Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Jan 24, 2012 1:53:06 GMT -5
:basic:
Name: Francis
Age: 20
Nationality: French
Birthday: July 14th
Cybernetic Alterations/Enhancements: An automatized right leg, it can allow him to jump high and gives him more physical strength in kicks.
Why?: Francis was only five years old when his parents fought. His father ended up taking him away, but the mix of anger and frustration within Monsieur Bonnefoy made them collide straight into an oncoming car. The man died instantly while Francis was knocked into a coma and lost his right leg. He woke up a month later seeing a face he had never seen before. And to a quiet song, the song ended abruptly as the woman stared at him quietly before smiling widely silently she pulled out a phone and spoke words into it. Francis couldn't speak, at that moment he wasn't even certain if he remembered how to, but less than 15 minutes later his mother burst through the door.
Occupation: CEO of Bonne Vie
Upper, Middle, or Lower Class?: Upper Class
Attitude Towards Bots?:
Appearance: (At least one paragraph)
Francis is a handsome young man blooming in his early twenties. He looks every bit the part as the son of CEO for Bonne Vie, the most exclusive fashion company in the Eishoff. His eyes are a bright navy blue, which look at everything critically able to calculate and look for the tiniest details. But his eyes don't always look for flaws, they look for strong points. He looks for beauty in the world and in everyone he meets.
His nose is straight and his eyebrows are flawless. His yellow blond hair reaches his shoulders gracefully with just a slight wave. His lips are thin but give way to a perfect set of white teeth. His hands are long and not very strong but his finger tips are hard to the touch, they were often calloused since he's been learning how to sow since a young age. He often pricked his fingers and now they're tough. If he's designing something and making true that design his knuckles will often hurt from all the hard work, but it's a satisfying kind of pain.
But overall Francis still looks too young to be doing what he does and that would be because he was. At thirteen he looked like a girl, and then when his body finally decided to hit puberty he looked gangly for the longest time. And at last now that he was "adult" he filled into his own skin. His shoulders became broad and his face grew narrow. Now he at least looked like a man on first sight.
After a long and exhausting show you can normally see him outside taking a smoke. The cigarette in between his lips is quite common and yet not. Everyone knows not to go near him when he's taking a breath of cancer. It's a terrible habit that he can't find it in himself to stop.
His attire changes on a daily basis. From casual to suit wear Francis always draws the eye in a crowd. Growing up and attending University made him realise just how good he looks. And even if he had the ugliest face on earth he would wear the nicest clothing because he was Francis Bonnefoy, the next CEO of Bonne Vie, one of the greatest fashion industries that ever walked the planet.
Likes
[x] Fashion
[x] Smoking, (it's a love hate thing, see dislike for special note)
[x] Cooking, one of his earliest memories was sneaking into the kitchen after his grandmother had shooed away all of the maids and butlers. The old woman took complete control of the room despite the slight shake in her knees. Francis remembers clearly that when Mamie was in the kitchen she was happy and relaxed. But most impressively, that she didn't yell or nag at everyone. It was serene like how much she seemed to belong in the cuisine. He was caught and she taught him how to bake oatmeal cookies. And Francis has never forgotten her recipe and still indulges in it often.
[x] Investigating
[x] Sticking his nose into other people's business, when born under the spot light the first a thing you will be bound to notice is that everyone wants to know what you're doing. And seeing this he became used to the idea and that was how he developed an inherent need to stick his nose into other people's business. He doesn't mean to be rude, to Francis that is just how the world works. People will get into your grill whether you like or not.
[x] Photography,
Dislikes
[x] Smoking Francis started smoking when his mother was first diagnosed with lung cancer, he was 15 when his mother offered him her last cigarette. He knew it was some unspoken tradition that if your parent offered you a smoke you would accept. And even after nearly coughing a lung out, he kept on smoking. Reserving it as a reliever of tension, it would calm his nerves after an especially tying day at work.
[x] Criminals, just when he turned thirteen Francis was kidnapped, to this day he is still unsure of what the true reasons were, it was decided that it was just another demand for ransom but by the bits and pieces of his memory, the Frenchman believes there's another reason for what happened, something darker.
[x] Useless People, when you work in a industry not based on material products but on people, efficiency becomes something of utmost importance. Useless people cannot and will not be tolerated in the least. If you can't do your job then you don't deserve it. But Francis is also a believer that if people want to do a job well they can do it. So it basically comes down on the person them self.
