Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia but my OCs and the plot.
A/N: The underlined words are Alice-Elizabeth completely while the italics are her writing in her journal.
Journal entry #1
Day 1: arrival into the pits of hell
As I sit amongst the people who have raised from since I was a child. I write to you my sisters…and brother this journal entry. A journal I must keep until I pass it on to you. At this current moment I am traveling into the city of London from my cottage. It has been ordered — suggested, as though we had a bloody choice— to spend sometime and become acquainted with our nation(s). It was not however ordered to keep this journal but a unanimous vote among our guardians—something about sharing a experiences and thus building better relations among ourselves. Bloody rubbish, is what it is. If we need better relations we should have been raised together!— and thus it was ordained. It has also come to my knowledge that we are being picked to spend "a significant and extended period of time"— In other words we are being sent to live with them until they get sick and tired with us.— with them and are being picked based on which nation ask first. As a result I was the first to be picked.
James has made a suggestion, after reading what I have written over my shoulder and breathing down my neck as though we are dependent upon him for air, that I tell you who exactly I will be staying with. I will be staying at the home of Arthur Kirkland also known as The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.
It was at this time that I cast my gaze towards the window and became aware of the fact that I was no longer within the calming boundaries of the vivid and beautiful countryside. The harsh steep buildings that lined both sides of the car made me painfully aware that I was now in the devil's house. Boxed in and confined. My heart longed for the country, for its sprawling and winding paths—James says I am becoming for too poetic. Which is utter tush if you ask me. One can never be to much of anything—not for this. Not for sprawling city scrapes and buildings as tall as the trees and much more. Then the car swung into a drive, up through giant wrought iron gates and came to a stop in front of massive house. The doors opened and as I pen this part, James is giving me a rather impressive glare. I must say it is quite the looker. His face is scrunched up just like a boar and his eyes narrowed to slits. Bloody brilliant I say!
With a manly huff James muttered a "thinks she so bloody smart" before whipping out his most charming smile and addressing the man in front of him with a "Good Afternoon gentlemen, my name is James Thompson, caretaker of Miss Alice-Elizabeth Kellman."
I sniffed, he was treating as though I was a sodding child! I had half a mind to get out of the car and rap him sharply across the head. After James poked his head back into the car, brown hair falling comically in front his face, he motioned me to move.
As a solemn result dear journal I must put you down until after dinner, where I shall write to you the affair that it was.
after dinner
It was a quiet and unbelievably tense. Mr. Kirkland was most kind as we dined alone. The island nation was courteous and tried many times to strike up conversation— what in bloody hell were we going to talk about? The advances man has made in genetic engineering or perhaps I was to list and we discuss the various ways in which he ruined my life! Bloody ridiculous if you ask me. — Which failed, horribly, Mr. Kirkland at a loss at what to do, probably because our sister is much more open. Something I see becoming a fad being open and expressive. Dear lord! I could only pray for Airsu. As politely as I possibly could I asked permission if I could explore his home. Seemingly at a loss and hoping I opened up he allowed me to do. And thus my exploration began.
The house itself was of a massive structure, with winding staircases and lofty balconies. The estate was sprawling. Several rooms each with their own little trinkets and themes, there was even one filled to the brim with medieval suits of amour and weapons. Spare bedrooms littered each floor, mine was on the middle.
My exploration of Mr. Kirkland's house came to an end just as the sun dipped behind the clouds. I bid him goodnight- he was stiff and it was awkward- before retiring to my room where I write to you my family.
Until tomorrow, Alice-Elizabeth
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