused façade, before smiling back at her. It was a tiny smile, but a smile, nonetheless. Making his usual order of some nice, black tea and a slice of coffee cake, Arthur waited until she came back and paid for his order. Her smile grew wider, if possible, as she handed the cup and bag to Arthur. ”Enjoy.” With a slight nod, Arthur turned away and walked to a small table by the window. Bringing the cup up to his lips, Arthur blew on it slightly, before taking a sip. Oh, the sweet aroma of tea, the view of London in the morning. . . Times like these made Arthur grateful he took up such a lifestyle.
If only the one thing he wanted would just walk through that door – and for some strange reason, Arthur had a feeling it would happen soon.
ooc: Late crappy post is late. 8D and crappy. orz
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ❝ ＮＯＷ ＴＨＡＴ ＬＯＮＥＬＩＮＥＳＳ ＨＡＳ ＣＯＭＥ ＴＯ ＴＡＫＥ ＹＯＵＲ ＰＬＡＣＥ ❞
ｉxxxｃｌｏｓｅxxxｍｙxxxｅｙｅｓxxxａｎｄxxxｓｅｅxxxｙｏｕｒxxxｆａｃｅ
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Posted: Wed Jul 28, 2010 7:33 pm
ＹＯＵxＫＮＯＷxＯＵＲxＬＯＶＥxＷＡＳxＭＥＡＮＴxＴＯxＢＥ
ｔｈｅxxxｋｉｎｄxxxｏｆxxxｌｏｖｅxxxｔｈａｔxxxｌａｓｔｓxxxｆｏｒｅｖｅｒ ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
Upon leaving the hotel, Francis was thankful for the fact that it was not raining outside, nor did it look like it was going to anytime soon. He was well aware of London's frequent rainfalls and though the rain made quite a nice picture, Francis did not wish to become drenched in said beauty on his first day in the city. He probably should have brought an umbrella with him either way seeing as he was not native to the country and could therefore, not know what to expect as its own people did. He also should have thought to pack an umbrella for this trip in the first place, but he was Francis Bonnefoy and thus, with last minute decisions and a one track mind as to his new goal, he simply forgot about such a thing. Leaving the hotel as he was and in a new and unfamiliar city, he probably should have also brought a map or gotten an idea from the front desk where he was going, but be was an artist and so he would go wherever his feet took him. He could always find help in another if he were to get lost at any point during the day.
As it was, he didn’t end up going far from his hotel. Francis’ morning consisted of shamelessly flirting with the local men and women, picking apart the tacky British fashions in his mind, taking a walk through a nearby park where an old woman was feeding some pigeons and made it her duty to tell him her entire life story, and just taking in all he could of the busy streets of London. He passed a small box later that morning, a few children and their parents looking in on something inside, but he didn’t stop to see what could have caught their interest. There was so much else he could be doing today.
Walking through London, Francis reaffirmed the fact that coming to the city was as good an idea as it had been the moment he thought of it. The capital of England was nothing like the home he had known all his life in France however, it had a culture and appeal all its own. Francis thought he just might like it here, as long as he tried his hardest to ignore the foul taste of most of the food and didn't continously compare and judge the city with the grandeaur that was Paris. Yes, Francis believed that if he was going to find what he was looking for, it was going to be here, in the place most opposite from everything he'd always known.
By this time he was hungry and thought it would be a good idea to seek out a place to eat breakfast. He wasn’t in the mood for anything large and so settled for a small coffee shop among the many places he could have chosen. It was a modest establishment, not too fancy or grand looking, though from Francis’ experience those types of places most often seemed to work the hardest at what they did and provided the best kind of service. He didn’t think he would be disappointed in such a place. He opened the door and was met with the aroma of freshly made coffee and pastries the moment he stepped in. He could tell already that he was correct in his assumption and took in the small coffee shop, letting his eyes run over the place itself and its patrons. Francis wasn't looking for anything in particular, but he liked to take things in slow and appreciate what he saw. As it happened, something did catch the Frenchman's eye as his gazed locked onto a rather scruffy looking gentleman sitting by the window.
A slow smile made its way to his face as he walked over to the cashier, not taking his eyes off the other man except to order himself a coffee and add a good amount of milk and sugar to the beverage -he always did have a sweet tooth. He thanked the girl who served him with a nod and a smile to match hers before taking his coffee and making his way over to the table by the window. There were many other seats Francis could have taken and almost all of them were completely free of company however, he took the one across from the scruffy looking man he spotted upon entering the coffee shop. From this proximity he could finally take in the other; he was pale, with short, choppy blond hair, large monstrous eyebrows and eyes as green as newly shined emeralds. He was perfect.
It wasn't unusual for Francis to find inspiration in the oddest of places though finding it in a person wasn't as often an occurence as one might think. As it so happened, this was one of those times when he did find it in another and once Francis had found something he desired he could not be swayed from his muse and all it may lead to. He dipped his spoon into his drink, stirring it languidly before leaning back in his chair and taking a sip from the cup. Through all this he did not once look to see how his actions affected the man sitting across from him but as he pulled the cup from his lips, he looked up to the other, smiling once again. "Bonjour mon cheri. Je vous ai cherché depuis longtemps maintenant."
OOC:
Translation: "Hello my dear. I have been looking for you for a long time now."
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ＡＮＤxＩxＷＡＮＴxＹＯＵxＨＥＲＥxＷＩＴＨxＭＥ
ｆｒｏｍxxxｔｏｎｉｇｈｔxxxｕｎｔｉｌxxxｔｈｅxxxｅｎｄxxxｏｆxxxｔｉｍｅ
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