Francis Bonnefoy / France [Application]

[Francis Bonnefoy]

C H A R A C T E R


Credit: PIXIV #18642745

~years ago when I was younger~

Name: Francis Bonnefoy
Age: 26
Fairy/Folk Tale/ Fable: The Frog Prince [first English translation by Edgar Taylor]
Role: The Frog Prince

I kinda' liked a girl I knew

Physical Description/Biology: A frog.

Only partially joking.

Francis has two appearances, although he retains his personality and consciousness in both forms. Due to a botched curse, he is forcibly shape-shifted into the form of a larger-than-average European tree frog--approximately 102 mm as opposed to the typical 32-43 mm. Size is the only distinguishing aspect between him and natural tree frogs, other than the fact that he can talk and consume human food and drink. His dorsal skin is a light green (only broken by a dark brown lateral stripe that begins at his eyes and descends to the groin), and changes with his moods; these frogs are also slender with long legs that are strong enough for jumping rapidly. Francis often uses this to his advantage, usually while running away from cats. (And they are, indeed, native to France, referred to as Rainette verte.)

Luckily, he only takes this form during the night, and retains his human form from dawn until dusk (echoing the versions of the fairy tale where sleeping beside the princess was enough to break the curse).

His true form is, in his opinion, exquisite. Slender and sleek, he stands at 175 cm--fairly tall for the era, with light musculature and both soft and hard lines. Long, silky hair--often tied up with a lavender ribbon--flows in golden waves, and curls a few inches past his shoulders (his hair is his pride); he lets his bangs sweep haphazardly around his face for a more casual look, complementing his light complexion, although it has hints of olive from him residing toward the Mediterranean. With the final touch of warm blue irises (with a smattering of lavender), Francis considers himself quite... princely. Others call him effeminate, but he often embraces the pejorative, seeing women as beautiful creatures born onto this Earth to be fawned over and admired. (He has a tendency to flirt and flatter any woman--or man, really--he comes across, from peasants to nobility; it's easy to think he's making a mockery out of courtship, but Francis is an oddity that looks for beauty in all things, despite the occasional slap to the face. Being turned into a frog accented those rose-tinted glasses.)

Thankfully, when he does transform, he comes equipped with clothing--typically his noble attire--but more often than not, whatever he happened to be wearing when dusk arrives. (He can't stand winters.) He's very comfortable in his own skin, and has no qualms about wearing nothing at all.

Where they reside: Via Wikipedia, "H. arborea can be found in marshlands, damp meadows, reed beds, parks, gardens, vineyards, orchards, stream banks, lakeshores, or humid or dry forests.They tend to avoid dark or thick forests, and they are able to tolerate some periods of dryness; therefore, sometimes they are found in dry habitats."

Francis likes wet places. /shot

The area of Once Upon A Spell is not his native land; he's traveled quite a bit trying to find The One. Currently, however, he has his eye on a few residents (one, in particular), and resides near Silver Lake (for the freshwater) in one of the abandoned houses he reluctantly (but cheerfully, in the long run) spruced up to acceptable standards (knick-knacks and all). With his trustworthy steed, Montague--from his own kingdom (who was spooked and almost squashed him when he first transformed)--he makes frequent rides into town, often hanging around The Castle. In both forms.

Personality:

Francis is a hopeless romantic, and unabashedly sensual. He loves innuendos and accompanies this with wandering hands; outside of his own kingdom, with a higher chance of being maimed for indecency, he does tone down the sexuality... especially as he's looking for a special someone. He enjoys and will do inane things like quote lines from Shakespeare underneath your window, compose sonnets, sing love songs, and play instrumentals--all for the sake of love.

Unfortunately, in terms of relationships, Francis gets along with most everyone and yet, not at all. Seeing how he jumps from place to place, his relations with others tend to be superficial at best--although the friendships and romances that do linger never die, regardless of the distance. He's very devoted when he wants to be. Currently, his unique situation has him fighting an internal battle over the concept of commitment, as he's a social individual, and can't seem to stick to one person at a time.

A prideful man--and rather irrational--, Francis holds his own opinion above all others... even if the opinion makes no sense at all (e.g., disagreeing with both sides of a debate when there is no alternate option). He makes demands, not requests, used to being waited on hand and foot as a noble (and heir to a throne, much to his father's anxiety and his mother's delight). (He's quite the snob.) This also makes it difficult for him to understand others' perspectives (especially that of the 'commonfolk')--which, as a diplomat in training, he does realize is a fault, and is grudgingly working toward seeing other points of view. He'd end up a disastrous king if he couldn't occasionally look above his own ego.

As a consequence of his royal upbringing, he can put on a stiff upper-lift when appropriate (e.g. court appearances; zipping his lips when he's naturally blunt), and is somewhat pedantic, having been tutored in various subjects, including Latin and Greek, literature and history. (And cuisine; he often tiptoed into the kitchens and learned from the bemused chefs and servants.) In other words, he's cultured. When necessary, he has the capacity for putting aside his passionate, wildly idiosyncratic, and mischievous ways to look at an issue with a critical eye.

Still, he's more playful than anything else.

(There's also the issue of him having to be frugal for the first time in his life. While not disconnected from his kingdom, he's only taken so much bullion with him (...being a frog...), and, surprisingly, managed to snag a job as the master chef in the kitchens of The Castle (as well as a part-time tailor). It's a way to make a living, and he enjoys it. He's currently saving up just in case he decides to move again, although he continues to indulge in minor luxuries.)

