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

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.

'Sensitive' is not a thing I hope you take away from reading my background.

[ The wine is rolled about in his glass before further sipped from, with leisured appreciation for something that doesn't come from the blasted cafeteria. This mental comparison puts him back into context - he did not come here to be social and exchange niceties, for all that his surroundings hark back to days when that was his career. ]

I believe I have touched on all I require from you, Marquis. Did you have questions for me in return, or is the Admiral's literature on the topic quite sufficient?

I'm already aware you find the lavatories detestable -- all Inmates do. I'm curious to hear your other observations or questions about this pl--

[The Marquis gently switches his goblet to his other hand and stares at the original, perplexed. He draws in a slow, labored breath, surprised to find it feels rather tight in the chest area. Not painful, but still a sudden change]

Pardon me.

Edited 2011-10-16 15:08 (UTC)

Of course.

[ A hooded glance from the hand the Marquis observes for himself, seeing nothing visibly wrong, then to his face. Seeking out weakness over portraying concern is more Lucius' natural inclination, but he writes a mark of the latter between his eyebrows as appropriate. ] You seem unwell.

[The Marquis shakes his head.]

Not at all. My final glass of wine for the evening, I think. But yes. [Once again attentive.] Your observations? Questions?

[ Lucius finishes his wine during the Marquis' response, seeing no reason to pursue query any further beyond taking note of it. The goblet is set down, wth a sort of subtle gesture around his fingers to indicate he desires no refill. ]

Monsieur Snape had answered many of my questions, including those I did not know to ask, upon my first arrival. Back when I thought it a wise course of action to request my attorneys. [ Naturally, he'd have more than one, although there hadn't been enough wizard lawyers in the world to prevent Azkaban this time.

He pauses, and is careful, then, not to look too earnest as he asks; ] I was informed of the possibility that one can communicate outside the Barge, on occasion. Does this hold truth?

And as for what I observe... I observe many people playing by rules I hold little respect for. As I told Severus, this place offends me.

Once in a while, people from...outside, just seem to appear over the journals. We have no control over who it will be but once it starts to happen, we have many denizens who post their messages, hoping they pierce the ether.

[He hazards a guess despite his physical discomfort]

I know you may wish to contact your family, or to have some assurance that they are safe, and I have no definite answers to give you. Your graduation could very well decide that, or it may have no bearing whatsoever -- and by that, I mean it is very likely that they are and shall remain perfectly safe no matter what you do. However, if you do not graduate then they will be perfectly safe without you.

Edited 2011-10-17 03:02 (UTC)

[ Interesting, then, that the Marquis has read his file, and chooses this guess over another; that he'd want to get in touch with the Dark Lord for rescue. Not that Lucius is that stupid (Bellatrix), but perhaps an expectation of any marked Death Eater.

Reading his own file could prove interesting, vanity aside.

But he does seem to know he desires not to discuss his personal life regardless, resting his hands on either arm of his seat and levering himself to stand. ]

As I said, we have discussed everything I desired to discuss. I shall leave you to your assumptions. Should I send for a healer? [ Blithely unconvinced. ]

Edited 2011-10-17 09:16 (UTC)

You seem to be operating under the assumption that I was finished, Lucius. I am not.

[The Marquis sets his goblet down.]

You mentioned persons playing by rules you do not respect, and that this place offends you. Elaborate.

[ A flash of visible and chilly aggravation that dismissal does not take effect the way he wants it to. Lucius stands still for a few measured seconds, before sitting back down. There are things he wanted, and thus, came here to request.

He can allow the conversation to run for the sake of this. ]

It is a ship run by a wizard of immeasurable power that wields magic like a Muggle discovering how to use a wand, and I daresay he wields moral justice in much the same way. I'm being held here for my successes, not my failures.

And tales of these ports and floods sound most undignified.

[The Marquis considers a moment.] You have made several valid points, so allow me to address each:

The floods can be; at their best they can avail you to certain opportunities you never dreamed of having but perhaps always desired. At their worst, they will completely rob you of your identity and leave you doing things you never in your whole existence wished to do. They are not intentional. This ship moves between worlds and sometimes it brushes too close. Parts of that reality, for a time, taint everything on the ship. Sometimes, in the case of what we refer to as a hull breach, it does severe damage, and it takes longer for the Barge to repair herself.

As for the ports -- the object is for you to experience. You are here to change, not to be changed. It is not for us to simply say "you must not do this" or "you must do that". A person's view of the world around them, their morals, their ethics, only develop because of their personal experiences. When we put into port it is often with a mission in mind, designed to expose you to new experiences that you would have missed altogether, having died, or perhaps even in life. Sometimes these are not entirely trying, either. For instance, if we put into a proper urban setting, think not for even a moment that we will be doing anything aside from spending a ridiculous amount of money. When there is an opportunity to relax and stretch one's legs, use it wisely.

You have actually come here at an unusual time, and the current state of the Barge is quite abnormal. The Admiral is actually quite succinct in his use of power; some would say it is the ability to properly helm the ship that he lacks. However, this is mere speculation; the barge moves through something quite a bit more dense than water. It is possible that no one could do any better. As for the Admiral's sense of moral justice, I think it is safer to say he has none, or rather his position does not allow him to make use of it. I have been given no indication in the years that I've been here, in the few times I have met him, that he has any power over who goes or who stays. He most certainly did not decide that you were an Inmate. Whatever powers reside over the fate of the soul in your own world can be blamed for that, if someone must be blamed. The Admiral merely takes care of the legwork on this particular ship.

Edited 2011-10-17 11:33 (UTC)

[ The idea that the Admiral is not to blame is counter to Lucius' assumptions, chin lifting, guarded and listening with his fingers knit back together. ]

There is no final authority to contradict you, Marquis. I will have to accept your opinion for what it is and see for myself, now won't I?

Tell me, do you believe the actions that led to my being here before my death justify my presence on the Barge? Am I, for the things I have done, that you have read about, in dire need of redemption?

[ His tone is dry, but he's curbed 'caustic'. ]

Dearheart, I am not the church. It is not my duty nor my calling to look upon a person and assume they have some inherent flaw that I must fix. I am too flawed a man, myself.

You are not an Inmate because the powers -- call them God, nature, the Fates; whatever tickles your fancy -- decided you must be rehabilitated; had the Barge not intervened you would be resigned to whatever fate awaits any person who has lived as you lived. A former Warden put it perhaps a little sentimentally, but I find it quite fitting: You are an Inmate because someone that mattered to you would have wanted you to have a second chance.

Do I think you have done deplorable things? Yes. If ever a life was lost because of a decision that you made or upheld, whether it occurred by your own hand or not, then you did not die with a life clean of fault. This includes chosen alliances and the power you have handed people to do harm -- which has in turn opened the rest of your family to the same existence, your child included.

[ A small, dismissive headshake at sentimentality, as well as to correct himself-- but he doesn't quite make it there, going silent at this last part in steely defense and offense both. ]

Speak to me as a father yourself all you like, lay whatever ground rules you choose, but I care not to have you cast judgment--

My family is not for us to discuss.

That's not your choice to make. The end of your file does include information that your son has been drafted to kill for the cause. You cannot claim this is without your influence, intended or not.

181

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

Spam

Spam

Spam