Fleur Orland | Bount

FLEUR ORLAND

While her light purple curtains match the window, that is not a natural thing. Fleur’s original haircolor is blonde, although she does often dye it to change her overall style, a must with those who lived as long as she had. Still, some things are always the same, as the visually young woman does her best to stay just like that, in any regard. Her hair is also always at least long, usually very long, with some sort of ornament in it. Aside from that, she does not give much about high maintenance things, often foregoing mascara or lipstick for a more natural look.

Her frame is somewhat lean, and with 5’8’’, she is more on the big side, at least concerning women from her home country. She does not look too muscular, but there is definitely something, although not to the extent that one would presume her a fighter. Not that it is necessary as a bount, of course. Still, her attire usually plays more towards a certain degree of frailty, as she clearly prefers light, yet formal clothes, often harking back to European fashion of centuries past. In a kind of weird combination, though, as most of the time, she prefers more male oriented formal shirts and jackets, and then combines them with modern skirts and high boots, as pants remind her too much of having to be a pretend male.





One would guess that centuries of life would make someone truly wise, but in regards to dear Fleur, that is only partially true. Sure, she is a very logical and studious person, having taken a great liking to the scientific method, ever since she had been introduced to it. But wisdom is something she lacks, as she thoroughly focuses on the state that is and derives anything from there. Bringing things to their logical conclusion is what she does, even if it means breaking those precious ethics of mortals. While not needlessly evil, she has no qualms utilizing, hurting and throwing away other conscious beings, even bounts if need be. Although she does clearly see her own kin as superior to all others by necessity, deeply believing that coexistence is only possible if everyone acknowledges this superiority. Thus, she can be pretty haughty and arrogant at times. Her Machiavellian nature usually only comes up in important situations, though, and in private, she often eases up a lot.


While not exactly the happy-go-lucky type of girl, she does value and crave company, even if it is quiet, as long as things do not get awkward. As long as formal appearances are kept, she is very much fine with being casual to anyone in private, and can even derive fun from interacting with beings of other callings. Just talking is fine, even though she often indulges in modern society’s pastimes as well, to the point where she is sometimes obsessed with certain cultural phenomenas or important people. One should never start a debate among the lines of Star Trek versus Star Wars, for example. Or call her a child. Or call her an old hag. Those things tend to end in blood and tears, sometimes sweat. Fleur also enjoys cooking a lot, putting as much effort into mastering this skill as any other.


When it comes to combat and dangerous situations, the French bount proves to be a clear example of a pragmatic. Honor means little to her, and she uses any dirty trick she can think of to win. Holding back is something she is pretty bad at, and she prefers to deal with threats permanently. Death or slavery, those are the only outcomes to fights she can think of, as everything else just leads to a repeat under worse conditions. Therefore, her conditions might be seen as cruel or unjust, but in the end, they are just logical. And that is what fighting is to her, in the end. Just the logical conclusion of words and threats not being sufficient. She does enjoy testing her mettle against others, but she gives little about the thrill of life or death battles. In fact, she quite prefers cunning strategies or others doing the dirty work for her, but there are times when even she deems it necessary. To prove a point of grave importance, or simply to protect her people and their dreams.

Family

Life. One of the great mysteries, yet one of the most prevalent things in the mortal world. It can be born into the harshest of circumstances, into war, poverty, sickness, and still prevail. Some of it, at least, just a precious few, while the rest perishes, going right back into the state of not being alive. Fleur was, from the beginning, one of those few lucky beings. Despite her time being called the renaissance, the family and circumstance she was born into had little grounds to claim being reborn or anything.

Hers was a harsh and simple life, at least during her early years, born into a peasant family, always looking up to those nobles, those royals and the things they had. It was, as a matter of fact, a very normal life for a young girl like her, at least for the first few years. But then, war and strife entered her life. While things were not as bad as in Europe’s darkest centuries, this still put a great strain onto her and her family. First, her father was drafted to fight, from which he would never return, then their taxes increased, supplies taken to support the armed forces. Her older brother left for one of the bigger cities, trying to make it big or something, in a last ditch effort to escape serfdom. Yet, two years passed without a word of success – or any word at all – and eventually, they had to sell their land, becoming slaves to some noble in all but name.