Any special traits or habits?:

• He's been trained in the sports of the nobility, including but not limited to: hunting, falconry, horsemanship, archery, fencing/sword-fighting, and some artillery. Also, the arts of war (although he's a greenhorn, here; he'd make a horrid strategist at this point in time) and peace (diplomacy; he's fairly good at this). He's decent at hand-to-hand combat, as well, although he often considers it below him.
  
• There was a court mage and magician back at home, and while he's very weak with magic, several years of (a lot of) exertion has amounted to some healing capabilities and an ability to conjure water (which is infinitely helpful).
  
• He loves to play pranks, but they often backfire on him. (Same with a lot of his romances, really.)
  
• He plays the mandolin, flute, harpsichord, and violin.
  
• He's a wine connoisseur; he adores it.
  
• He also likes sappy love stories; he is extremely emotional/sentimental/what have you.
  
• Ironically, he's not a very good swimmer in his human form.
  
• He usually eats human food as a frog (his body doesn't seem to reject it, and uses it as if he were still human), but--to his horror--finds that he doesn't mind feeding off of small arthropods when he's away from civilization. (Or even within it.)
  
• Similarly, he--to his horror--has found it difficult to resist the mating season.
  

If they happened upon a fairy godmother, what would they wish for?:
To make him fully human, again. (And possibly with a bride.)

He was first cursed when he was twenty-three, on his way to assuming the throne. Unfortunately, he unintentionally provoked a fairy with his haughtiness, and she transformed him into a frog "for the sake of learning some humility." Despite panicking for a good few months, and facing a flurry of confusion and exasperation in his castle (especially with his parents), Francis eventually decided to seek out the solution on his own: from the mouth of the fairy--"if he could find someone who would fall in love with him, he or she could break the spell with a single kiss... while Francis was a frog."

He resolved one of two parts: after getting the bright idea of returning a princess's toy bauble from the well he was residing in (to his chagrin), he eventually persuaded her that he was not just a disgusting little toad (he wasn't a toad, he was a frog, and he wasn't disgusting, mon dieu) and gained an amused kiss when he begged for it. He did transform, and she was quite enraptured, but there was the ensuing problem of him turning back into a frog during the evenings.

Discouraged by the princess's superficiality (he was a very handsome man and a very handsome frog, thank you very much) and the forced shape-shifting, he left the small kingdom to attempt to fulfill the other half of the spell-breaker: "find someone who would fall in love with him." And, possibly, vice versa.

~she was mine and we were sweethearts~

Roleplay Sample:
Finally, finally, it was day. He could hear the birds in their trees chirping at the barely perceptible rays of sun slivering over the mountaintops, casting shadows into the valley, the waters of Silver Lake beginning to ripple as the mermaids and mermen (and heavens forbid, whatever other creatures resided in there; he was careful to stay away from the deepest areas of the lake) stirred in the morning wake.

Croaking out his own delight, Francis's eyes slid open in a pseudo-blink. (It took him a long time to get used to blinking only while swallowing prey. Food.) The lavender tint of his pupils sharpened as the horizontal eclipses flickered to life, taking in the new light and he stretched out the discs on his webbed feet in an impossibly human manner.

Speaking of which.

The dark green of his dorsal skin faded into beige, then pink, then a shade darker than eggshell; bones solidified and fortified and his hind legs elongated in the dewy grass as he slowly rolled and popped his shoulders above his head, wriggling slightly to ease out the kinks in his back, the base of his spine now rubbing against the loose white cotton of his tunic. His eyelashes, long and near-translucent, fluttered open as his face placed the finishing touches--the stubble on his chin, the angle of his cheekbones, his hair curling around him in waves, untied, as he stared up into the sky and breathed cool, fresh air into his now expanded lungs, testing them.

Sometimes, he did have the fear that he wouldn't fully transform, rendering him incapable of functioning as both species. Or maybe that the magic would fail one day, before he'd found his so-called True Love, and he'd be stuck as a frog, forever.

Sighing, and letting his lids slid half-shut, Francis placed his hands behind his head, feeling the grasses imprint themselves into the back of his palms. It was nice, being human.

The sound of trotting hooves reached his ears, and he turned his head lazily toward the direction of the small stable he'd somehow managed to piece together (after asking for a little help from the woodshops in Port Town). A second later, and he found himself looking into the dark, velvet eyes of his horse, the braided mane running at a diagonal as Montague bent his neck downward, snorting softly into his face as if chastising.

Francis grimaced and wiped at the spray of water that speckled his face. "Maintenant, ne se plaignent pas. Il était à l'extérieur agréable, la nuit dernière." He let the same hand drift upward to stroke underneath Montague's chin, and tested his English for the day, clearing his throat.

"It only takes one o'r two seconds, mon ami. I won't be stomped on, unless it is by you." He sat up to pat the other's cheek as the horse huffed, seemingly injured by the reminder, and he chuckled. "Now, now, I wasn't 'urt. Z'e past is z'e past."

A slight wink. "Let's go to town. Time to tease the one I love, ouai?"

Open the door, my princess dear,
Open the door to thy true love here!
And mind the words that thou and I said
By the fountain cool in the greenwood shade.

*"Now, do stop worrying. It was pleasant outside, last night."
-------------------------------------
~that was then but then it's true~

Nickname: rainy
Age: 21
Contact Info: [e-mail] is the quickest way o7

~I'm in love with a fairytale, even though it hurts
'cause I don't care if I lose my mind, I'm already cursed~

[YourFairyGodmother]

This is simply one of the most wonderful applications I have ever seen. Simple and utter perfection from start to finish! My brain cannot even comprehend the extent of its glory. You, my frogish but most handsome prince, are ACCEPTED.