Character meme

[pegkerr]

Gacked from bookshop, and this is really a great one:

Leave a list of fictional characters in your journal that you would love to get a message from. It is your friend-list's mission, should they choose to accept it, to write you an in-character "letter" from a character on that list. Then they post their own list in their journal and the process continues!

1. Lord Miles Naismith Vorkosigan (Lois McMaster Bujold)
2. Lady Ekaterin Vorkosigan (Lois McMaster Bujold)
3. Lord Ivan Vorpatril (Lois McMaster Bujold)
4. Anne Elliot (Jane Austen's Persuasion)
5. Sophy Stanton-Lacy from Georgette Heyer's The Grand Sophy
6. Janet from pameladean's Tam Lin
7. The Phouka from coffeeem's War for the Oaks
8. Uriah Heep from Dicken's David Copperfield
9. Elinor Dashwood (Jane Austen's Sense and Sensibility)
10. Marianne Dashwood (Jane Austen's Sense and Sensibility)
11. Elizabeth Bennet (Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice)
12. Samwise Gamgee
11. Frodo Baggins
12. Merry Brandybuck
13. Pippin Took
14. Gandalf the Grey
15. Lucy Pevensie from the Narnia books
16. Anne Shirley (Anne of Green Gables)
17. Bertie Wooster
18. lupercus (from nocturne_alley)
19. potions_master (from nocturne_alley)
20. Richard Sharpe
21. The favorite fictional character of all of you.

Comments

[callunav.livejournal.com]

Dear Ms. Kerr,

I don't know if you can imagine my feelings when I read your list of people you wanted letters from and my name was right there on the list, in between all sorts of important names, or rather, names of important people. It's a very surprising thing to be named by someone in a list of important people, Ms. Kerr. Maybe you wouldn't find it surprising, because you are important yourself, but just imagine if you were an orphan from Nova Scotia and someone said they wanted a letter from you. I'm sure you must be able to imagine it, even if you're not an orphan or from Nova Scotia, because you write fairy stories, so I know you have the very best kind of imagination.

I've wanted to talk to you for ever so long, but I haven't wanted to intrude. Sometimes it's hard to know when one is intruding, isn't it? It seems like it wouldn't be, but it is, because sometimes people don't like to tell you. It comes of being polite, I think, and I do like politeness, it's only that sometimes confusion comes roaring in its wake.

Isn't the image of confusion roaring in something's wake lovely? I don't think I made it up. I think I read it somewhere. I would love to think I made it up, but Miss Stacy says I must learn to have more respect for facts, and the fact in this case is that I think I read it somewhere. But I like it so much that it's almost like I made it up, isn't it?

Marilla says I will talk your ear off if I keep this up, but I don't see how I can because I am not talking, I'm writing, and you're not listening, you're reading, and no one ever says someone will write someone else's eyes off. That would be a dreadful image, anyhow.

However, I suppose this is not a proper kind of letter, and I should hate to have you feeling sorry you invited me to write to you. Besides, I want to be a credit to Marilla and Matthew and show the benefit of my upbringing. I'll start again and talk about weather and affairs of the home.

[callunav.livejournal.com]

Dear Ms. Kerr,

Thank you very much for inviting me to write to you. It is extravagantly kind of you, and I feel grateful all the way to my bones.

It is very chilly here, today, and there is rather a lot of snow, but the sun came out about halfway through the afternoon as though it wanted to say it had only been joking about all the winds and clouds, and wouldn't we forgive it and play with it again? So I went outside and climbed in the trees even though they were very snowy. Marilla scolded me for getting soaking wet, but I felt it would be rude to scorn such a graceful apology on the sun's part. Don't you think so?

This morning, Marilla opened a jar of Mrs. Lynde's preserved peaches. They smelled divine, but they were so beautiful I didn't want to eat them at first. However, Marilla said this was nonsense and that Mrs. Lynde would be offended if I didn't eat them, and of course I would rather be tortured excruciatingly than offend Mrs. Lynde, so eat them I did. It wasn't actually a hardship, because they were extremely good. It's always so nice when fulfilling an obligation is pleasant, isn't it? It happens so rarely, I like to point it out so that I'll be sure to remember.

I hope you and your family are well, and that you have pleasant weather. I would be enraptured if it were ever possible for us to meet, but unfortunately I think that fate will not be mine. I won't think about this for very long if you don't mind, because it makes me unhappy, not in a romantically tragic kind of way but with a very pragmatic kind of unhappiness which is very hard to get pleasure from, although of course I do try.

I think I'll pretend that we are only separated for a short time, and that someday soon we will meet. Perhaps I may be walking down a path and there will be a bridge across a stream, and on the far side of the bridge there will be a beautiful lady with a tall, shining girl on either side, and I'll get closer and closer, thinking that I must be imagining things, and finally I'll be right there and it will truly be you and your daughters, laughing at me for having taken so long to believe you are real.

Won't that be nice?

Let's both pretend it. It's so much nicer than being lonesome, don't you think? I don't need to wonder if we would be kindred spirits. I already know it intimately.

Until that time I beg to remain,

your obedient servant,

Anne Shirley

(Diana says all the perfectly elegant letters her grandfather wrote to her grandmother ended that way, except with his name, of course, not hers.)

[naomikritzer]

You capture her voice perfectly. ::applauds::

[callunav.livejournal.com]

Oh! Gosh. Thank you.

It was fun. :)

[dichroic.livejournal.com]

Lovely. (I identified this one inside the first paragraph.)