Disarm [Francis]

[Ansigar Hartwig]

Whomever had said that teaching was its own reward….well Ansigar was entirely certain that they were full of shit.

Skritch skritch skritch Another red mark on a paper that meant absolutely nothing, another student failed, another wasted minute spent wondering when children had gotten so stupid. It was sad what his life had come to, especially after how exciting things had been in his younger years, back when he was still finishing up his degrees. After all, there was a certain kind of charm that came with trudging through small, dimly lit caves day after day looking for what essentially amounted to ancient knick-nacks, and certainly sitting around, bitching about children on a daily basis wasn’t helping that itch for power that was always within the back of his mind.

Really, the position he had been granted was little more than glorified babysitting. Frankly, at this point he didn’t care that he wasn’t paying rent, didn’t care that his salary was just a bit higher than his colleagues’, because having to watch over an entire dorm of fucking kids running around with weapons and magic and whatever else all of this madness was was just absolutely exhausting. How many times had he had just contemplated leaving the little fuckers to just run rampant? Too many to count currently, and he couldn’t find any motivation to care currently so that number was probably going to climb. Already he knew that it was almost a futile effort to make them listen anyways, so was it really worth it to try to keep up the appearance that he was even trying anymore?

Setting down the pen and leaning back in his chair, he pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing his eyes in exhausted frustration. No one had told him that there would be monsters and magic and whatever else the hell there was out there when the sky turned green and all the clocks stopped. Frankly if it hadn’t happened night after night, he would have thought it was just a terrible dream after the first time, but the lingering sickness (and one of the kids’ incessant need to check up on his every day; that had grown old fast) that accompanied it, not to mention the bloody bite marks everywhere, had been proof enough.

He sighed, pursing his lips. That came down to the question of what was there to do, if that was going to keep happening? Certainly he could ignore the fact that it existed, that was for sure, and for the last few nights that seemed to be working, but it was impossible to keep most of the students in their rooms come midnight, and from what he had heard in brief snippits when he passed through the halls, everyone was getting hurt or had some sort of terrible emotional problem.

“Feh…” Just teenage drama as always…except that it involved creatures that defied every sort of logic and natural law. Goddamnit, that didn’t even seem to deter all of the problems everywhere around the halls and common areas. One would think that the lingering fear of dying every night would deter some of the foolishness, but it only seemed to increase all of it.

What he wouldn’t give for it to be the opposite.

No, scratch that, what he wouldn’t give to be out of the academy itself.

[/blockquote]

[Francis Bonnefoy]

The first time he stepped out of his room in five days it hurt his eyes. A pale hand--much paler then normal and almost translucent looking covered them from the bright hallways. Though in all honesty the hallway wasn't bright at all. Just a few shades lighter then complete darkness, having risen much too early for even the mice to be awake. He seemed to glow in the almost light. Had anyone been awake to see him they might have mistaken him for a ghost, or perhaps something equally as frightening. He looked the part. His hair was messy and greasy, cheekbones stuck out and his eyes were sunken in, his clothes hung just a tad looser then they should have, fingers a bit more bony. He looked liked Death.

Funny thing Death. They had always held such an interesting relationship. Lady Death was almost his mother in a way, and yet perhaps she was a friend. She watched over him with the kindness of the virgin Mary, gently brushing off all of his his wounds and sending him on his way. Yet, the unfortunate price she dragged with her still affected him. Maybe Lady Death was just a jealous woman, but it seemed as though anyone Francis cared for, enough that he needed them, died. Lady Death never enjoyed sharing. Thus Francis was her ward and her ward alone. So when his love Jeanne came around Lady Death turned green. With a smooth swipe of her hand she stole her light from the human woman's lips without a second thought.

Francis was left broken and shaking in the arms of Death herself.

