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Everett Nathaniel Belvidere [userpic]

(no subject)

March 1st, 2006 (07:21 pm)

Dearest Ingrid -

I dreamt of you last night. You were quite the pure angel that I am used to seeing you as. Yet you were so elusive, you would not let me touch you. You disappeared from my hands in a flurry of petals and flowers.

You showed me an image of myself standing over your dead body. It could not possibly have been me. I am still trying to figure out the underlying symbolism in that, whether it is literal death, or a spiritual death.

I could never kill you. I could and would kill anything else, but never you. I would eliminate the whole world, but I must share it with you.

As far as the rest of my life, classes are uneventful. Just assignment after assignment. Repeating the boring doldrums of my daily life that is this hellhole.

I will be out of here soon.

-Your Everett

Everett Nathaniel Belvidere [userpic]

(no subject)

February 13th, 2006 (06:33 pm)

Dearest Ingrid,

My darling, you would be rather ashamed of me today. I got into a row with one of the boys. While my intentions were far less than honourable, I did indeed fight a young man. Do you recall the Yorke boy that I told you of, well, he and I got into a physical altercation. One of my own men had the nerve to punch me, and then the Yorke boy got one hit to my nose, yet I got the last laugh. I hit Yorke in the stomach and he was unable to stand.

I did this because he found out that Adrian, his elder brother, was killed. He cried and cried like a young girl, but if anyone is going to associate with me, then they must be able to maintain some sort of masculinity. I don't deal with effeminate young men, especially not one who cries on the very mention of death.

So, Ada Valentine, the history teacher, eventually interfered and sent me into a room with her. She's quite the dishonest one - she gives me such standard answers when I ask her a simple, closed question, yet she still insists on being dishonest with me. I'll deal with her and the young Moriarti boy who hit me later.

After the confrontation, I went to the turrets to smoke a cigar. The younger Everett twin, Ashley, had enough nerve to approach me asking what my reason was for chastising James. I told him the truth, and he continued on a tirade about how society would never accept me.

Have I ever been the person to care about society accepting me or not? Depending on acceptance makes people weak and fickle. Society is full of fools and social climbers, and, compared to the 'new money' Americans, the British nobility is practically impoverished.

It is terribly entertaining, my love.

-Your Everett.

Everett Nathaniel Belvidere [userpic]

(no subject)

February 13th, 2006 (10:38 am)

Dearest Ingrid,

So, as prefect, I have my own room. I enjoy the spacious arrangements, and I hope to control these boys very well.

At our first dinner, the Yorke boy came up to me and bragged about his money. We then heard an announcement about having a ball with St. Sophronia's School for Girls. A ball with giggling, overly-naive girls. I could easily take advantage of a good whole of them, but I truly hope that they aren't all dumb. I wish that you could be there.

After the words of a "ball," I went outside a few days after. I saw your image, and it caressed my cheek. Your absence is disheartening, and your spirit haunts me nightly and daily. I remain obsessed with you. All of this weighs so heavily on me that I had to let it out. And it came out very much.

And then the Yorke boy came. What a funny little upstart. Bragging about his family fortune, yet he is such a funny little man.

-Your Everett.

Everett Nathaniel Belvidere [userpic]

(no subject)

February 8th, 2006 (03:39 am)

Dearest Ingrid,

Today, I have arrived at Chesterfield's. There are a few new faces, but not very many. I did not stop to greet these foolish boys, I went to my business. My slaves are currently putting away my things. I hope that they put my things away and then be gone. I don't want to see them. I only want one personal servant here, and even then I wish for the fool to leave me be.

This year, I am prefect. I am to be the one that shall lead these boys. Do believe that I shall control them with a fist of iron. Power is my forte. However, there are far too many independent people here.

Today, I met the most queer little boy. He's a Yorke. I do believe that he is Adrian's younger brother. Anyway, it seems as if he has taken a strange liking to me. Why, I have no clue. However, I told him the truth about his brother's pairing with that St. John twit, and it seems as if I offended him. But never mind the fact that he feels stupidly superior for no apparent reason.

I have your picture on my desk. I hope to see you one day. I miss you so much, my flower.

-Your Everett.

Everett Nathaniel Belvidere [userpic]

(no subject)

February 6th, 2006 (07:31 pm)

Dearest Ingrid,

My father and I got into a war of words yesterday. I am tired of going to this place. I'm 19 years old, and a man. I will never know why he is so hell-bent on me not seeing you again. I am sure it is not because of your race - he loves the Morrisons, yet it could be because I am foolishly in love with you. Still, I retain my resolve and hatred for everything else, and one day, his company will be mine.

He is far too kind on those people, and it makes me wonder why. When I take control, I'll become even harder on them. I'll keep any dark promises that I make. There shall be so many examples that the blood will run like wine.

Much like that bird I smashed with my foot the other day. It was such a beautiful thing to hear its bones crack and crumble under my power. It makes me think of what further things will come. It makes me think of my future. One of power, prestige and wealth. I will have it all, a large company, a huge home, a beautiful wife and progeny that I will raise in my ways.

-Your Everett.

Everett Nathaniel Belvidere [userpic]

(no subject)

February 3rd, 2006 (05:07 pm)

Dearest Ingrid,

This is my first entry in my first journal. The pages are crisp with golden leaf on the edges, and my pen is perfect.

I am about to begin another term at Chesterfields. The term is late, yet I am returning back here, in hopes to conform to my father's wishes. My father makes me come here, and deal with these pathetic creatures in hopes that I will continue the Belvidere legacy of exploiting those that are not fit. We are a benevolent family to these roaches on the outside, yet sometimes, they make me wish that I could shock their oblivious and pathetic little world. I will smite them one day.

But when that day comes, you will be my wife.

-Your Everett.

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