whitehairedprettyboy | 01 $$ [video/action for Rocket base]

Excuse me!

[ A man with a long white ponytail and an immaculately tailored (though unusually green) suit graces your PokéGear screen this morning. He appears rather put out, for some reason. ]

I demand to know who is in charge here! I ask that you kindly return me to where I came from! I'm a very busy man, and I don't appreciate being... kidnapped, or whatever it is you've done to me!

[ He pauses, takes a breath, and smooths down the front of his suit. ]

Whoever you are, it is in your best interest to release me before my employees get here. [ His lip curls. ] And if you were going to go so far as to provide me with clothes, you might at least have made them a bit more fashionable. How you expected me to wear those rags...

[ Having said his piece, he reaches for the Gear, presumably to turn it off, when a long green snout comes abruptly into view, sniffing inquisitively. His Snivy's curious about the lighty box, it seems. ]

Ah, yes - and if someone could elucidate me as to what exactly these... creatures are, it would be most appreciated. At least this one seems to have good sense, for the most part - stop smelling that!

[ The Snivy straightens up, trying to look dignified. This is the sort of Snivy who would never think of sticking his face all over a PokéGear. What would make you think that? ]

[ The man, for his part, turns back to the camera. ] If you can provide me with some answers as to what's going on in this place, I will see to it that you are handsomely rewarded. The sooner, the better.

[ And the feed shuts off. ]

-----

[ Any Rockets hanging around the base, feel free to bug Valmont if you run into him in the hallway! You'll recognize him. He's the one in very non-regulation green and a foul mood. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He totally missed the line about suits being "in navy blue or black," didn't he.]

[France beams, though. Even if they have, ah, different tastes, France is not one to judge ~~except he totally is; he's just a hypocrite~~.]

There isn't much sense in this place as a general rule. I would say that suits are a most excellent choice of attire. Nothing accentuates the male figure in quite the same way. I do, too, appreciate a sleek swoop-back dress. There's a lovely balance when those two beacons of fashion are set side by side.

Edited 2014-10-08 18:19 (UTC)

[ It's like you said, France. Personal touches. Even if those personal touches mean blinding everyone with your chosen color of suit. ]

I'm afraid I don't know much about women's fashion. [ They should wear suits too. Everyone should wear suits. Green suits, preferably. ] But you seem like a man of taste. I'll defer to your judgement.

[ Really, Valmont doesn't care about the attractiveness clothing bestows so much as the appearance of class. 90% of what attracts him is money - shouldn't that be the same for everyone? ]

[France consciously preens, a hand lifting in a lazy, self-indicative motion that's just short of a flourish.]

This France is ever the cutting edge of fashion. Others may occasionally attempt to give me a run for my money, but I am the home of haute couture.

[ If Valmont were to object to France's preening, he would be a gigantic hypocrite. So he lets him preen. Besides, he really doesn't mind. It's nice not to be the only fashion-conscious person in a conversation, for once.

...Wait. Did he say his name was...? ]

I'm sorry. Did you just call yourself France?

[France inclines his head, expression knowing.]

Yes, I am the Republic of France. In my world, every nation has someone like me. I'm not entirely sure how to properly explain what I am -

[And France has been trying for nearly four years now on a very regular basis to do so.]

- but the best way to put it is that I am the nation personified.

You expect me to believe that you're the actual country of France? That's -

[ - impossible? Who is he to say what's impossible? Some people would think it was impossible to have spent a portion of your life you'd never get back sharing valuable head space with a demon, and Valmont would tell those people to piss off.

Still, demons are one thing. Claiming to be the entire country of France is quite another. ]

That's... a bit hard to swallow. I'm not saying I don't believe you [ yet ], but you wouldn't happen to have any proof of this, would you?

[France's expression goes lopsided with knowing amusement. He chuckles a little, shaking his head.]

Unfortunately, the most obvious ways that I could prove the manner of my existence to you are barred from me here. What I can demonstrate is that I remember things that no other living being should be able to remember, and I speak languages no longer known to human ears. But then you must believe that I am telling the truth, and the truth is a very mutable thing indeed.

[He spreads his hands in a way that indicates himself and communicates the sentiment what can I do?]

This body is the only physical proof of what I am. I used to despair of that, but there are some who are brought here and not even allowed their own bodies. I am not an ungrateful creature; I can take what I get.

You're serious. Some people here don't even get to keep their own bodies? [ The thought is unbearable. Valmont has just gotten done going through hell and high water to get control of his body back. If, after all that, he were to have it snatched away from him... He doesn't even want to imagine. ]

[ And for whatever reason, Valmont finds himself inclined to believe this man about the France thing. Maybe it's the faint sense of familiarity he feels towards him, as though perhaps they'd met. Maybe it's just that no one who was trying to fool him would come up with such an implausible lie. ]

Suppose you are indeed France. I happen to have some French ancestry, myself. [ It seems like the most inane thing to bring up, but he doesn't know what else to say. ] Would that make us related?

[France nods gravely.]

Some people who are brought here are beings out of legend or who didn't have humanoid forms in the first place. There's at least one world where humans don't seem to exist at all. For them, it's a bit more than a shock to be forced into a form they don't even have mental reference for.

[France can't say he understand the world that the ponies come from, but he can't imagine what it would be like to be forced to take a form that he'd never even heard of before. The concept is monstrous.]

[France brightens at Valmont's ancestry, his hand coming to tuck underneath his chin.]

Related is a good way to describe it. Everyone who is French or identifies a part of themselves as French has some relationship to me and I to them. There's a lot of politics of identity nowadays, but I consider anyone who identifies themselves with "French" as my own.

Well, that's horrifying. [ Valmont doesn't usually make a habit of sympathizing with, well, anyone, but if there's an exception to that rule, it's people who've lost access to their bodies. ] I can't imagine I'd wish that on anyone. [ Well... ] Anyone except Shendu, that is. But he bloody well deserves it!

[ Let's turn to the more pleasant topic. ] Good fashion sense must be genetic, then. [ Was that a compliment? That almost sounded like a compliment. ] The name's Valmont. Charmed to meet you, I'm sure, Mr. France.

[ Now he's curious. ] You said where you come from, every country has... someone like you, yes? You must be familiar with England, then. I don't suppose you could tell me what he's like? [ Please be a gentleman please be a gentleman ]

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