The young woman in the blue dress still did not know her name. She remembered how easily she could forget about this predicament when she was a child, but now… Now she tried every day in vain to come up with something suitable. It never seemed to work though. No matter. Perhaps next time.
Her hair swirled playfully, making patterns on her face before being blown lazily away by the wind once more. Even the dense vegetation couldn't keep the wind out. She knew it was probably a lot stronger outside the tree line.
She walked aimlessly through the jungle, following homemade pathways and meandering around the big leafy things which she still hadn't found a name for.
She felt so incompetent, she realized and…lonely? What did that even mean? The word was unfamiliar in her mind. Did she yearn for the company of others? Those on the ships, perhaps? Something inside of her clearly said: No, no. Someone like you. Startled, the young woman clutched the skirt of her blue dress and sank slowly to the ground, her head eventually coming to rest on top of her knees. There were differences? What was she?
She fought and fought, but after a while her shoulders began to shake and small sobs occasionally broke through her grit teeth. She had always been curious and hungered for answers, but lately her appetite had become insatiable. She had lived for hundreds of years alone on this island, only able to watch as those others on the ships were able to travel to distant lands. Did no one care about her? Why did she even exist?
CRASH!
She stifled a scream in response to the sudden noise and leapt up, simultaneously diving into a large fern at the base of a large leafy thing just in time to escape the notice of a group of men traipsing through the trees.
"Je n'ai su pas! C'était une roche stupide…" A straggler who had obviously just face-planted.
"Con! Lèves-toi!" All the support he received came in the form of rudeness.
The young woman almost giggled at the insult, but held her tongue as she managed to get a good look at these strange people.
They wore loose white shirts tucked into startlingly blue pants, complete with a red sash around the waist. Well, some of them did. Others were using theirs to clumsily mop at their face, cursing while they did so. Their shoes were black and buckled, and probably would have been shiny if they didn't drag them around in the undergrowth so much. Some had blue buttoned jackets to match the pants, but again, more than a few were slung over a shoulder. Their hair clung to their heads and sweat was extremely apparent, she noted with a slight sense of disgust. All in all, they really didn't seem at all suited to be roaming around in the jungle.
They continued on their way and she glared off in that direction before springing lightly to her feet and running as quietly as she could in the opposite direction, to the beach.
What she found there stole her breath.
Two gigantic ships anchored just off shore. Two massive beasts looming, cutting off the horizon. Before she could really take in this awesome sight, she realized that there were more sailors swarming around on deck and ducked behind a rock, squeaking softly.
Her heart beat incessantly, cutting out every noise except for the sailors' foul French curses.
What was happening? What did they want? Why now?
But within her steadily mounting fear and confusion there lay excitement. Thrills coursed through her body that had nothing to do with misery or anxiety. Her eyes gleamed as she realized how much information she could have, how much knowledge she could absorb. But how to come about it?
She decided to just sit and watch for now, maybe glean things from these people – these outsiders.
She discovered that these men, despite their flashy clothing and their extremely dirty mouths were really quite comfortable around the ships. They worked together to tie ropes, hoist canvas, and everything else in-between. They had obviously come here for a purpose. They rushed around in what seemed like tandem, but their efforts paid off because soon enough, they were shimmying down thick moor lines and splashing lightly into the water.
And then, she saw them.
She could tell that they were important due to the sheer size of their hats. Said hats were adorned with velvet, feathers, ribbon and trinkets – all of which shone...somehow. The young woman noted their straight backs and unyieldingly precise posture. These two didn't follow orders, they gave them.
She knew one of them was the leader (was there a name for that?) – the one on the left. She could tell because of the many emblems on his dress coat. But who was the other one? The leader's right-hand? No... That didn't seem right.
The leader barked out an order in French and the sailors responded in unison and scattered. He then turned towards the other and conversed with him for a moment. The young woman stared, confused and unable to hear any exchange of words. There were a lot of hand gestures though.
Who was this man and why was he so important as to receive private information from the leader?
She watched as he clapped a hand onto the man's shoulder and walked below deck; probably to his quarters.
The strange man spared a glance over his shoulder and stood at ease, hands behind his back and stared out into the jungle. The young woman ducked even further behind the rock as his eyes roamed, scrutinizing every inch of what he could see. Or so it looked like.
She wondered if he was looking for her.
(She wanted him to find her.)
She wondered what would happen if he found her. That is, if he was actually looking for her, of course!