Wearily he took another step from his room, foot hitting into and knocking over some sort of intruding object. What the hell was in front of his room? A soft clanking was heard as the glass object met the ground, however it didn't break. Blankly he looked down, slow as though his movements were covered in molasses. A bottle. He knelt to pick it up, slender fingers inspecting the glass. A bottle of wine? Who would leave something like that outside of his door? It has a slight layer of dust on it, as though it had been sitting there a few days. Most likely it had, after all how many days had he holed himself inside his room? 5? Yeah, about five, not that Francis had been counting, nor had he been able to see the light from the ever moving cycle of the sun. When Francis bought drapes they'd better damn well block out the sun, and they did. He picked the bottle up, one hand wrapping around the neck of the bottle, the other holding the base. It was then he noticed a card attached. Formal, crisp handwriting, perhaps a tad sharp. It was a simple card, nothing fancy nothing delicate about it. "To: Francis. From:Ansigar." Simple, and straight forward, it was just like the man to do that. However the object brought a smile to his lips, the first in days that wasn't pained, he'd have to thank him.

Thus Francis decided to do just that. After spending the morning and part of the afternoon, bathing, fixing his hair and picking out an outfit he went to the store. No matter how Francis had attempted to hide it with clothes, and even make up he couldn't completely cover how much weight the man had lost. His metabolism was high, his body required a lot of energy and thus food to support. With Francis no longer doing that it ate away at it's self, a snake endlessly devouring it's own tail. His clothes hung from his body loosely, his steps were more then labored and he had to rest often. However he kept a bright smile on his face. The people he often talked with at the market barely noticed a difference.

He returned later with a few groceries in hands. Simple things, like cheeses and other appetizers. He couldn't very well thank the German man with nothing in hand. Francis took care to avoid his friends though, he honestly didn't want to deal with explaining why he hadn't left his room in 5 days. Or why he looked as terrible as he did. Actually, part of him wanted to put his meeting with Ansigar off a few days, however he had probably already kept the man waiting. His nature just couldn't bare to do it anymore then he already had.

Fetching fine crystal wine glasses and the bottle in one hand, and some freshly prepared appetizers in the other he set of to the German's room. Knowing the workaholic man as he did he was most likely there. Sitting alone with some sort of discontent bubbling right under the skin. An amusing image he thought to himself. With a swift hand he knocked on the door, once, twice, thrice, and waited for an answer. "Ansigar, may I come in?"

[/blockquote]

[Ansigar Hartwig]

Alright, alright, it was obvious that no matter how hard he wished, the papers weren’t going to grade themselves, even with all of the stupid magic around the dorm. With a sigh Ansigar reached out for the pile again, glaring at it as if he could will it to disappear with that alone. Alas, there was no sort of spell or tricks that could finish his work for him, and the pile of ungraded exams just sat there, lifeless and, more importantly, unfinished. Sure it would have been a miracle for that to even work, but there had been a small, very small very foolish, part of his mind that had been hoping it would work. Maybe it would be something to look into during the da-no, no that was stupid.

He had to stay realistic, and so the man sighed again, annoyed this time, but sat back up and grabbed his pen, squinting down at the messy handwriting scrawled across one of the pages. He was too old for this shit, that was for sure. Teaching high school brats? Not what he had wanted to do when he had been back in his twenties, not what he had gone to school for so long for. A job was a job though…and his position back in England had been threatened. At least at this academy, there was little chance of getting fired, short of murdering a student it seemed. There were far too many things that didn’t get punished, that didn’t even get noticed, that were highly illegal at this school. Maybe it was just this particular dorm that was like that though…but who cared. Less work, he supposed, if he didn’t have to enforce inane rules. Really, what country was moronic enough to care so much about a little drinking?

Focus, focus. That was something for another night, now it was time for work. With a final sigh and a muttered curse he reached over for his reading glasses so that he could see the little ingrate’s writing better. The fact that he even had them was something of an embarrassment, and he did his best to never use them unless it was absolutely necessary. His eyes getting weaker meant that that he was getting older, and he wasn’t pleased to be reminded of that fact. Just another little bit to add to his already rapidly growing foul mood. Ah well, the papers were waiting, and he could take out his frustrations on those. Now, just focus and back to work and why was someone knocking and asking to come in?

