impure_tale

Entry tags:

181

Do you know I never fancied ships in my youth? I had in my delusions, as a prisoner given to an obsession with numbers, once predicted that the letters I was receiving included secret 'signals' that I would be exiled to Barbados the following fortnight. This sent me into such a passion that I wrote probably some of the most unkind letters to my wife that I had ever penned -- not of course because I loathed sunshine, just the seas and all vessels that floated upon them.

I'm tempted to suggest this one does not count. Perhaps it is the absence of any real water.

Lucius Malfoy, I am making quick work of your file. I expect that we should meet very soon, but until I have committed this information to memory, we shall have to settle for conversation here. Have you any pressing quesetions?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[The Marquis chuckles as he sits back, rolling the goblet slightly in his hand before taking another taste of the wine.]

First things first, Monsieur Malfoy: That is the last time you will attempt to lecture me about my place with regards to your affairs.

[ Stare turns steely, a sneer beginning to form, but Lucius otherwise schools his expression into neutrality. ]

Well, I shouldn't like to repeat myself anyway.

A quality we both share. Moving onward, you will not tell me you are entitled to a wand, no questions asked. Your wand was taken from you when you were arrested, was it not? That would suggest to me that your government sees equal justice in withholding magic from its citizens who prove they use it for ill means. I will be no different. If you use your magic to harm or coerce other people on this ship, myself included -- if your wand is used as a weapon, specifically -- then you will have no wand.

[ Lucius directs his attention away from the Marquis to level glower to some other corner, but he is listening, nursing goblet of wine. By the time it is his turn to speak, he's gotten impulse under control.

Mostly. His voice is still like ice. ]

I can agree to those terms.

'Best behavior' is just as it sounds. Your wand is not a weapon, firstly, and as with all other Inmates aboard this ship, you are expected to hold down an occupation. There are several from which to choose, and believe me when I say that the more you have to distract you, the better off you will be. The object in being here is experience, after all.

Hm.

Marquis, forgive me if I am incorrect, but I would expect that you were once an inmate yourself. Pray tell, what work did you experience? We are both men of...

[ small, delicate pause ]

...relatively noble bearing. Call me curious as to what work the Barge provides for men such as ourselves.

You're quite right to ask, cherub. In my time as an Inmate I worked in the library, primarily. [He shrugged.] A writer who reads less than he writes is a poor amateur, as an old friend of mine once said. In my spare time, when I did not write, I also organized and directed a play to be performed on the stage in the dining hall.

[ A look that is somehow both very flat and pointed is what the Marquis gets for endearment, but it would be conversationally awkward and petty to protest it with words, so Lucius. Listens. There is a hint of interest at the concept of working with paper and text, at least, over anything else, but his reserve is a thing of steely resolve. ]

How delightful.

I shall look into it. [ Slowly. ]

Edited 2011-10-16 01:56 (UTC)

Now, you made mention of certain 'common luxuries'.

[ Longer sip of wine, as if that were reminder of it. ]

Wardens, I take it, have the power to request things, and Inmates do not. You indicated you'd request better accommodations and that should take care of my more immediate needs. I was more interested in your future willingness to provide.

I understand that depends on my behaviour. [ Tone is dry. ] I suppose too much to ask would be access to my wine cellar and dressing room, but more privacy than these communal shower facilities can provide would be much appreciated.

Parchment, quills and ink would suffice for now.

I will see what I can do. [Of course he was an Inmate back when any form of book or journal served as a means of communication, so his access to quills and ink was needed. To consider whether such a thing is necessary now, when it has been such an intrinsic part of his life on the Barge, feels strange.] The journal devices, however unconventional, will have to suffice for the time being. [He finishes his glass but chooses to wait before pouring himself another.] You may expect for me to make suggested changes and requests of you time and again. It is my duty to structure your life here in a fashion that will aid with your rehabilitation, based upon what conclusions I choose to draw from your file and in our interactions.

[ Lucius finishes his wine in turn and sets it down, not going for the decanter either. Fingers lace together as if unsure what else to do with themselves. There is a lot he desires to argue about. He considers now not to be the time nor the platform, at least in reaction to this. They've got nothing but time, anyway.

So he diverts. ]

Ah. My file. Pray, what did you think of it?

[A sigh, there] I am reminded much of the Revolution, actually, and I am not unsympathetic to your plight.

Is that so?

I suppose that's good news for me.

It makes you no less dead, unfortunately. [He leans forward now to refill his glass and pauses to offer him the same.] But I can remember lifting my head as the smoke cleared, seeing those that had risen to power and being most careful to say what they wished to hear in their countrymen. It must be exhausting work to make an entire life of that.

Edited 2011-10-16 04:29 (UTC)

[ A prim nod marks acceptance at more wine, leaning then to take hold of the glass. His mouth quirks into the beginnings of a smirk, the last glass having done something to relax him enough to do that much. ]

And yet, I'm so very keen to get back to it. Death notwithstanding.

My job will be to make certain you return to that life for the right reasons. [He leans forward slightly to pour more into Lucius' glass, and there's a slight twinge there, a wince. The Marquis sits back gingerly once finished and takes up his own goblet again.] Your tin god is not one of them.

[ He glances up from wine pouring to the Marquis, chasing after that wince without questioning it - studying his expression instead by the time he reaches his conclusion. Lucius' mouth curls fractionally. ]

You have not been given an easy task. A Muggle such as yourself will have little hope of grasping my situation, sympathy or no sympathy.

But do be careful about which you speak.

Something you will learn quickly, if you have not already, Lucius: There is very little that I fear, nothing that I fear enough to silence myself when integrity demands that I speak.

As one aristocrat to another, one father to another -- you must not doubt that the Admiral would have joined us if he did not believe me capable of graduating you. I have seen those of noble birth commit great wrongs and make strangers of themselves to the populations that held them up, and I have also seen the most just of them, slew by the bayonets of a mass enraged at what evils their comrades had done on their watch. I have seen others accede change, become equals and brethren, in turn preserving a mighty tradition whilst safeguarding the futures of their offspring with industry, with new blood, with conviction. I have seen still more crumble, unable to find purchase in the new world that emerges without need of them. Just as it happened in my lifetime, it has already begun to happen in yours.

It is nature, whether magic is involved or not, for things to always change. You are here to change, and to learn what you must in order to help your family survive in the new world that is to come -- one that will not rise up to coddle you if you invoke the names of your ancestors.

[ A lengthy pause, before; ]

And so I am to believe you have my best interests at heart, and not that of my enemy.

Naturally.

[He sits back]

I have graduated one Inmate since I was one myself. As with him, you have my solemn oath that you will have nothing from me but my sincerest and best informed efforts to guide you wisely, as well as my fiercest loyalty and protection.

[ That's the kind of sentiment that, Lucius finds, is best tested in time. He's said grander things with less sincerity. So his eyes flicker with acknowledgment, seated posture ever guarded, and focuses instead on; ]

Is this inmate still among us? I should like to speak to him sometime.

Indeed he is. Inquire of Iago; I'm sure he will be happy to answer your questions. Furthermore, if you are not afraid of a little light reading, I intend to have a copy of my file forwarded to you. You know my name already, and I will never be the sort that hides his past indiscretions.

I expect we would both be bitterly disappointed if you tried.

I do, in fact, enjoy reading. An indiscretion of my own I haven't felt the need to disguise since my school days.

Then I hope you've a strong stomach. My past and proclivities, both previous and now present, are not appreciated by those with a more sensitive constitution, but I am unapologetically myself, through and through.

Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam

Spam