Yet, even that was something a human could bear with. Most humans who managed to stay alive, did, after all. It was not until the fighting came to her properly, that Fleur got to witness both fear and the malice of man himself. The first was her mother, out on the field. Then it came to her older sister, trying to hide them and distract the assailants. And then, death came to visit the youngest sibling, leaving Fleur the last to face a grim fate. The young woman was catatonic at first, and she would never remember just what happened before she found herself trying to run away, one of the men slightly bleeding, yet not enough to seriously impair him. The prospect of freedom was taken away from her as quickly as it had come by, and he was upon her again.


And without the gift bestowed upon her by the gods of death themselves, that would have been the end of her. Instead, she managed to summon her doll, by then little more than a formless….thing, that somehow managed to suffocate her opponent by the most direct and brutal means it had. Thus, the man died, but that was not even the most peculiar thing, no. That price went to the first soul she ever saw, just kind of being there. Looking quite tasty.

Individuality

After taking him, she felt refreshed, much more powerful. Lacking a concept or awareness of drugs, she then went on to repeat the process on the small squad that had taken their small farm, only to find herself alone with corpses all around her. Family, foes, united in death. She could distinguish them, but not really differentiate them, felt hollow at first. And then, the ball talked to her. Her doll talked to her. Helped her over that tragedy, even though it did not really know what to do either. Both of them lost, they had half a plan, knew they could not stay after spending a day labouring to dig some graves, and another one grieving, crying.


They talked, on and on, without finding a solution. The only thing the girl and her swirling mass found was an imperative, a need to just get away from that place, with the vague hope of finding her brother. She took what little she had and simply walked off, Aria becoming an armband during the journey. And they got approximately a few miles, before she faced problems again, in the form of bandits. Yet, for once she got at least a little lucky, after she was easily dispatched, even though she managed to release Aria gain. The bandits were curious, their leader intrigued, and decided to not just kill her, but take her in for a while, studying her ability.

He was her first teacher, giving her the skills to beg, steal, and stab to run; an elderly man, who, along with his men, only resorted to violence to stay alive. Fleur learned a lot just from that, but her time there came to an end, eventually, when she had the opportunity to eat yet another soul. A girl using some odd ball of what looked like mercury, talking to it, that was cute in a way. But getting off of apparently desecrating the dead, that was different. Still, she was sheltered enough to only be let off at the nearest opportunity, eventually resuming her journey.


Months later, she eventually made it to the city her brother had set off to, even managed to find him. In the worst of all states. He had failed to make money in any good way, and fallen in with the right crowd quickly. The irony of fleur having to bribe a guard in order to visit him in prison was not lost on him, although he could not really laugh; his young body riddled with disease and weakness. He died the very next night, alone in the cold. His last words had not exactly been words of wisdom “Take care of yourself and the others, I can’t anymore. Heh, I never could.” She had not told him the truth, of course, although she had a suspicion that he’d been able to read it in her face.


The following months, she spent as a beggar, keeping herself afloat with what she could make or steal, along with the occasional soul. No one came to rescue her. No stranger noticing something odd about her, no villain forcing her hand. Life just went on, and on, and on. Then winter came. The big white janitor, sweeping the streets of the poor for a few months, until the lucky ones returned. Technically, that meant more souls to take, but she could hardly subside on those alone, and it still almost killed her. Fleur, who had done nothing wrong, who even was a very special person, freezing out there, with no other company than Aria, who she kept trying to teach new tricks out of sheer boredom. Time turned this feeling of unease into resentment, and before winter could come to an end, she had already found a new plan, a new plan of action.


Once she had found that resolve, it was surprisingly easy. Find a small family, that lived reasonably well, make sure they deserved it, and then seek them out at night. Aria, creeping through cracks in the wall took care of the door, and also of the wife, killing her in her sleep. But it was clumsy, unrefined, waking the husband in the process. He did not have a real weapon, but he managed to improvise, using kitchen utensils. The old knife given to her by the old thief proved useless, and he almost bashed her head in with a frying pan, after breaking her arm. Once more, she would have died without Aria, but this time she learned much more.


After dumping the bodies in the cellar, Fleur simply lived off their supplies until winter ended, once more alone with her doll. But that was enough, at least by then. Together, they managed to stabilize Aria enough to turn into more useful forms, like weapons, although they quickly realized that she had no real clue how to use them. But everything she had experienced up until then had shown them that they needed to become stronger in order to survive, needed to improve on themselves. After all, there was no way back, especially when the authorities eventually checked up on the house, scaring her away.


That prompt was enough for her to seek out someone who could train her, which obviously was not easy for a woman in these days. She eventually followed rumors to find someone, a retired, yet reputable soldier, and did her best to disguise herself as a male. She was taken in, yet found out, although she quickly learned that even the strongest prejudice could be weakened by displaying supernatural abilities – and agreeing to do certain favors. While she did not exactly like that, she endured it, learning quickly and thoroughly for years, secretly stalking the night at times to sate her slight addiction.