The automatic reaction was to bark a harsh ‘no’ and try to ignore the kid to the best of his ability, but previous experiences had shown him that even verbally mauling the blond wasn’t enough to keep him away. It was like the kid had some sort of disorder where he didn’t process the fact that he wasn’t needed thank you very much. Of course, that hadn’t gone well when he had been ill, and if past records were anything to go by, it wouldn’t go well now, and so to prevent at least some of the headache that was certainly coming on now he merely kicked back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment in order to gather his thoughts. Okay, deep breaths, this wasn’t anything like when he had been sick, not to mention the fact that now that he was back at full strength he could probably throw the younger man out by force if need be, so everything was going to be alright.

Nope, the dull twinges of a stress and annoyance fueled migraine were still pounded behind his eyes.

For a short while he pondered if the incessant obnoxiousness of the kid would be worth the obnoxiousness of the continued banging on the door. Which was worse? His brain quickly decided on the latter, because at least the kid said something interesting sometimes. The banging was just monotonous. He would never admit it, but there was something….endearing about the way that the kid (Francis, he had to remind himself) was at least this persistent. At least he didn’t let much get him down….that was commendable, the older man supposed. And maybe, just maybe it was a little flattering, because currently in this hell-hole of an academy, there had been very few people, staff or students alike, whom had bothered to talk to him for an extended period of time. It was…quaint, perhaps. And maybe just a bit nice. But only because it was something novel concept at the school.

He shrugged, looking over and pushing his work aside before moving to the door, hesitating for a moment. Hell, at least it wasn’t work. …it could be worse. "What."

[/blockquote]

[Francis Bonnefoy]

Francis shifted slightly due to the combined weight of the wine and appetizers. Normally this would be nothing to him. However, he had already depleted his energy almost entirely from his trip to the store. The seconds felt agonizingly long as he waited for the other to answer his knocking. Though, he wouldn't be surprised if Ansigar decided to keep him waiting there all night. Actually, that was quite a distinct possibility wasn't it? After all the Germanic man was not the nicest person he had ever met. It made Ansigar interesting though, it made him different, and Francis liked a challenge. Not to mention he genuinely enjoyed the other's company. Ansigar was strong, both mentally and physically, stubborn as a mule, intelligent, and honestly, didn't seem to want to fuck. Even if Francis did. It was nice for once. It wasn't often Francis came across someone he couldn't woo within the time he and Ansigar had known each other.

As he stood there, waiting, he went over a mental checklist of just how... horrid he looked right now. He was utterly repulsed with his image. His image was everything, and just about the only thing he had. No one would want to talk to him if he were to lose his looks. Sure, there were many who said different, but they were all liars. Francis could never believe them. All in all, the Frenchman believed himself to be a terrible person, pathetic right to the marrow of his bones. However, he was good looking, he could be charming(like a snake. He could very well be the incarnation of the snake that tempted Eve to take the apple.) and damn could he move his body. Francis was the perfect lover, and with that title came looks. Nothing else would matter if he lost them. He would so very easily be tossed into a gutter, and forgotten. Perhaps that is what he deserved though. In fact, that is what he knew he deserved. He was just too much of a coward to do it himself. (Could he be any more pathetic? No, no he couldn't be.)

All the French man could hope was that Ansigar wouldn't notice how terrible he looked. The large (But stylish, always stylish) shirt covered his thinner torso pretty well, but if he shifted the wrong way the material would cling to his body and display it pretty damn well. He didn't have to worry a thing about his pants luckily, jeans hid things well, and unless they were skin tight they wouldn't show off anything. The part he was most worried for was his face though. His cheekbones stuck out a tad more then usual, and his eyes sunk in (because he was just oh so tired. He hadn't really slept either had he?). It didn't matter how much makeup he used to cover it (all natural coloring though) there were some things that makeup couldn't hide without the difference being almost blinding.

