Francis Bonnefoy / France [Application]

The Basics
Character Name
Francis Bonnefoy
Age
30
Gender
Male
Country
République française / The French Republic [As I'm not sure of the exact year this RP is set in, I'll go with artistic license and place the country during the first decades of the French Third Republic as it inched slowly toward La Belle Époque. Let me know if I need to change this.]
Hometown
Paris, France [Born in the last years of the Second Empire under Napoleon III (1852–1871); raised in multiple areas]
Occupation
Apothecary/(pre-modern) dispensing chemist. (One of the few remaining. Occasionally circumvents the law by obtaining both legal and illegal substances through whatever means necessary, although not necessarily for malevolent purposes.)


In Depth
Physical Description
While not an imposing figure, Francis manages--in the desert commune of Aldmoor--to stand a good head and shoulders over most of the natives, and matches heights with those of fellow immigrants. He's an odd one: strawberry blonde tresses that fall in waves past his shoulders--almost platinum in some strands due to bleaching from the sun; playful sky-blue eyes that tinge lavender when in the shade; and an unexpected honey-beige tint to his skin--a slight tan that has faded minutely from his childhood. It's hardly garish, though; he's quite attractive and loves to flaunt the fact (and perception of it): he has no qualms about stripping down within the confines of communal decency. (What is that, anyway? Why limit his perfect body to only himself and the lucky few?) Even though his appearance and exhibitionism scandalizes the more conservative patrons of both his shop and his district, he's often "accosted" by the village girls (and boys), who fawn over him being an "exotic beauty" (which he finds utterly amusing). His ability to turn heads among the rest further inflates his ego.

The best way to describe his overall physique is that of "everchanging." He's a mix of femininity and masculinity, and often lands in the in-between of androgyny... which seems to depend entirely on his mood (and the lighting). If not for his stubble, which he wears with excessive pride, Francis would look younger than his years. His build complements that: slender and sleek, with more muscle than fat. Slightly broader at the shoulders, and slim at the waist and hips, he has good balance, which further helps his latent fighting capabilities--a trait privy to only him... and those unlucky stragglers who attempt to skirmish with him, out of sight and away from the public.

Fashion is one of his strong points--he keeps updated on the latest styles in Western Europe, as trends began to emerge in cycles, and standards began to change. A sharp-dresser, he has no trouble pulling off a four-piece suit and other stuffy elements of Victorian-wear--in fact, he has a fondness for cravats, stocks, and scarves; in his opinion, he could wear a jute sack and still be the talk of the town. Or, preferably, nothing at all. Due to his upbringing, however, he's particularly enamoured with the traditional garb of the East, including colonial India and imperialistic China. When he feels the urge, he will truss up himself in frock coats (une redingote)/frocks (une fraque), vests, and the heeled boots of yonder--but you'll be more likely to see him donning Tangzhuang style-dress (as respective to the Qing Dynasty period)/changshan, or Kurta pyjamas and Sherwanis from India, complete with shawls, trousers, and slippers/cloth boots. (Even earrings; he wears gold loops and loves to accessorize; he may as well have been a tailor.) He finds them less restrictive and more colourful than the drab and solemn stiffness of the West. It helps that he loves to stand out amongst a crowd.

He's usually seen with a flirtatious smile.

Personality
Far from "nice," but far from insiduous, Francis manages to come as as both kind and rather mean-spirited. He's a walking contradiction and doesn't seem to mind being the master of hypocrisy. (It can't be helped; it's part of his history.) As an apothecary, he quiets and detaches and focuses on what substances and powders are which, nimble fingers and an anal-retentive mindset documenting and measuring several days of the week; it's influenced his unconscious tendency to straighten things around him. (He's a surprisingly dedicated worker when he wants to be--most people aren't exposed to this side of him, however.) Along the same lines, he's a erudite; a lazy one, but yes, an intellectual. Despite little formal education, he's traveled so extensively and has enough reason to indulge in global affairs that he sharpens in on culture, politics, and social disturbances (whether they involve imperialism or not). (After all, he likes good and easy business.)

As a merchant and semi-physician, he sells. Everything. His personality, his abilities, his wares, his very presence: he sells it all to you. Oh, he's well aware that you'll come to him, regardless--but he has an image to maintain, and what better way of doing that than making absolutely sure you'll never forget him? He likes that--burning himself into others until they can't help but notice and desire him unto the fullest. Like an animal, he makes his mark.

