impure_tale

I preferred last Halloween, and I look forward to returning to the CES with Renate and not having to worry about cleaning ash out of my suits. I have the strong impression that more was going on than the garden variety holiday silliness, and I feel compelled to thank everyone involved in getting this ship back to normal -- not only the Admiral but everyone that made an effort to clear all of this putridness away, Wardens and Inmates alike.

I would also make an effort to more eloquently criticize those Inmates that accepted a 'deal' with the new Admiral if I had the knowledge and the will to do so. I have no idea what he offered you and have only secondhand information. The only course for me is to tell myself that you were all very desperate for whatever it was. Otherwise I would have to question the intelligence of any person that could look at the state of the Barge at that time and feel confident to seek any sort of reward from its engineer.

On that subject, I suppose it is now time to address the behavior of my Inmate, and at this point I will even go so far as to pray he has had the opportunity to learn what stitches are since his visit to the infirmary. A blade in the back is a terrible thing to endure, but what have we to fear when we're just as easily mended as a torn piece of cloth?

This may sound as though I am mocking your pain when really I am doing precisely that. You were going to kill me, as you recall, and I warned you about what would happen if I saw that wand drawn as a weapon. What's worse, you did it not because I was any particular threat to you, but because Madame Lestrange had made a deal with the false Admiral and you were hoping to reap some of the benefits after a bit of dogging on her part. You need to pick better friends, and not ones so beyond the control of their own emotions that they tend to dance about as though they need to urinate when they've been left idle for too long.

I do not condone the behavior of the individual that attacked you even though I must credit her with my lack of 'death toll'.

(and would ask that the keeper of the very young and very deadly little girl in question corral her and confiscate her weapons immediately)

Your punishment -- yes, you're still getting one -- comes in three parts. First, your magic will be reduced to a level that I feel is appropriate, given your recent behavior. Copping to pressures by your peers is schoolyard idiocy and your effectiveness with a wand will now reflect that. Second, for the next month, you will be rising at 4 am for custodial duties in the public lavatory, and I encourage everyone to enjoy seconds and thirds at dinner and dessert. Third, you will be joining the kitchen staff until further notice.

[Private to the Admiral]

From now on Lucius Malfoy's wand is to only have the capabilities of standard 'First Year' spellwork.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

There will be no negotiations, Lucius. But perhaps if you take to your duties with minimal whining I might shorten your sentence. In the meantime, you are resting, and in the longrun, you're going to learn to make yourself useful.

And on the subject of your loyalties: You're dead. To Voldemort, you've officially given everything even an insane person could expect you to give, including your child. Don't dishonor yourself further by offering him your soul as well.

We shall return to this subject when I am whole.

And if you've true and honest news of my son, I would know more. If I discover you are lying, then there are no limitations you can place on me that would protect you.

I would also ask you do not make public your response.

[Because he would sooner speak with him in person than privately message him, he appears not long after, pulls up a stool, and sits next to him in the infirmary.]

I have never lied to you, Lucius.

[ Conversation is better than using these devices, but Lucius doesn't have to be happy to see the man he attempted to murder. Misery and self-pity is worn on the outside. ]

A liar would say the same thing.

[ Not actually super insistent, but. It's true. ]

[He rolls his eyes.]

Your son will have boasted before the ears of the wrong persons about his prowess with a wand, most likely to stem the shame of having a father in prison. It will reach Voldemort, who will call on him to make as good as his word or die trying.

[ Almost interrupting; ]

And he has been marked?

Edited 2011-11-04 00:55 (UTC)

I think he has. It will be some time before I know more.

[ A beat, then; ]

Seeing as you continue to make a point of the subject, I shall say this; it was never my intent for Draco to inherit this war. I would appreciate it if you did not assume otherwise.

Edited 2011-11-04 01:04 (UTC)

[He speaks gently]

Your intention matters not. You enabled this. You've talked up the importance of your pureblooded heritage, I'm sure. Perhaps even spoken in hushed tones about the war, about the noble quest which all eaters of the dead take upon their shoulders, the wonderful things this promises for you, your children, your children's children. Witches and Wizards of pure birth taking their true places in the world. That's what you and your fathers and mothers were promised. But your parents probably never told you what Voldemort can be like when he's angry, or what it's like to kiss a grown man's feet as a form of apology. And I'm sure you never told your son about that.

[ He listens, silent, and there are enough words in there to take affect for all that his expression remains hard. After another pause, he says; ] I do not consider myself exempt from responsibility.

[ Small grimace, manifest of random twinge of pain. His head rests back, attention aimed bleakly forward. ]

We disagree on its form and shape.

[The Marquis leans close.]

I know that you never wanted him involved in this. But he is, and I promise you Voldemort does not care whether he lives or dies. He will not protect your family. With you gone he'll bleed them dry. You know he will if it suits his purposes.

[ And it would be foolish to argue with that. Shies away slightly at lean in, but then winds up meeting Marquis' gaze flatly at a midpoint in his own words; ]

And so you at least understand my determination to return.

And you will, but it must be for the right reasons.

[ The beginnings of argument begin to curl his mouth, but the words don't surface. Lucius doesn't take losing very well and the will to debate has fairly flown away.

So. No response. He studies where needles had marked his arm instead. ]

[He takes this as his cue to wind this down and leave him alone.]

Your punishment still stands, but let me put it to you this way: No one here will torture you without consequence. You can ask Iago what happens then. No one may force you to beg, to lower yourself, to be any less than a man. If you are harmed, I will protect you. If you are wronged, I will defend you. If you are humiliated I will help you to elevate yourself beyond that.

[He rises and returns the stool to where it was before]

And if you emerge from this ordeal feeling that menial labor is truly the most embarrassing, demeaning thing that you have ever endured? Then there truly is nothing that Voldemort can do to you that can bring you lower, and I'll have considered my time not wasted. Do you see?

Edited 2011-11-04 02:28 (UTC)

[ It isn't as bad as being on trial, at that. But all the same; deadly certain he will be doing no such thing, but there is time between now and healing enough to walk. The question, rhetorical or not, receives glib answer; ]

If I squint.

[ And the rest of the sentiment is predictably and pridefully ignored, for all that he didn't miss that the Marquis immediately protected him from Arya. ]

You're stronger than you think you are, even without your shields. Cleaning supplies and potato mash?

[He quirks an eyebrow]

Don't let those be the things that defeat you. Sleep on it.

[He walks out]

185

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text. prrrivate.

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