[x] Computers, as a child he was home schooled and his preference for paper over screens was apparent and with their resources at the time anything Francis wanted was a go. He liked the feel and smell of paper while the cold computer screen just made his eyes water and burn at the same time.
Strengths
[x] Design: Drawing and Sewing
[x] High jumps
[x] Kicks
[x] Honest to a fault
[x] Understanding a situation
[x] Studies
[x] Coming to right conclusions
Weaknesses
[x] Impatient
[x] Hold grudges
[x] Easily frustrated
[x] Easily makes enemies
[x]
:advanced:
Personality: (At least two paragraphs)
Francis Bonnefoy would insist to the paparazzi that he is exactly like any other student. His life is mundane compared to any other celebrity. No major scandals despite his sometimes flamboyant attitude. Because behind his pretty face there’s a mind at work. He accepts the spot life, he accepts his lifestyle and will flourish in it, but he would not let it control him. Despite not being too spoiled by his mother as a child, Francis is still very impatient at times. He gets frustrated when things don’t go his way. He’s also very stubborn but this a trait all CEO of major companies tend to acquire.
History: (At least two paragraphs)
Where to begin? Perhaps with the birth of a child in an unsuccessful relationship. Though the parents hated each other there was no doubt that the little baby boy wasn't loved. But the reason why this relationship was no good was as big shock not only to the world but the husband himself.
"You're gay!?" He exclaimed, dread, horror, disgust, all of it was written on his face. He exclaimed it twice as if once wasn't enough. "Yes," the woman replied in her native language. "I only married you to get a child and now that I have one. We can end this farce." The truth was, her mother had at last died. Leaving the beautiful Elise free from her piercing and judging glare. But with that revelation, the man Francois took away their son, exclaiming how he wouldn't let her corrupt his boy.
And that was basically how Francis, a five year old boy found himself in a car accident.
Waking up in the hospital was strange, the boy felt so strange, thin and heavy at the same time. He didn't realise it at first with his mother crying over him and kissing him. He felt like he was away for a long time but at the same time couldn't remember much. The last thing he remembered was standing on his seat applauding his mother's model's at the annual Bonne Vie show.
The only thing that he really noticed was that the woman from earlier was still in the room. Francis couldn’t believe how beautiful she was. She could never be a model though, for she was petite and much too young looking. He knew this at the age of five. But he knew that none of the models were as pretty as she was. Models were mannequins you aren’t supposed to look at their faces. You’re supposed to look at the clothing they advertise. It would be impossible with this girl. But she had a smile that lit up the room. Upon closer inspection Francis realised that she was a nurse.
His voice was much to coarse to speak, he could hardly move, he felt so weak. It annoyed the little boy, he felt restless and exhausted at the same time. A doctor came and started to explain things simply to Francis.
“You were in an accident…You slept for a month…You need rehabilitation.”
He was familiar with that word, because when you live under or near the spotlight that word comes up a lot but from what the little boy understood was that it is because the people were doing bad things and rehabilitation will help them not to. He wondered what was the bad thing he did.
It was then that he realised that he was missing a leg. All the while his mother cried with relief repeating her son`s name. Francis...Francis...He would have been named Francois if Elise was any less stubborn. It was she who after much arguing decided to name him Francis instead of naming him the same as his father. This way, she defended, we wont have to call him Junior.
So as for any child who lost a leg he learned to live with his handicap. He didn't mind it so much. As he was young and didn't really see the difference until summer came around. He understood that he didn't have two legs like the rest of the children. He had a prosthetic leg. He became insecure about his appearance, which was ridiculous for a Bonnefoy. But like he learned from the fashion and model industry you need to downplay your flaws and show off your good points. By the time he was 8 he looked like a perfect little girl. He didn't mind as he was always surrounded by women, he felt no need to be manly. It was man who basically stole his leg in the first place.
He learned the ways of the company studying in Fashion design there was no denying that just like his mother and grandmother before him, Francis was a fashion genius. But he refused to be part of any photo shoots other than private family pictures. He felt that he couldn't be in magazines despite his mother's and everyone’s reassurance, he was taught that the fashion industry revolved around perfection. The seeking of perfect beauty, with a missing leg he felt he would be cheating that moral code of fashion and art.