Naturally, this doesn't work with everyone, and Francis can be a very impatient man. He's extraordinarily melodramatic and despises when things don't go his way. Due to his voracious need for acknowledgement (more, more, more) and influence (over anything), he's not above manipulation, coercion, and blackmail. Yet, conversely, he loves a good fight (honing in on a battle of wits) and finds complete submission to be boring beyond belief--hence, a predliction to flitting from one person to another, like a social butterfly. Sarcasm is his mistress. Oh, dichotamies. Despite being a dominant, domineering, power-hungry man--he also respects and cares for other cultures (While highlighting his French core), is sweet to even strangers, and is kind and loving (although not sparing the occasional verbal backhand) to those who win him over, be they friends, family, or lovers. He's wary about trusting too easily, but he's not afraid of getting hurt.

After all, he has no trouble hurting, back.

History
Francis is a Frenchman, and he makes sure that everyone knows it. It's not all that he knows, however.

Born in Paris to successful and politically advantaged merchants, Francis was raised, along with a younger sister, under aristocratic influences. (Far from nobility, however; he saw the lives of the destitute perfectly fine from his bedroom window, and it frightened him as a child, that uncontrolled desperation and anger.) During that time, he was spoiled like none other, and certainly acted the part--mischevious and light-hearted, he was a sweet but utter terror who shared everything with his loved ones and become a possessive brat when it came to others. A typical child.

When Jeanne, his sister, died of consumption at the tender age of two, he grew despondent and uneasy, morose over seeing a death in slow motion for the first time, of his own beloved kin at that. After the burial, with the risk of succumbing to consumption, themselves, and with a dark cloud now hanging over Paris, his parents picked up their wares and decided to go abroad to develop new connections. Francis was barely six. It was this move that created his current persona.

Exposed to a flurry of colors and sounds and exotic customs, Francis was enveloped in a world full of music and literature and dancing that was so intriguing he couldn't help but absorb it within him. His lessons with a German flute transferred to the Indian bansuri; the stifling grammar lessons he'd been instructed in according to L'Académie française lead to the Four Books and Five Classics; his young training with romantic ballet intermixed with that of Bharathanatyam.

Hopping back and forth and in-between the former French glory of Pondicherry, India to the ravished but still resilient Peking, China (and oh, the opium), a smattering of trips to Bangladesh and the rest of French Indochina, Francis, as an adolescent, very quickly developed an interest in traditional medicine from watching Taoist physicians, practically begging instructors of the Ayurveda to accept him as a student.

With a few well-placed niceities, and a little support from his amused but exasperated parents, he began studying traditional arts of medicine and... unexpectedly, martial arts. An emphasis on the healing aspect, rather, with Tai Chi and Qi Gong. (Although, he picked up on the kicking arse aspect pretty soon, as well. His energy levels are off the charts.) Only months after finishing his apprenticeship at twenty-three, his father died of chlorea; devastated and without external family outside of Europe, his mother, Marianne, decided to return to France. Francis felt obligated to follow her, but retained his relationships in Asia.

Setting up shop in Provence, his mother partly retired in the countryside--only occasionally returning to the city to do business--, both of them realized the sharp culture clash and Francis--who'd lived most of his life outside of the country--was treated as a joke in his profession, even in the face of a severely premature system of medicine. Irritated beyond belief, he invested more time to cultivating both traditional and pre-modern methods, indulging in horticulture and herbalism and making visits to Paris and other provinces to compare and contrast. By the time he settled on his own preferences, incorporating both new technology and older healing arts, he'd made a name for himself as an eccentric, but effective physician and chemist (who sometimes helped with underhanded assassinations on the side, but that was beside the point). He'd learned to embrace both sides, through trial and error: his love of France and his love of Asia. They overlap quite often.

Still, by age twenty-six, he was feeling strains of homesickness. Kissing his mother goodbye and promising to keep in touch, he left Provence and eventually made it onto a caravan that would take him back to India. Somewhere along the way, they landed in Aldmoor, and Francis found himself charmed by the eccentricity of this little scrap of land that flourished on its own foundation. With a critical eye to the ever-present imperialism found in most other areas (the memories of learning about Pondicherry being ravaged by the British still made his fists clench), Francis decided to take his chances in this world... while not forgetting the ones he left behind.

Currently, as an apothecary, he formulates and dispenses materia medica, offers general medical advice and a range of services such as simple surgical procedures and midwifery. On the retail front, he sells ingredients for medicines as well as tobacco and, well, opium. Makes a great narcotic during surgery. And hey, a little liquour while he's at it. Imported wine isn't cheap, but it reminds him of home. Tastes dandy, too.