But she was not found out due to that, but by her teacher, who eventually realized that she should have aged already. And for someone who was closing in on the end of his life, which was a harsh thing to face, along with her ability to quickly heal from slight wounds. So, eventually, he too tried to kill her and was disposed of – despite Fleur having grown quite fond of him in the meantime.


Still, she had learned quite a lot, and, in a way, become desensitized by things like this. Supported by Aria, she understood more and more that she was not truly human. At first, that meant being abomination to her, being a monster, an outcast. But after dispatching some low life scum trying to rob her again, once she went on to relocate once more, that view changed. Aria and her, they were no monsters. They were simply a new form of being, better than humans. If humanity did not offer her shelter, so be it. If they would try to kill her eventually, let them come. She’d spend the next few years like that, wandering around, seeking ways to improve her skills, challenging soldiers here and there, until she heard of another, intriguing rumor. “Vampires,” beings that sucked the life out of their victims, ostensibly existing in a faraway land to the east. It sounded intriguing, a lot like herself, and she began her journey through a torn Europe, eventually making it there.

Community

It was there, in Romania, that she learned that she had a people. Not many, no. Only a handful, some related to the one they called Vlad. It did not matter. For the first time in over a decade, she had found a family of sorts. People she could live with, just be herself with. Those were people with the same abilities, allowing her to learn more about her own powers and dolls, to benefit from learning in a community. Aria became stronger during that time, more versatile, but also, in a way, envious. Having been Fleur’s only support for so long, the focal point of her universe, the doll did not like to be sidelined. It especially disliked people telling the young French girl to seal her doll unless needed, something she had only done when necessary before. But in this camp, she eventually kept her sealed all the time.


The doll’s resentment and wish to be more important grew with the time spent there, along with its power. Eventually, after convincing Fleur to keep it unsealed for a while, it experimented a bit on its own, tested just how well it could change form. And one day, the doll did it, expanding enough to become humanoid, shaping herself akin to one of the other bounts. A being straight out of the uncanny valley, this appearance was much more than Fleur could handle, enough to make her not realize she could simply seal it again. On the flipside, the then blonde girl’s reaction sent Aria off in a jealous frenzy, culminating in her baldy hurting the bount whose likeliness she had taken.


For once, no one died, but this made Fleur realize one thing: she had to truly understand her doll, until she could truly be with others again, even her equals. Thus, she left camp, without a true goal, just moving east with an apologetic and almost pathetic doll in tow. It was just them again, but for the first time, that had been her decision. A forced decision maybe, but one she had made nonetheless. Together, they wandered eastwards, besting the elements, animals, and other obstacles, in search for one another and oneself. It was necessary, for she truly wanted to be with others, yet could never be, with things like this.


Yet, it took another master and a few decades of still not aging for them to find a place and a person that could help them. Their way had led them all the way to China eventually, and even though a lot of things had happened during the trek, for once the destination and not the journey, was the goal. The man she met there, in the mountains, he did not have a doll, was not like her, but he still was just as special. In fact, he had a spiritual pressure way above hers, easily subduing them, yet not killing them. Instead, he brought them to the small temple she lead, although his pupils seemed to revere him much more than the deity they were supposed to. And although she could not really understand that belief either, she could believe in that person, who forced them to not only train with things they were unfamiliar with, but also to really rest.


It was the first and only time that both bount and doll experienced a truly serene place, free of any hectic or danger. A place where the outside world simply did not exist at all. Not that she was fully free of it, of course. In fact, she learned a great many things there, about the circle of souls, how certain things worked, and how to control her addiction to eating souls. However, she did not learn humility or anything like that, far from it. After all, the only one who could teach her was an impressive being like this, clearly no longer a full human, either. It was clear they were the ones who would create a new world eventually, they existed outside the circle. What she felt was neither hate nor contempt to ordinary humans; in fact, she grew to like some of the other pupils as well. But she could not truly tell what it was what she felt, until a whole 200 years and one continent later. Leaving the temple after she had learned everything she could, after the old master died of old age, promising him to not interfere with his journey into the cycle, she had left once more, wandered, still looking for an answer that satisfied. But this was nothing a teacher could teach her. Only a foil.

