Oh, my dear! I am most touched. ;)

And I feel I must add that regardless of my appreciation for Zelda's considerable charms, and those of the other Undead ladies amongst us... my heart, and, well... all the rest of me, is yours, my love.

Which is not to say that I have any objection to you forming other, er... friendships, my dear. Your freedom ( Read more... )

It is snowing here suddenly, of all things! My typist is horrified - and says that she blames me for this, since I was complaining yesterday that her country does not have proper weather...

*laughs, and goes back to staring out of the window in considerable surprise*

*stares*

It seems that I was wrong - I do have a monument of some sort.

omg, Sophie. *sniffs* I miss you.

The young girl who types for me picked up a newspaper a few days ago, and upon opening it was greatly amused to see a lengthy feature on a certain nineteenth-century author, with a large colour illustration, and the title "Charlotte Brontë: filthy minx?"

I must confess, my first thought was to wonder what my new acquaintance my_angria would make of it... ;

Really. While it's quite understandable that I should occasionally be taken for a Frenchman, four times in two days is a little much. *quietly changes the journal's "name" field, and hopes that will help.*

How interesting; I have no statues or monuments, but it seems I inspired a ghost story. Well, there are worse legacies...

Following his abortive attempt to save Marie Antoinette, Fersen remained a slave to her memory; he is reputed to have become a moody and abstracted man, brave and reckless beyond belief, his token a broad gold ring given ( Read more... )

I was not destined to be happy like other men. Life will always deny me both luck and happiness.
- Axel's journal, circa 1784

Pessimistic, but I suppose I was right. Life never did go well.

Then... let us see about death.