After a while, the man unclasped his hands and made his way to the mooring line. The young lady had to stifle yet another gasp at the way he expertly manoeuvred his way down the ropes – as if he had been at it for hundreds of years!
When he came to the last ten feet of rope the man let go of it entirely, making a perfect landing and waiting patiently for his hat to float squarely on top of his hair. Which was perfectly groomed, really. No sweat or dirt there. Which kind of made no sense since there was a lot of it. Shouldn't more hair attract more grime? Especially such blond hair?
As if the man could tell he was being watched, he straightened his already perfectly aligned hat and brushed a lock of perfect hair out of his face. Which was just blown back by the wind.
This seemed to amuse him and he smirked before striding out of the water and onto the sand. He didn't appear to be in any rush and to the young woman's horror; he stopped parallel to her hiding place – about fifteen feet away.
"Je sais que vous êtes là. Viens ici s'il vous plait~! Je veux voir ton visage."
His eyes were closed and he was not looking at her, but the young woman knew he was addressing her. She knew she was caught, so without much internal conflict she stood up to face him, but stayed where she was. She would not be caught off guard.
"Maintenant, mon cher…" He finally looked up at her and paused, startled.
"Oh la la~! Ma ch ère!"
The young woman blinked at the sudden change of attitude. The man walked forward, winked and continued on. The young lady had to stop herself from taking a pointed step back.
"Et très belle, aussi. Oh hon hon hon hon!"
The young woman's hands clenched into fists as she was scrutinized like the island before her. It took all of her will power not to reach up and slap this guy across the face for being so intrusive. And that laugh! How revolting! She really had to put a stop to this nonsense.
"Arêtes!" She had to clear her throat before continuing on. She hadn't used it in so long. "Qui es-tu?" This weirdo would certainly not receive any formality on her part.
The man reacted without a second's hesitation. He threw a hand across his forehead, closed his eyes and gasped in mock hurt. His voice dropped to a whisper and he (clearly) pretended to clutch the rock for support. The French rolled effortlessly off of his tongue (the young woman tried not to notice.)
"How is it possible that there exists someone in this world who does not know of me?"
The wind chose this moment in particular to playfully tousle his hair, adding to the over-dramatization that was his introduction. He did not see the young lady roll her eyes and he most certainly did not wait for her to reply before rushing to fill the silence.
"I, who has lived for centuries, who has fought for freedom in many a ferocious battle, who is so handsome that I even have God on my side! How, how can you possibly say that you have not heard of me, the one and only La République Française?"
He paused to wipe a fake tear from the corner of his eye and blinked at her as if expecting her to fall to her knees and kiss his feet. She was above that, of course.
"Who is God," she inquired curiously.
This did not seem to be what France expected her to do. His eyes dimmed for a second and just as the young woman began to feel victorious, they lit up again and he began to speak.
"Ah~! Mais, bien sûr! You are new, fresh and young – how could you possibly know anything?"
Ouch. (More than you think, thank you very much!)
"I'm surprised you're not running in absolute terror from my men. I can understand of course why you aren't running from me. Who would run from me, I ask?" His eyebrows waggled rather (charmingly) distractingly.
I'm sorely tempted.
"Now. You know who I am, thank goodness for that. But more importantly…"
For the first time in their discussion, France's face grew serious and his voice softened.
"Who are you?"
The young woman opened her mouth to answer and realized exactly what she was admitting.
"I don't know."
AN - LOL I LOVE THIS CHAPTER! So much fun to write. Mmmm'kay so now we have France. Indeed. Translations!
Je n'ai su pas! C'é tait une roche stupide = I didn't see! It was a stupid rock.
Con! Leves-toi! = Stupid ('effing', if one wishes to be vulger) idiot! Get up!
Je sais que vous êtes là. Viens ici s'il vous plaît. Je veux voir ton visage. = I know that you're here. Come here please. I want to see your face. Maintenant, mon chèr... = Now my dear (masculin) Ma chère... = my dear (feminine)
Et très belle, aussi... = And also very beautiful...
Arêtes! = Stop!
Qui es-tu = Who are you (informal)
Mais, bien sûr... = But, of course...
Footnote: This chapter portays the French voyage of November, 1742 - this first to these islands. Details will come in the next chapter. :)
I think it would have been a lovely challenge to write all the dialogue in French! (Practice makes perfect! *shot'd) But, no. English will have to do for now. :) Bear with the smatterings of French please. *Hearts hearts hearts* Hope you enjoyed!
ALSO! Y'know how Japan just KNEW how to speak at a young age? Well, I'm incorporating that with Seychelles, here. :)