Duality

Once more, it was a man who shaped her journey. Another old man, even, only this time, it was in the newest country of all, one where weapons like the sword or the staff were of no more concern, since everything was decided by guns. Fleur had come pretty close to dying to those things a few times, and quickly realized just why they were causing societies to collapse left and right, from what she heard. Anyway, the man she met was named Andrews, and he lived in Chicago. And he was the oldest bount she’d ever seen. At first, neither of them understood why, as he had been around just as long as she had, although he had gone westwards with one of the first ships to the new world, instead of taking her route.


The reason came to them eventually, when he invited her to a snack consisting of a few unhappy peasants he had caught. They both had the same kind of addiction, but unlike her, he had merrily reaped his was through multiple countries, taking a dose whenever an opportunity presented itself. That made him strong, very strong, but it also seemed to prove detrimental to his health. Still, it allowed his gargoyle like doll to become so much more impressive. The two of them begun to experiment a bit with souls, and studied the effects of consuming them, until the old man and the still young woman came to a rather jarring conclusion: it is like normal food. Eating is necessary to stay alive, fresh and powerful, but indulging in too much of it can severely shorten one’s lifespan. Well, food laced with drugs, but the same thing, really. And humans, they were cattle. Surprisingly interesting and amusing kettle, yes, but still kettle. And all the other spiritual beings were either rivals for food sources, or the spiciest of treads. Maybe both.


The very moment they reached that conclusion, both bounts knew the ramifications of this, immediately readying their dolls. The final thing they needed to test was simple, if a bount could stay young with a healthy diet, could the youth given by this be absorbed as well? Neither of them had truly seen another bount dying by that time, so it was a natural conclusion. Their fight levelled multiple abject buildings, as Aria, forced into her more condensed form, battled the gargoyle doll. And while that went on, the most ironic battle between masters took place – a sword wielding young woman against a gun-toting old man. Despite her training and experience, the disparity in power was quite evident, and she pretty much lucked out, as none of them was used to fight foes on equal footing. A piece of debris hit Andrews, downing him for the count. And due to Aria briefly restraining the other doll, her mistress was able to end a century old life – only to find that it was for naught anyway. The dead bount just disintegrated, with no soul to be found.


The utter bleakness of that event left her stunned for a while again. Faking Andrews still being alive she lived off the funds the savvier bount had amassed for a while and contemplated this, together with her doll. It was not a new information, just one she had not understood before. Existing outside the circle meant just that. Once they died, they would become nothing, never able to take Solace in this reincarnating stuff. It really took quite a while to get over this, but when she did, she had garnered a new conviction. If that was their destiny, so be it. They were not even accepted by such a fundamental law of the world, so the only thing they could do was live forever. Feast on the humans in a way that allowed them both to stay healthy and strive.

Sorority

But in order to do that, she they needed to unite. That became even more evident, when she encountered and studied her first Shinigami and Quincy, realized that some of the beasts she had thought over the years had been hollows. The Balancers, the Imbalancers, the Glitches. All of them were obstacles to their cause, some more than others. It was not only her, but her race as a whole that had to become stronger. By their very nature, they needed to stay at the pinnacle, for them to survive; they needed a certain measure of dominance. Thus she went back out into the world, but this time with structure, a plan, a vision. Gather more resources, allies, and resources to find allies, until she had found those she just knew were out there. 


During this search, she did not neglect her 'research'. One of the first bounts she found was an actual scientist, who had used different aliases over the years to support advances in multiple fields. He taught her how to be truly methodical in these things, unlike the amateurish experiments she had conducted with Andrews. Together, they even managed to catch some weaker Quincy and study them, realizing before too long how similar their races were in parts. Sure, the Imbalancers were a somewhat naturally occurring phenomenon and much older, as a race, but they were much closer together than, say. Shinigami. An obvious thing, given that they were all alive. Nevertheless, both sides specialized in manipulating and collecting Reishi, just in different forms. Those similarities allowed them some breakthroughs in bount technology, although Fleur herself mostly focused mostly on perfecting her eating habits, and searching for the others.

While she did find some to join her like this, growing more obsessed with her own country’s history as a pastime, she did not manage to find nearly enough of them, even as the millennium began to turn. She did not dare to return to that enclave she had visited back then, and only went there when she, per chance, learned of a competitor, a different organization, with much more manpower and influence, that was rounding up bounts and other aware people. Not the Vatican in all its false glory, but a human government. They even managed to find the enclave and most of its members, which put Fleur on the spot.


It forced her hand, to make one important decision.

[b]DANGAN RONPA/b] kirigiri kyouko by [i]fleur orland[/i] 

MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS