cordova, stefan ciel

[stefan ciel cordova]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 500px; -moz-border-radius: 20px 0px 20px 0px; border-radius:20px 0px 20px 0px; padding: 10px; border: #000000 solid 2px; ] STEFAN CORDOVA . FULL NAME stefan ciel cordova . NICKNAMES stef, stefano . GENDER male . AGE 19 . BIRTHDAY february 14 . SEXUAL ORIENTATION heterosexual . GRADE senior . GROUP populars . CLIQUE royal . OCCUPATION student . CURRENT RESIDENCE penthouse . FACE CLAIM steven strait . ALIAS kev . CODE WORD admin edit - - - - DESCRIPTION good morning, stefan. i believe you know why you're here. my father enlightened me.. personally. he said something about a final assessment? my old man must think i'm disturbed, else i'd be somewhere else. let's not start with unpleasantries; your father is not to be the center of discussion in this session, but you. now, it is an extremely enthralling pleasure to be speaking to you once again. my my, how you've grown. i'd be lying if i said the same thing. ( sighs ) very well, on with the point. our session for today will be merely centered on the four aspects of your life. and, unlike the last time, i would appreciate it dearly if you were to elaborate on your terms and phrases. now, i have had students running your face all over campus, and i must say, i have had a shockingly varied mixture of.. reactions. and yet your grades are extremely high, which, i must say, is very contradictory. care to share? ..what can i say? academics offer much harder challenges than people do. and anyways, highschool life's bound to have all sorts of stories, and i think i just so happen to have many stories hidden in every crevice of this school. what can i say? i'm still the impulsive, cocky son of a gun that you met two years ago, miss pepper. ask my friends, or who's left to be called one, anyway. and that's not supposed to make me worry, is it? i am fully aware of your actions and services in this school, stefan. however, i would like to press this subject further before we jump to the next. describe your life in kimball high. i would like to think that something in you has changed, stefan. ( chuckles ) you tell me, miss pepper. i arrived here with my pride higher than the burj khalifa in dubai, and immediately landed myself in all sorts of complications, far more troubling and deeper than a freshman would've liked. my father was much more willing to spend time with me then.. anyhow, sophomore year arrived, guess they just had to take me off the dirt rag reputation and shined the burning spotlight on me. those royals recruited me, and i became execessively aggresive and infamous, pulling stunts under my father's nose. one of which, you know, failed and sent me to the point of talking to you. i'm not gonna lie-- girls were even easier to get back then, and when you have a burning reputation on your back, it becomes a simple walk through the park. from there to now, i have left a trail of broken hearts, mangled faces, and comatose-state bodies. and still i cruise my ride, with the same smile i pulled the very first day i stepped foot on these grounds. everyday, miss peper. every, single day. and from your social aspect, what have you observed from your own readings? ..my father has always been the root of all the insecurities i've had, because he's never really been there to put solid ground where he should be. so, as much as i hate admiting this, i guess a part of why i'm the way i am -cocky, blunt, daredevil, care-free, troublemaker, player- is because of him. i'm not gonna lie, i do wish that sometimes i wasn't.. me, but then again. why wouldn't i want to be me right now? hell to the universe and everyone else who conspires against me. i don't have time to bother with their pettiness. but i'll tell you right now, the only thing that's been my constant bothersome thought, is why, nowadays, girls seem to get dumber by each day they wake to. hn, don't get me wrong, there are some pretty sick girls here, but the majority of them are.. insanely easily to manipulate. that's one thing you should take note of, doc. ( clears throat ) duly noted. now i see why the majority of the interviews ended with tears.. if i may, stefan, was there ever a girl who was a potential to be ready to keep your heart? just out of curiousity, because i am still deliberating on whether or not i should have every one of them come up here and unload on you. ( raises eyebrows ) stepped on a nerve. duly noted. well.. let me-- nope. there was none. ( sighs ) you did warn me that you didn't even have a heart, stefan. oh yes, i remember the last time we talked. you also said that you'd be more comfortable to talk about your family now, remember? your father wanted to at least have the knowledge that you were at least comfortable about your past, but you remained quiet for the rest of the hour after that. however, you did promise me a more in-depth talk, and we have all day. ..i was born in italy, but my father was constantly moving, so i never really had a stable country to call home. the only place i settled my firm feet on was scotland, because i stayed there for four years. because of that, my parents gave their best not to have me feel as though my life couldn't make a permanent mark on one place, so they gave me themselves. for the most important and vital part of childhood phase, i was extremely co-dependent. and then, out of nowehere, the rug gets pulled under me, taking along with it my mom. dad won me full custody, and i never had the priviledge to question anything that made me spiral to the deepest part of my sanity, because he never took time to care for me since then. i guess i inherited his self-willingness and incredibly unmovable pride, that i started to teach myself how to flatter, charm, smooth-talk, fight, drift, drag, surf, and to restrain the tears that threaten to show when the sinking feeling gets too heavy in my chest. my father occupied himself with his work and people, and i occupied myself with staring out the airplane window for hours, riding horses as far along the coast as i possibly can, and swim to the farthest part of the ocean that i can get to.. we continued our travels to greece, pakistan, dubai, morocco, prague and then finally settled with a classy penthouse here in oregon. that was when i was 16, and i must say, people here are very easily won over when it comes to international, extremely cocky bastards. having been constantly surrounded by a ray of different people, i can honestly say it wasn't too hard of a job to mingle with everyone in this place, especially my dads colleagues and friends. no.. my life was hardly a happy one, but i certainly made it through to this point, right? i never questioned my father's words, because there were so rare few of them. i would be lying if i denied that a part of me was rebelling to the point of near insanity because i wanted him to at least acknowledge me.. shout at me, beat me up, get me straight, anything to get him talking to me, but the major part of me wasn't much into the idea of being stuck in depression with the guy. if there was anything that he taught me, it's to never ever get anyone close to you, because at the end, the person who you can really rely on, is yourself. ..and your mother? my mother decided to finally contact me a year ago. we met up in france, enjoyed a week staying with her and my adopted sister, blanca. my father didn't mind. ..stefan, do you still trust? well, apparently, seeing as i'm still talking to you. but nahh, doc. the most i can give anyone is a partial bit of trust, and even that gets easily wasted on. not my fault that people these days trip for anything beneficial for themselves. ( frowns ) you are your father's boy after all. mannerism, etiquette, charm, disarming smile-- ( narrows eyes ) i'm nothing like my father, miss pepper. when i have a son, rest assured that little son of a gun will have me by his side for as long as he needs me. and that in itself, is a pretty tall order for the man i call my father. now, may i take a rain check? i have this thing called requirements. mr. cordova wanted-- ( stands, arms outwide ) tell him that if he ever wants to talk to me, i'm always free.

