|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Sun Jul 25, 2010 6:20 am
Archer Wells was LOTUS's resident amnesiac Briton, and as an amnesiac Briton, though heavens knew he couldn't speak for all of them, he found the going to be awfully rough.
For starters, he couldn't help but feel like he had to act more dashedly British than he felt. He couldn't remember what the epitome of a British man was supposed to be like, so that meant scouring the libraries and memorizing more gentlemens' ettiquette books than most men had ever even glanced at. For some reason, be it a hangup from his past life, or just the need to feel like he had an identity again, he had to check all his facts meticulously, make sure everything he did was just so. Sometimes he couldn't even sleep at night until he knew that everything was as perfect as he could make it.
At times, nothing was more satisfying to him than this obsessive attempt to hold himself up to some lofty, mysterious standard, but at LOTUS it could get exhausting. Not only did he have to be a gentleman, but also an agent, which required training of both physical and mental natures.
He was participating in the mental side right now, hunkering in the garden and attempting to identify any useful plants without getting his suit dirty. He teetered precariously over a bed of flowers, garden book in one hand, magnifying glass in the other, muttering to himself. Archer was completely absorbed in his studies.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Jul 31, 2010 4:12 pm
It was strange to think of it, but Anais de Vos had spent a year in the LOTUS compound now. It had been an isolated year, although the Belgian agent couldn't blame this on any of the other LOTUS agents. They weren't unfriendly, she was certain - she'd seen a few of the others as they went about on their business and nodded greetings at them. It was just unusual, living this...lifestyle. She'd been adjusting, though.
See, Anais had spent much of her time cooped up in her room trying to teach herself to read. It was a difficult task, surely, but it was a useful skill, she was sure. She'd only barely been literate before, but it was helpful to look at books of patterns and know the advice that they were imparting upon her. True - her skills as a seamstress would do nothing for a mission. But it was a starting point. She hoped, anyway.
The thing was, reading was hard. It was a strain on her eyes - the black words against the white page sometimes seemed to come together and taunt her. The LOTUS gardens, by contrast, were always a pleasant sight for her eyes. Of course, she knew very little of gardens, but it was easy for her to pick out herbs that her mother had always used in cooking, and she smiled whenever she saw a plant that she'd used to create a weave - it was like having familiar friends to guide her. She didn't encounter people in the gardens often, but she liked to think alone.
She didn't know who the strange man in the suit bending over a bed of flowers was, though. He had to be a LOTUS agent, judging by his presence in the garden, but if she'd seen him before, it'd only been a few glimpses in the halls. She paused. Perhaps he was a botanist. Perhaps he'd be enraged if she disturbed him.
But no. She'd been waiting long enough alone, it was time to begin to socialise with someone other than that French man in the football field. She stepped up to him, tapping him on the back with a finger. "Excuse me?" she asked in Dutch. She tried again in French, just to be sure. "Excuse me?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Aug 08, 2010 12:54 pm
It took the crouching gentleman a moment to notice that his privacy was being invaded. The Dutch, he didn't notice at all, to Archer it was nothing more than barely-intrusive babble. But as an English gentleman, Archer (reluctantly) knew a little French, and it ended up being this that made him startle and finally look around.
"...Who the dev-" Luckily, he cut off mid-curse when he noticed it was a lady, and a fairly elegant looking one at that. Archer wasn't sure of his French-speaking abilities, but he was sure that swearing in front of a lady was more than terrible, it was abhorrent. Clearing his throat, he attempted to compose himself before saying "Pardonnez moi, mademoiselle, je parle juste un peu de Français." His French was lamentable and his accent was worse, but Archer had never had a knack for languages. He was stodgy and British to the core, and coupled with his attempts to be a perfect English gentleman based on an ideal he had learned out of books, the whole effect made him seem like a rather ridiculous stereotype.
"Je m'appelle Archer Wells. Et toi? Er... Est ce que vous parlez Anglais?" he added hopefully.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Aug 08, 2010 11:42 pm
Luckily for Archer, Anais had no idea what curse the gentleman had interrupted himself during. "Je m'appelle Anais de Vos," she smiled. "No...no, ah, spoke........Anglais." Anais bobbed her head. Would that be a problem? Was she expected to know English? She fiddled with her sleeve nervously. She knew maybe a few words here and there, and most of them, admittedly, were related to sewing. "My French is not especially good, either," she admitted in French. She hadn't used the language in daily conversation, but she'd studied it for so long that she could hold a conversation in it, if the wording was a little stiff.
The blonde tilted her head gently to the side, raising her hand to her mouth. "Are you a botanist?" she continued, also in French, hoping he wasn't offended by her lack of English-speaking skills. His French seemed better than her English, or so it seemed to her.
[ooc; i'll, uh...italicize any future french? 8D ;; /knows just a tiny bit]
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
