« Ma sœur Nation, ma sœur Nation,
Dormez-vous? Dormez-vous?
Sonnez les matines! Sonnez les matines!
Din, dan, don. Din, dan, don. »
The young woman smiled in her semi-sleep. Whoever was singing had a gorgeous voice. She rolled over and breathed out as the tune was repeated. She loved to sing. Maybe whoever was singing could be her friend and they could sing together all the time and –
Her eyes snapped open as realization dawned on her. She sat up quickly, narrowly missing her head on the rocky ceiling and gasped at the sight of France casually lying on his back by the entrance. He stopped singing when he noticed she had woken. "This is certainly cozy, non?"
"How long have you been here!" The young lady fought to keep her voice to a strangled whisper instead of the shriek it wanted to become.
He grinned and waived a hand airily. "Ah…you don't need to know…"
"Um…" She cleared her throat and asked the first question that came to mind. Anything besides France and his strange habit of watching people while they slept. "What are those big leafy things called?" France proceeded to raise an eyebrow in bemusement and pretended to think about it, tapping his jaw mockingly with a slender finger. She huffed and opened her mouth to ask again, but he held up a hand. "You're actually serious?" He grinned again. But he answered eventually.
"Ils ont les palmiers…"
"Les palmiers…" The young woman paused before emitting a loud cry of delight at having finally found the answer she had been looking for since she was a child. She quickly clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the noise, but her eyes still shone with juvenile glee.
France merely shook his head with a small smile. Still young.
They sat there (or in France's case, lay) for a while longer, listening to the island life. Until the young woman remembered with a start that she didn't really want France here.
"Um…can you go away for a minute? I need to…um, you know, get ready."
France stared at her for a second before jumping slightly and acquiescing, backing out of the cave and (not really) trying to banish the dirty thoughts from his mind. The young woman scoffed and ducked into a small back-exit to…go.
I I I
By the end of the day, France was nursing many small scratches from overhanging vines and a pounding headache, no doubt brought upon by the constant questioning (nagging) from the young woman walking beside him.
Did she really have to ask so much? Where was she even getting enough material to fill up the entire day? Oh, wait! What was that? Ahhh…blessed silence. But before France could so much as emit a small, satisfactory 'Oh hon hon hon,' the young woman was speaking again. He sniffed, miffed and turned his head slightly to the right to indicate that he was listening.
"Do…do you have any friends? Or is all just business with Nations?" She played with a strand of her hair.
France raised a perfectly trimmed eyebrow before answering hesitantly.
"Well, we all have certain…relationships, you could say. Sometimes bad, sometimes good, sometimes…temporarily advantageous." He smirked as she frowned.
"Temporarily," she asked tentatively.
"We live for a long time, ma chère. We get bored and, ah, move on."
"Right." She wondered what exactly nations 'moved on' from. "Well, do you have a good relationship right now?"
France shot her a look of incredulity and pulled a strange red flower from within his clothing. The young woman wondered where…oh, never mind. It was France, after all.
"Je suis la Nation de la République Française – la Nation d'amour." He tucked the flower smartly behind his ear and bent down, grasping one of the young woman's hands and placing a delicate kiss on each knuckle, before grinning at her. "I am always in a relationship."
She grimaced and pulled her hand away, pointedly wiping it on her blue dress. Even though there really wasn't anything to wipe off. He was good at being charming, she had to admit.
"But you must have one person in particular who you really care about!" She persisted on his answering the question. Maybe he would finally tell her about another Nation!
France paused for a second before his smile softened and his eyes stared off into some distant memory. "There is a colony… His name is Canada."
"Who?"
"Canada. And the best thing is: he's my colony."
France winked and continued to walk lazily down the semi-pathway, whistling. When the young woman stared after him, smiling slightly, he stopped and looked back. "Enough about silly Nations. What else do you want you know?" He cringed as he realized that he had just brought indefinite minutes of non-stop questions upon himself. Luckily, the young lady didn't seem to notice.
I I I
And so went the next week. Whenever France was not busy with mapping or scouting or maintenance working or other various errands, he would find the young woman somehow (how did he do that?) and they would talk and talk and talk. Monsieur Picault would often wonder why France came back to the ships at night so worn out. He didn't ask though, preferring to let the Nation be. Although, the captain had his thoughts. Knowing France, these thoughts were a lot less innocent than what was actually happening – France merely getting his ear talked off.
Monsieur Picault gazed off into the wild unknown from the bow of the Elisabeth, marveling at how he, a Frenchman, had been given the opportunity to explore this Ile d'Abondance for his country – France. Those stupid Englishmen should just throw in the towel already. France was clearly far superior than, well. Than everyone else! Especially those Englishmen.
He sighed contentedly, mood reflecting the peacefulness around him. Take away his loud-mouthed sailors and this would be an ideal place to settle. The world could not confine him, oh no.
But it was time to head back to L'Ile de France soon. He needed to report his discoveries. Those were his orders, after all. Yes. Tomorrow, he would gather his men and prepare to cast off, so to speak. Hopefully he would be granted the chance to return to this beautiful island.
Maybe it's even a chain of islands…
I I I
The young woman's feet dangled off the edge of the Thinking Rock and she watched the French sailors prepare to leave.
She could wait. She had been telling herself that every day for the past week. It wasn't like the only living things she had seen in…well…ever were leaving for who knew how long. Except that they were.
She sighed. France was busy helping out with his captain and crew. He didn't have time to answer her questions today. He wouldn't for the next while. She sighed again and hopped off of the Thinking Rock. She walked slowly towards the ships – The Elisabeth and the Charles, France had told her.