And if you ever need an aphrodisiac. Well. He's more than equipped to handle your needs.

Important/Extra Information

• He has a high tolerance for pain, and has a wicked right hook. Although he doesn't look it, he's a fast runner and fairly athletic. Living in the East taught him to swim; and along with martial arts, he's fairly good at taijiquan (shadow boxing). He's decent on a horse, but better with crossbow archery and fencing. He's all right with firearms, but finds them a blemish on the art of fighting. In his humble opinion, any idiot can shoot a gun.
  
• He's good at chess, but better with card games. He has a fascination with magic.
  
• He's highly resistent to poisons, having experimented with them in small doses to build up immunity.
  
• Although he prefers French--he loves the romantic quality and the way it rolls off his tongue, as if he never left France--, Francis is capable of fluent English, with or without an accent; Tamil, Telugu, Malayalam, Mandarin, Hakka, Yue; and a working knowledge of Bengali, Thai, Khmer, Japanese, Arabic, and Portugese. Luckily for him, Parisian French had more or less already become standarized across the country. (For the purpose of this RP, English will be used.) He will use English more often than not, as it has already started to become an international language for business, although he prefers to pick up a local language so as to not miss a single word (just in case).
  
• His tunics have inner pockets. He likes hiding things in them, and has a dagger strapped somewhere on his person, underneath the folds of his clothing but easy enough to pull out in a fight.
  
• In his free time, you'll usually catch him reading (trashy novels. I mean, classical literature. Madame Bovary is classic literature.), shopping in the markets, having a drink, cooking, or doing any of the above sports. Or flirting. Lots of flirting. And sex. Lots of sex.
  
• If he teases you, chances are high that he likes you.
  
• Still, he can hold a grudge for a very long time. He's a total drama-queen.
  
• He's usually blunt, and can talk your ears off. Since he's usually paying more attention to himself than you, however, he can miss things. When he's not talking, he's much more perceptive and eyes your every move like a hawk.
  

And.

• Watch your drink if you piss him off.

Likes

• Sex, sex, and more sex. Any gender.
  
• Love, both romantic and platonic.
  
• A well-aged bottle of wine.
  
• Strong, dark, hot. Coffee.
  
• Money, although he'll pass on it if there's something more tempting.
  
• The moon. Even if he's used to heat, he likes it when it's cool. He goes swimming a lot for that reason.
  
• Dancing, if it's not stiff, artificial court dancing.
  
• Singing, usually while playing an instrument, unless it's the flute.
  
• Fashion. He often wears jeweled hair-clips for fun, and because he keeps his hair so long.
  
• Cooking; he can make just about anything at this point and make it -good-. French and Indian cuisine are his favourites.
  
• Getting his way. He's a controlling bastard at times.
  
• Repartee. Le sarcasme.
  
• His family--mostly his mother, but he keeps mementos of his father and sister and has letters from other members of his external family, like his Mamie.
  
• Himself.
  

Dislikes

• Being undermined or dismissed.
  
• Being beaten/getting his arse kicked (verbally or physically or emotionally).
  
• Hearing people insult other cultures, but ESPECIALLY the French.
  
• The British. Everything British. Some of the individuals are adorable, but their empire needs a good punch in the face.
  
• Sweet things. He prefers savoury. He'll eat sweets every now and then, but not often. He'll bake or cook them for others, however.
  
• Being polite/having to zip his lips.
  
• Spineless persons; he's willing to duck and cover, himself, but it's more out of an instinct for self-perservation as opposed to legitimate fear. He tends to push these people around.
  
• Alternatively, people who have egos that best his own.
  
• Being interrupted en train de baisement.
  
• Being sick/needing bedrest. This annoys him to no end.
  
• Feeling powerless.
  

Out of Character
Name
rainy
Age
21
Time Zone
(GMT -7/MST)
Contact
drawhigteon@msn.com is the easiest way to reach me.
Anything Else?
I AM VERBOSE AND OVERDO THINGS AND I LOVE RESEARCHING NONSENSE. Pleased to meet you. I am not awesome enough to lolcat. Also, I'm a little worried I overdid this. I wanted to put a twist on the traditional France, but let me know if he seems too. What is the word, even. Cliche? Garty Stu-ish? Unbelievable? I literally wrote this all in one sitting, at 1-2 in the morning, so excuse any errors and let me know what to change orz

EDIT: ...I KNEW I WAS MISSING SOMETHING. /SOBS

OTL /corrects!