But his outlook change on himself just a bit when his mother told him about the new cyborg technologies. Francis was ecstatic, cosmetic surgeries didn't shock him and too him it just meant he could go swimming with friends now and not just in his private pool. He was excited to start his life as a a cyborg.
He was taking martial arts before just to keep in shape but now with a loaded up realistic looking prosthetic leg he found his kicks packed more punch than ever! He couldn't believe it, he absolutely adored it! It was after he was finally used to his leg that he could at last see himself in the mirror and grin fully with all the confidence he used to fake.
Francis became more enthusiastic in the Fashion industry than ever before. To his mother it was obvious that even at twelve he would surpass her too soon. And she was absolutely proud of him.
But something unexpected happened, at thirteen years old Francis was kidnapped. There are only a couple of things he can remember from that event, a van and men that smelled terrible. They spoke in hush harsh tones. But the thing he remembered the most was their decision on what to do with him.
"She' a real beau'!" "Oi! This she is a bloody he!" "Shut up you limey bastards! It doesn't matter what fucking gender, it can be change later according to fucking kinks! Let’s just get the kid on the table to start with!" And then darkness again. He woke up to an argument.
"A cyborg!? You mooch'd us a bloody cyborg?! This is what we g't for working with this American dope!"
"As if you coulda' told the difference!" "Why don’t you guys just calm the fuck down eh! A cyborg isn't all bad how many people do you think can afford getting their kids a leg like this, eh?! We can put him up for ransom and then we won’t have to worry..."
Eventually he woke up alone in a warehouse gagged and bound. He felt dirty like he hasn't been washed in days, and his stomach was giant empty knot, twisted together by fear and hunger. He started to sweat, his breath was coming short through the gag. He couldn’t breathe. His eyes darted from one end of the warehouse to the other trying to piece together what was happening, everything clicking together with each loud beating of his heart.
All he could think of was his mother. She must be worried sick right now, how could this have happened!? He didn’t understand- A light broke into the warehouse blinding Francis. He looked at the ground closing his eyes. It must be the kidnappers! He had to do something, there had to be something he could do to fight them off. But then voices cut off his thoughts, they were calling out his name – it sounded like his mother- suddenly a man’s hand went to his shoulder. “Are you okay son?”
Tears fell from his face as he was ungagged, and cut free and soon his mother had run free from the officers that held her back. Francis opened his eyes just in time to see his mother disheveled appearance. Her normally well placed hair was everywhere and there were dark circles under her eyes, not a single attempt to cover her worry with make up or fancy clothes. She embraced her son he couldn’t make out her hysterical relief. He cried through gritted teeth, he was angry and frustrated that her mother was in such a state. Angry that he was kidnapped in the first place!
They held each other tightly, the police officers had to force the two to their feet to vacate the facilities. On the ride home, Elise and Francis held each others hands. Both of them tired and relieved beyond belief, after finally finishing what had to be done at the station.
“Francis,” his mother continued to speak to him in their native language. “No matter what, we can’t lose each other, we are all that we have. There’s the two of us and our name that holds us together.” He could only nod mutely and it wasn’t until he was much older that he learned how much was demanded for ransom, how much work Elise had to go through to keep their enterprise a float. How much work would be waiting for him when he took over Bonne Vie.
For the Bonnefoy’s were no longer extravagantly wealthy themselves, they got by with managing a fashion empire. And Elise proved herself to be nearly unbreakable as the queen of Fashion.It was just a couple of months after the kidnapping that Francis learned of a most particular fad. Bots. Anyone who was anyone was getting these human looking robots. And his mother had a thing for fads. And she wasn't going to be left out.
But Francis was at that age, the age he wasn't naive enough to know that these robots were just being used as maids or butlers. It was much more than that. These bots were a tool. A sex tool, and he wasn't afraid to face his mother about it either, for this age was also the age where he was willing to confront his mother head on about affairs.
"Of course I`m planning on sleeping with the bot,"she began as she looked at Francis through her mirror her long golden hair was laid over her chest as she continued to brush it without a pause. "The thing is too expensive not to do so." Francis shook his head in disbelief. "They're not human! It`s not even a cyborg! they're computers with legs! Why would you ever want to sleep with one?!"
Elise turned to face her son, they were practically identical. The same eyes, nose, hair, even the softness of their skin, they were mother and son. "Just to be able to say that I have. Nothing more and nothing less. When you get to the top Francis, when you're my age and you understand the industry you will understand."