He could have almost laughed at the other. What, just a simple what. It was so like him to be so harsh to him, but still, it made him laugh. He knew he was a sweet man deep down, well, perhaps sweet wasn't the word he was looking for. No, not in the least. Sweet wasn't exactly a word to use on a man like him. However there was no time for trying to think of such a word. He straightened his spine (When had his posture become so sloppy? Disgusting.) pulled his shirt down to straighten it and then, quietly pushed open the door. First he poked his head in, a smile on his slightly too thin face. "Bonjour Ansigar~" Francis had always been good at faking a warm tone. Though this one wasn't as hard, as he was actually quite happy to see him. "Z'ank you for z'e gift." He fully stepped into the door, the canvas bag hidden poorly behind his legs. "I was wondering if you weren't too busy to spend a little time with me?" Though even if Ansigar said he was they both knew Francis would get his way one way or another. State that Ansigar needed to take a break, that he worked too hard, perhaps agree to do some of the work himself. Grading couldn't be that hard could it?

[/blockquote]

Notes: Sorry rushed, class is almost done.
Music: Hips Don't Lie- Shakira.

[Ansigar Hartwig]

Wait, what in the ever-living hell was the kid carrying? Seriously? In the moment it took for the elder man to process what was going on, that was apparently all the time that it took for Francis to invite himself in. Apparently his rough answer and the fact that he had opened the door the tiniest bit had translated to ‘come in, of course I’m happy to see you. Stay for a few hours even, why don’t you just crash in my bed while you’re at it too?’, and Ansigar was none too pleased with that. Okay, so he hadn’t been blocking the way in, that was his fault entirely, but generally he assumed people were hesitant enough to just barge right in, especially what with all the caution that he was treated with. Apparently that wasn’t the case at this point, and he merely stared at the intruder, not quite believing that what had happened had, well, happened.

It should have been obvious though, the minute he saw that insufferably cheerful smile. Something was up, something was always up with the kid, and Ansigar had to admit that the younger blond did have the most annoying ability to worm his way in with only a few bright words and a few casual smiles. Goddamn, but it would have been impressive, if only he himself wasn’t usually the current target. It was in that that he always found himself on the defensive, tricked into speaking too much, to revealing things that were best kept to himself, and ultimately giving his own student things that could be used against him. What was worse was that it was a damn attractive quality too, that silvered tongue, and it would be intriguing if it weren’t for the very fact that it was a danger to his own wellbeing!

Ugh, whatever. There was no shoving Francis out the door now that he was standing there. Ansigar had tried before, when he had been ill, and it hadn’t worked out well. Well, perhaps it hadn’t been so much of ‘shoving out the door’ as it had been ‘glaring profusely and attempting to ignore’, but the sentiment was the same. He glanced back as he moved back to his chair, looking the new arrival over for a scant few seconds. Wait, was the kid wearing makeup? Jesus, what was with the people in this dorm? It was bizarre enough that there were unexplainable horrors wandering around outside every night just waiting to kill everyone, but the people that were supposedly ‘lucky’ enough to be able to see them were just plain insane too? …come to think of it, that actually made quite a bit of sense, now that he thought about it more.

What gift was the kid talking about anyways…? He didn’t make a point to give gifts out to anyone, especially not people that weren’t related, so there wasn’t much he could think of that Francis could be ta- oh…oh yeah, the wine. That had been days ago, and he had honestly forgotten about it. Just…something (an expensive something, he had to remind himself) given for the fact that he didn’t want to look ungrateful (or foolish) after…that holiday. Valentine’s day was something that he had learned to ignore early on. It was a meaningless, over-commercialized ploy to play on basic human emotions, and frankly he had no time for such things. He hadn’t since his teen years, and he didn’t understand why people continued to try to involve him in such things. One day of the year wasn’t that important, and there was no need to treat it as such. He had thought that when he had been watching the other boys his age pining after the girls in school, and he still felt that way now, watching the very same things happening with the students he was assigned to keep in line. Still…though he was loathe to admit it, he had…maybe….been a bit touched at the gesture, especially the fact that, well, someone had actually taken the time to acknowledge his previous work. That had been…nice.