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- - - - THE WRITER ( KEV )


. sample

fuckin' hell, he muttered behind gritted teeth, eyes shutting tightly for a second, before opening to reveal himself to their living room, throwing his bag to the nearest sofa before heading to the mini-bar, where his hands reached for an empty glass and a bottle of brandy. taking a seat on one of the stools, he poured himself to near brim, before downing it all in one gulp. the second time around, he reached for a couple of ice cubes, and repeated the same process, only this time he didn't chug the whole glass down. taking a sip, he rubbed his eyes as he settled the glass down, a heavy sigh accompanying his move.

rain. stupid, bloody rain. waking on the wrong side of the bed was all the sign he could have sufficed with, so why the hell did he decide to clamber out of bed to head to school? for the life of him, even he couldn't comprehend the way his brain worked, but the morning had gone so bad, he decided to dash classes and attempt to clear his head. which could be done, easily, within the walls of his own house. which was, fortunately, almost always empty.

what had gotten to him, jumping those men that had ganged up on the beggar in that random alley? with clenched jaws, he turned his gaze to the pouring rain, running down heavily on the glass wall. this was the area of the house he felt much more at ease, as it revealed every breath of nature in front of him. a vibrating sound echoed from within his bag, but he couldn't be bothered to even want to reach for it. he ran a hand through his wet hair, taking another sip as he thought of this new girl he had most recently hooked up with. how unfortunate that he wasn't much in the mood when it came to the first few days in a relationship.

he sighed, drumming the bar table lightly. of course he knew why he was such in a tripped mood. but why was he letting it get to him?

after all, his father never did spend his birthday with him, anyway.

. other characters

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[( DANYA )]

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