She took care to walk within the tree line, so as she wouldn't be spotted.
A coconut (that's what France had called the brown-nuts) fell somewhere to her right with a distinct thud. She glanced at it and remembered the coconut she had sent off into the unknown. She wondered what had become of it.
Her mind was suddenly flooded with distant childhood memories. How innocent she used to be: alone and unaware that there was something out there that could cure her loneliness. But how could she have possibly been lonely when she didn't even know what the term meant? She shook her head. It just sort of occurred to her, really. Like 'Nation.' And 'romanticism'. But she wasn't about to admit to France that she didn't know what it meant. Maybe it was all just a part of growing up?
She scoffed in frustration and kicked at a clump of rotted vegetation before looking up and realizing with some surprise that she reached the ships and quickly sat behind a rock, watching. She noticed that France was wearing his hat again. Where had he put it this past week, anyway? On second thought, she didn't particularly want to know where he put it as she imagined it could possibly scar her for some indeterminable amount of time. The trinkets still glittered, though.
She sat and mused, and sat and thought, and sat and drew shapes in the sand. She really didn't know how to react to this situation. Her entire life she had been alone, always wondering – wandering – watching - (waiting?) And within one week, this – this Nation - this France, suave and amorous had succeeded in turning her life upside-down. And now he was leaving, naught to return for years. This was really, really too much. Could she handle being alone again for so long? Certainly she would meld back into the way she had raised herself...wouldn't she?
"Ma chère..."
The young woman jumped as France poked the back of her head teasingly. Had she really been thinking so hard as to not notice his pompous steps?
"Bonjour, France."
She pushed his hand away and stood up slowly, brushing sand off of her blue dress. She eyed him wearily and knew this was the last time she would talk to him for a long time. He eyed her for a moment. "How do you tell someone 'goodbye' where you come from?" He stepped towards her. She narrowed her eyes and answered, slightly snippety: "I don't know – I've never said goodbye to anyone before." He was getting rather close, wasn't he?
He took another step closer. "You really have no idea?"
It was when he reached a hand out to her direction that she purposely stepped back, out of his reach. Who knew what he could have done – what he could be thinking of doing? He looked crestfallen for a second before his hand flopped back to his side and shrugged, leaning against the rock and positively personifying 'alluring.' Tch. Wasn't personnifying a country enough for him?
She tried hard not to stammer. "Um…well, I have some idea." She nodded pointedly in his direction (to be polite, right?) and waved. She meant it to be sort of friendly, (not actually friendly, of course) but it ended up being more…awkward than anything else.
He raised an eyebrow (stop doing that!) and waved back – still leaning on the rock, smiling perplexedly.
They stayed like that for a few seconds, neither moving nor speaking, until – with a small start – France pushed himself off of the rock face and turned away, back towards the ships.
"Au revoir, ma chère. Sois bien, maintenant." He did not look back as he said this.
She hovered, anxious. This didn't seem right. She watched him walk away, away, away from her – back to his own life, but he had incorporated her into his life, right? And what had she done to thank -
"France!" She poked her head around the right side of the rock and called his name, not really caring if she was heard. She probably wouldn't be since the ships were pretty far away, anyway, but she had to tell him – she had to, because it would be rude if she didn't and he deserved it (even if he was weird and full of romanticism) for putting up with her and introducing her to this new, wonderful, terrifying world.
He stopped and turned around, looking at her questioningly.
She grinned and yelled: "Merci beaucoup! Pour tout – merci, merci, merci, merci!"
He laughed (Oh hon hon hon hon hon!) and saluted, before turning back again and wading towards his vessels and off to…where was he going anyway? She laughed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She had forgotten to ask him where he had come from besides France! From what he had told her, it was too far away for his country to send a voyage all the way here. Next time, for sure she would ask him. She grinned and watched France's receding form grow smaller and smaller. Next time…
AN - Wooooot! Chapter 4, yo.
Translations: « Ma sœur Nation, ma sœur Nation, Sister Nation, Sister Nation
Dormez-vous? Dormez-vous? Do you sleep, do you sleep?
Sonnez les matines! Sonnez les matines! Morning bells are ringing, morning bells are ringing
Din, dan, don. Din, dan, don. » Ding dong ding. Ding dong ding.
Based off of 'Frère Jacques,' of course.
Ils ont les palmiers: They are the palm trees.
Je suis la Nation de la République Française – la nation d'amour: I am the Nation of France - the Nation of love
L'Ile d'Abondance, L'Ile de France: Island of Abundance, Island of France/ France's Island
Sois bien, maintenant. Merci pour tout: Be good, now. Thanks for everything!
Footnotes: So the song "Frère Jacques" wasn't actually published until 1811, but there is a striking resemblence to "Fra Jacopino," (Brother John) an Italian piece written in 1615. So let's just say France heard it and manipulated it. ;)
Specifically, the palm trees mentioned are the Coco de Mer, (Sea Palm) native only to Seychelles.
During this time period, (have I specified yet? I will soon, I promise. XD) Canada (the colony) belongs to France, so he can have his merry way with him. So some Franada references to come. :D
Monsieur Lazare Picault was a French explorer known primarily for his explorations of the Seychelles Islands. In 1742, (there's the time frame) he took two ships to the Indian ocean and discovered Seychelles' largest island (later called Mahé) which he named L'Ile d'Abondance. The two ships were indeed called the Charles and the Elisabeth, which is strange, I think - they sound quite British, don't they? But 3 different searches have told me the same thing, so... Let's roll with it. Only the largest island was discovered at this time.
You'll find out about L'Ile de France later. :)
And that's about it! Hope you enjoyed - reviews would be nice, too! :D Thanks for reading.