The decision had to be made: obnoxious kid, or terrible, dull, hemorrhage-from-stupidity-inducing paperwork? It was a tough call, that was for sure, but in the end, it seemed like the grading just barely lost to the Frenchman, mostly due to the fact that it was an inanimate object and had no powers of speech. That was definitely a bonus that the kid had, even if he tended to run his mouth nonstop at times.

“Ja, whatever.” A customary enough answer, though it held less annoyance or dismissal than usual. Looking back over his shoulder, he raised a brow and frowned, examining what the hell the other had been trying to hide. A…bag? Of what? “….what is that.”

[/blockquote]

[Francis Bonnefoy]

He grinned brightly when he heard the other's answer, and gently pushed the door close. It shut with an audible click that barely rang through the room. Francis shifted his weight once again to rest on his right leg. One hand kept it's position, gently letting the bag hang from his wrist. "Merci." The other hand he raised to place on Germania's shoulder. Leaning in to swiftly kiss him on both cheeks in greeting. He knew this would most likely fluster the stoic man, and he wanted that. Even if he meant nothing by it, it was still endearing. As well as funny, yes, to watch him flush red and glare was a funny thing to witness indeed.

It was almost silly how much the Frenchman enjoyed Germania's company. He'd always go out of his way to talk to him, to bother him. There wasn't anyone quite as fascinating as Ansigar was in the dorms. Perhaps simply because he had more time to acquire stories, many many more days under his belt then anyone else here? And, although information was hard to pry from him it was priceless when he did. Absolutely priceless. And there was nothing wrong with it, after all, one is meant to learn from their elders arn't they? Yes, that's all he was doing. He was just learning from him. It was just a bonus that Francis enjoyed it, and that Ansigar wasn't bad on the eyes either.

Francis found him quite easy on the eyes in fact. Straight long blonde hair (Francis couldn't stop himself from wondering how it felt. It looked soft, like silk, however Francis doubted he used any sort of expensive product to do that.), piercing eyes, a strong face and a good body to boot. Perhaps he was terrible for checking out a man exactly twice his age, but then again who would stop him? No one that's who. Not the mention that wolfish smile he could coax from him once in a blue moon. Oh he'd love to see it more often. A lot more often if one could get his drift.

Francis pulled back quickly, so as to flee from any thing the Germanic man may do in response to the kiss and carefully reached into his bag. He wrapped his fingers around the slender neck of the bottle and pulled it out, grinning widely. "W'at good is wine if not s'ared between friends, oui? It is no fun drinking alone." He was once again sure the man would protest drinking with him. Maybe. Perhaps if it was beer there might be less of a fuss, maybe not. Ansigar had never struck Francis as a wine person. In fact, he didn't seem to like much besides beer. A stupid move on his part not to bring any. Well, at least his room wasn't far away, he could probably sneak away to grab some for him later if they finished off the bottle. Bright eyes flashed wickedly. Regardless, Francis would get his way and they would drink together. He needed a good time after all. Surely he could coax him into helping him.

Nodding at the other's question he pulled the bag higher up (oh god when had it gotten so heavy?) and placed the wine back in before opening it to show off the appetizers. "and w'at good is wine without somez'ing to eat it with?" He could only hope the food would be to the Ansigar's taste. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't even sure what kind of food he liked either, did he? Knowing the man it'd most likely be something simple. Probably something he could just stick a fork in, shove into his mouth and be done with. Nothing delicate and fancy as the Frenchman was used to, or liked making for that matter. Making complicated dishes was a relief to him. It was hard for him to wrap his mind around the concept. Francis had always lived a spoiled life.

It wasn't long before Francis sauntered deeper into the room, gently placing his bag onto the ground. It'd be harder to notice his fatigue if he wasn't carrying it. With a slight chuckle he looked over the papers on the table. "I say, z'at it is time to take a break from all of z'is." He gently started moving said papers to the side of the table in a neat and orderly pile. Such a spoiled child he was. Always getting what he wants. Francis made himself right at home.

