Journal of the Marquis de Sade

[Video]

Has Father Christmas come for an early visit, I wonder? 

[He shows to the camera what appears to be a rather charming, if aged and weathered china doll. The manner of dress and the styling of the hair immediately put him in mind of Iris, so he looks just a bit cheeky as he shows it. Though it has the familiar cherub face of most china dolls -- yes, when one looks at her carefully, there's still almost a familial resemblance, and the Marquis is shown to be holding her very carefully.]

Such a charming little lady. Perhaps a little out of place among my other figurines, but she looks to have a secret or two about her, oui? 

I wonder what I ought to call her? 

(ooc: Fair warning! My paid account ran out, and I'm broke. I only regularly use a FEW of the icons that are available to me now. SO if you get a lot of default icon, I promise I'm not doing it to be a jerk.)

My, ah -- apologies to anyone that I offended during that flood. I wasn't especially given to pleasantries as an Inmate and when I was it was often with an ulterior motive.

If nothing else it gives one perspective, doesn't it? I've often said I didn't truly change, but the evidence certain speaks for itself, oui? 

To my fellow Inmates, a short broadcast for the time being:

I would be remiss in my role here if I were not to acknowledge that this ship is on the precipice of change, and for better or worse we know not what lies in store for us. Whatever its outcome, we must continue to entertain the notion that we will remain as we are, and this may gladden the hearts of very few.

It is my sad station that words are all that I can offer you and I continue to hope they bring some comfort. Keep home in your hearts, thoughts of skies, of pleasant smells and tastes, of warm feelings and kinder faces. You left them as heroes and every day that you resist, you continue to be heroes.

Behind this iron door, across the air and the barriers between us I reach out my hand to you.

I honor you.

I love you.

(ooc: Some things of note -- the Marquis is still an Inmate and has been for a long time. Presently unsorted, his door is unlocked, but much in the way he was when he first came to the real Barge, he can't comprehend that it's unlocked even though people can come and go pretty much freely. I'd like to presume that in times like this, when a Warden isn't assigned to bring him food, he patiently waits for someone he's friendly with to do it. Volunteers welcome.)

[The curly-headed cherub that appears on the screen also appears to have red splotches all over him. If anyone looks closely before they panic they'll realize it's red ink, as much of it has been scribbled onto an open book on the desk, which -- yes, on closer inspection, appears to be a First Edition Voltaire. The illustrations have been colored in. Badly. And wild spirals crawl across the text. The child picks up the book to show it to the communicator.]

I fixed it.

[The camera tumbles and flips as the communicator clatters to the ground, and the audio immediately cuts in with a high pitched noise that might raise alarms immediately, until, as a small child with ridiculously curly hair and a cherub face comes into view, the sound is then identifiable as laughter. A black dog that is far larger than the child smothers his face with kisses while he giggles and tries in vain to push her off.]

(ooc: Spam is welcome, as the door to his cabin is probably ajar. The Marquis is affected. Most you need to know is he's five-ish, cute as a button, and given to tiny bouts of violate rage when other kids still his toys.)

To my beloved readers
To my comrades
To my soulmates

I dreamed of home when last my eyes closed. In my visions I saw Lacoste, in summer, the summer heat embracing the milky skins of the towns people in the village below my chateau, the young lovers wandering the fields abroad, my orchards within days of maturity, their fruits swelling opulently like the loins of a maiden betrothed, quivering in anticipation of her wedding night just hours ahead of her. The countryside is a golden green, not the sheer saturation of color that I know in the springtime, but more as though the vibrance has baked into the air. In the twilight the night sky would turn such a brilliant blue to shock us with a coolness we thought unreachable.

Many of you know that before I came here I was still a man imprisoned. In that time I took for granted the closeness of my cage to those things I remembered so fondly. It was not until coming here that it was a greater comfort, even back then, to know that those things were out there, though without me. They were not at so great a distance as they are now.

I share my dream with you because all of us share similar dreams. Often I am one to say that we must remember these. They are beautiful. So long as we've memory, they cannot be taken away. So long as we have integrity, they belong to us.

To our newcomers, have strength; there are trying times ahead. But you have power, and you have character. If you did not, the Admiral would not have wanted you so badly. Show them.

Know this: I and others have been here years, and we will not be conquered. Some have not been so lucky, but you are not like them. You are like us. Hold on to what makes you, you. So long as you have your mind you are always free.

Take heart, my loves. Take heart, and resist if those memories mean anything at all to you.


As always and ever faithfully,
M. de Sade

There is no intended disrespect to any persons that were affected by the flood. I'm quite certain it must have been horrid for you, but I can understand why I was not troubled. Really, if any of you were to publish torrid stories about me I would assume you were propositioning me. I'd relish the attention.

[Private to Iago]

I believe whether you want it or not you are in need of a sympathetic ear, my treasure.

[On the screen appears a severe woman, with an authoritative air and a commanding voice. In the background the light sounds of a dog whining can be heard.]

I need not have set foot in this room before to know it is the den of a creature I have known too well in my lifetime. Such fascinating devices strewn about with all this degeneracy and madness. This place is neither Heaven nor Hell, and the Marquis de Sade has no right to the former and no recourse but the latter. That is a matter that shall be rectified shortly.

You may know me as Mme de Montreuil. My daughter with regret was and still is the Marquise Renee Pelagie de Sade. I bear lettre-de-cachet, an ordinance written by the hand of the King and ordained by God, granting me sole authority over the placement of the man whose position I have taken for a time, without interference via the courts or any erroneous third parties. It is with that authority that I address you, now, and this Admiral who refuses to face me.

I have read the written account of my son-in-law's death and his time here, of which I have now disposed, and I am unmoved. Unfettered from the trappings of societal reputation, I may at last speak candidly of matters past: This man is guilty of the crimes of rape, kidnapping, public indecency, sodomy, high treason, blasphemy, and sedition, and to have granted him power over another soul is damnable in itself. All who have permitted it are now culpable. It is therefore my demand that the powers in this place respect my will and the will of God and with my departure send this wretched man back to Hell where he belongs.

There are to be no negotiations. There will be no exceptions. This is what must be done.

[There is a small child on the screen, being favored by kisses from Renate, who is large enough that he could ride her if he were so inclined. Those that know the Marquis' cabin from either videos or visiting will recognize that this is, indeed, filmed in his quarters. But this child, with a head of massive blonde curls and a cherubic air of sweetness, is questionably male to start. And too sweet, to boot, to be the Marquis. ...Well, until he talks.]

Super! I have a fine dog. This dog is mine because she loves me. But where have my servants gone?

[Carnival Filter]

Something you always find in little townships? Secrets. So. Many secrets. The denizens of this fair carnival may be no different in amount, but we do not claim perfection, do we? 

I require a strong arm and a pair of eyes while I venture in to town today.