Francis decided then and there he didn't want to understand. but his mother left to purchase one of these bots, and Francis stayed in his room that night and practiced his kicks.
It was strange, for a couple of weeks Francis knew there was a bot in the house but he has yet to see it yet. Knowing there was someone- no. Something else unknown to you made him feel uncomfortable. But he was still angry at his mother, so he would not allow himself to give in. But, giving in didn't mean not looking at the thing.
He found himself in front of his mother's door just as he found the resolution to look at the bot. His mechanical leg nudged the door, Elise had left for a photoshoot earlier so only the thing should be in his mother's room. His foot pushed the door open with too much force, his original plan to peek in stealthily failed as the door open wide.
Francis did not see a robot when he opened the door all he saw was a girl sitting on his mother's bed with her back facing to him looking out the wall size windows. She wore a simple white gown, it exposed her arms and most of her shoulders. Her neck was revealed as her sun coloured hair was cut short, it bounced out in all directions, not kept tidy instead the short locks seemed to relish in the sunlight with a natural beauty and grace. The sun cascaded her in light, and the room was a lit as her voice sounded gently and much too quietly. And the song itself reached it's end too soon.
"-Je vois briller l'étoile, qui guide les matelots."
The sound of her voice drifted into silence. And Francis could do nothing but stare in awe, his jaw dropped in quite an undignified manner. The girl turned her head, he met with the colour of sky, it was a pale blue mixed with gray. Her lips were full and her face round. He was struck by her beauty, her beauty was so nostalgic to him that he couldn't place it at all. But he was also struck that to him the voice did not match her eyes. The song was filled with life and her eyes were half-lidded in a daze, and- He recognized the feeling, he couldn't put a word to it at first but then he knew as the seconds ticked by. Timeless. Timeless in such a way that it was harmful, like she had no past and more harmful- no future.
A doll, she looked like a doll.
And that was when he remembered that this was not a girl, but a robot. The robot his mother had purchased, his mother's new lover. A tool. A sex tool.
Francis ran.
He ran faster than he ever had before his human leg burned with exhaustion as the cybernetic leg pushed him harder and longer. He ran past a maid and down the hall, all the way to the back door, exiting the house to the lavish garden outside. He only stopped running once he reached the stone fence. He breathed heavily against it, one clutched his chest while the other clutched his human leg. He could feel his blood pumping into his veins, the adrenaline released from his sprint was going strong.
And it was just by standing there breathing that he remembered where he saw that woman before. It was the face that he kept close to his heart, a source of inspiration for all of his works.
The bot... was the nurse he had seen when he was five years old.
- For what comes next follow Francis' catalog at a later date TBD-
RP Sample: (At least 150 words)
His blue eyes stared down the piece of paper that littered his locker, taped so that the three words would fill his vision the moment he opened it. Francis Bonnefoy blinked at the paper, almost questioning its presence. Almost, but the fact being when you were a rich bastard -your classmates will treat you as such, and events like these become a daily occurrence. So ‘FUCK YOU FAG’ greeted him cutting his thoughts on what class he had next. Not letting the paper intimidate or phase him he simply pulled it off, only the tape and a small piece were left behind, he dropped the paper lamely to the floor and grabbed his math text book.
Closing his locker he left the hallway at a steady normal pace walking until he reached the nearest bathroom to his math class. Ducking into the boy’s washroom he examined his own features. He looked set and as he always did, well managed and especially well groomed. He was good looking there was no denying that, and his effeminate features still shone through even with that stubble that finally decided to grow. But his face was narrow and his shoulders were broad, he was a man. And who gave a fuck if he was attracted to other men? The three words echoed in his mind. He gritted his teeth, dropped his textbooks and pulled his body into an offense position and aimed his cybernetic leg and kicked. Stopping less than an inch from the bathroom door. The strength in it would have clearly send the door into wall, but he had stopped himself.
He had control.
Control over his body. He relaxed himself and stood to his full height and picked up his books, shooing the three words away. He had control over his mind. Francis walked out of the bathroom, a small smile on his lips as he entered his senior level math class. He had control over his life.
: ooc information:
Name: Julia
Age: 19
Time Zone (GMT +/-): UTC/GMT -5 hours (Standard Eastern time in NA~)
Experience: lots
Contact Information: ask and ye shall receive
The stakes are in my favour as always. /evil laughter here.