[/blockquote]

Notes: Oh god suckiest post ever. I'm sorry it's so terrible.
Music: Saw Red- Sublime

[Ansigar Hartwig]

Why. Why in the name of everything that was holy, did the kid insist on that stupid greeting of his? Sure, Ansigar knew of it, but it was something that he had steadfastly managed to avoid for most of his young life, what with the fact that he generally didn’t make a habit of traveling to more of the southern countries back home in Europe. Fucking French custom. A decidedly noticeable (non-masculine, despite how hard he was glaring) streak of pink stained his cheeks for a moment, as he huffed and made a motion to shove the other away, only to find that the other had darted away, probably for his own safety.

It wasn’t as though the older man was the violent sort…but he had difficulty dealing with the invasion of his personal space. It was something he had never been used to, even as a child, and it had worsened in his older age. Luckily, most of the people around the academy gave him a wide berth, treating him with caution, as If he had some sort of hair trigger and would end up completely melting down if crossed the wrong way. What a foolish thing to think, people really were idiots some times. Still, the overabundance of personal space was where he had made his niche, and his comfort zone was almost zero tolerance for the touchy-feely way the Frenchman behaved.

Still glaring at the retreating form, he sighed and reclined back in his chair, making a point of staring hard at the other with the hopes of making him nervous. Perhaps if he was lucky, he could put the kid off enough that he would leave, leave and not bother him again. …then again, the alternative work and (dare he say ‘lonely’?) quiet night wasn’t exactly a decent alternative. With a quiet sigh, he relaxed a bit, keeping his gaze trained still. There was something…a bit off about the scene in front of him, but he couldn’t exactly put his finger on it. Maybe it was the eyes, the way the kid’s gaze lacked the normal sheen and brightness to it, maybe it was the fact that his movements seemed somehow stilted, hell, he had no idea. …it wasn’t like he made a point to really know how the other acted either. It was just his job to watch people, that was all. Yeah.

The sight of the bottle drew his attention away from the puzzle that had presented itself, at least for the time being. At least the kid had gotten one thing right…though it defeated the purpose of a gift if he was pretty much giving it right back. Ever since he had been a childhood, he had been fond of the sweet wines that his homeland had been made, and even if they had been a rare treat, tastes stolen from foster parents who didn’t keep quite enough of an eye on him, he had retained that love in his adulthood. It was a dirty little secret of his, and if asked he would never admit it, but there was no way that he could shake everything.

It was the memories that stopped him from just kicking the other out outright. Instead he merely nodded, putting on his best ‘not amused’ expression to hide the sudden rush of nostalgia that the situation brought. It wouldn’t do to let the kid know that there was something that he actually cared about, besides the small foray into academics that he had already let slip. That had been a mistake in itself, and he himself still wasn’t sure how the other had managed to coax everything out, but it wouldn’t happen again. It must have been a fluke, just something that had managed to tap into the fact that he felt intellectually starved at the school, nothing more. Still, the very smallest ghost of a grin crossed his lips and the tiniest bit of ice melted in his glare despite his best efforts.

Wait, the kid had brought….what was this, a fucking date? Instantly the nostalgia was gone, replaced again by annoyance and ire. He had never imagined that there would ever be a student, academy or university, who would have had the spine to try to suck up this badly to him, but apparently he was witnessing it now. And what was that shit anyways? It looked delicate, fancy, nothing like what food really should have been.

The mental tirade was interrupted as he watched the Frenchman trounce into the room as if he owned the place. Swearing internally, he moved to stand and cut the kid off, but he was stopped by Francis’ sheer audacity as he began to clear of his desk and what are you doing stop touching my things-

[/color]

One hand shot out, gripping the other’s wrist mid-move and he glared the best he could. “….what do you think you’re doing?”[/size][/blockquote]