| 10; and all you've been through. |
[Jul. 11th, 2008|09:39 pm] |
[Warded to Graley Rosier: Goyle, Wilkes and Crouch later added]
Some time spent with Elle Abercrombie - you read about her, dismissed for providing information to the Prophet - has seemed to yield results that could be to the Dark Lords advantage (especially in connection with the article out).
After Lucius Malfoy's arrest, Aurors discovered some suspicious activity at a manor in Wiltshire owned by a Logan Creighton. Aurors have set up patrols to pass every few hours, but there's to be a stake out tomorrow night centered in the servants' quarters. It's strictly information gathering - there's to be no confrontation or contact.
With your permission, sir, I would like to be permitted to lead a force against those Aurors and, in the name of the Dark Lord, wipe them all out.
We leave at sundown. |
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| 9; the sum of my crimes. |
[Jun. 29th, 2008|03:55 pm] |
I remember this saying: No hay nada ocultado entre el cielo y la tierra.
Please, Gods. Let it be so.
[Warded Private]
I have a near constant ache in my heart to return to the home I will never know again. My mother's arms soft as down welcome me and I hide there, remembering when I was once innocent and without much blame in the world.
But I must disabuse myself of that notion. I have become a killing machine (though never so much as father would like) and must therefore realise that such comforts are no more meant for the likes of me.
It is easier to kill that part of me - the small, silent side that is still human - than to live this life (however long it might be) in continued anguish. There is so little to hope for, so little goodness left ... all that I know (all that I am) is dark, dark, dark.
Thus dead, I shall thrive in the dark like an Inferius, a dark vacuum that sucks the life from around it.
[Warded Private to Graley]
Never forget that I hate you and since I am already dead, perhaps I will thank you when this body stops working.
[Warded Private to Georgina]
I think I love you -- Gods damn. I will just say it.
Do you ever feel remorse for what you do?
[Private to Regulus]
It's been a while. |
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| 20 june 1979; the longest day |
[Jun. 20th, 2008|12:09 pm] |
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To those who celebrate the summer solstice, I send my best wishes. |
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| Early Morning before Arrests: |
[Jun. 19th, 2008|07:00 pm] |
[Warded to Rodolphus Lestrange]
Kirke isn't entirely dead. I successfully subdued him and began the slow process of making a man die (especially when he outweighs you by at least one hundred pounds) ...
But he screamed, some Muggles showed up and began calling for the police. I left them there. He's as good as dead, though, with their medicines. I wouldn't be surprised if he bled out right there.
I broke his arm, cracked quite a few ribs, smashed his ankle and removed his tongue and left eye. I will finish the job at your discretion. |
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| six; three twenty AM. |
[Jun. 18th, 2008|09:49 am] |
[Warded Private]
NOTES:
Rilian Kirke - 43, 6'1", 18 stone, unmarried (likes whores and barmaids), no children
Office - MoM, works 7 AM - 7 PM, schedule like clockwork
Walks down The Strand toward St. James's park where he remains at his pub until 9 PM. Stops into St. James's after being moderately liquored and Apparates behind the same ash tree to ...
His known address - Foxglove Flats.
Get him in St. James's |
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| five; twelve fifty PM |
[Jun. 7th, 2008|12:45 pm] |
[Private]
It's all going according to plan. Severus and Alecto, while possessing plenty of unattractive traits, are intensely competent associates and their intelligence rivals more than a few Death Eaters of the higher orders. I would be more than pleased to work with them again.
In father's eyes, however ... I hate him, so. I've written to Uncle Cristobal to start paperwork - should something happen (knowing that it will) - that names he and Uncle Joaquin as the sole heirs to the plantation and all its income with a provision that explicitly states Graley Rosier is never to see one half of a cent.
That's what he gets. Nothing that belonged to Mama should ever pass through his dirty hands.
[/Private]
My condolences to the Black family as well as those who were lost in the attacks on the Quidditch stadium. |
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| four; three twenty AM. |
[May. 12th, 2008|03:22 am] |
Warded private:
I equate tonight with watching my Uncle Ramirez extracting sap from a tree to use in this or that on the farm. Drinking with little Meaghan was interesting and I almost succeeded in tapping her. Another few moments and she would have told me anything I wanted to know. It's funny with these Muggle whores. You merely suggest something sexual and they are but pawns in your hand ...
Don't I have enough, though? I would prefer to not sully myself further. What if Georgina saw? I can't risk that again. I won't. We succeeded together in Soho and I would prefer to keep her opinion of me rather spotless.
End Ward.
Agnes
Warded to Death Eaters:
I can say, with some amount of surety, that Meaghan McCormack is an Order sympathiser if not already a member. |
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| three; seven forty pm |
[May. 2nd, 2008|07:44 pm] |
Happy Birthday to me.
[Warded Private]
My first birthday without her is likely to be my last. I feel as though I am staring down the barrel of a gun, grinning as the executioner pulls the trigger. I am content in this. Almost too much so ... I want to drag people down with me as I go. I want to lay him low in the ground. & I will do so.
[End Ward] |
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| two; twelve fifteen am |
[Apr. 22nd, 2008|11:50 pm] |
DEATH be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then;
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.
***
( Warded Private )
***
( Warded to Death Eaters & Supporters. ) |
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| two; one oh eight pm. |
[Mar. 24th, 2008|01:08 pm] |
Warded Private;
I spend my days wishing that the infrastructure would collapse. Even these Death Eaters in our Lord's inner-circle should taste the bitterness of defeat and the all too sweet tang of anguish. Their power grates at me (because it is not mine). I tire of waiting punctuated by little bursts of energy that are fruitless, at best.
I am not Regulus, though, and for that I am glad. His ability to attract negative attention is at a level higher than I can comprehend. Does my father not teach him how to be subtle? No, because my father knows it not. All of these continental folk ...
Marius Lestrange insults a Mudblood in public and is made foolish for his trouble. He got what he deserved for not being more sly about it. Better to do things with patience (and then do spectacularly cause destruction, body and mind).
My contemporaries are a hoarde of simpering babies. Does it take arid mountains, clean living and a mother's touch to create that which is both careful and brutal?
End Ward.
Warded to Death Eaters & supporters;
I understand failure all too well & acknowledge my part in the disaster at Knockturn Alley. Now, what are we waiting for? I'd rather use my energy toward productive things and I don't think those include insulting Mudbloods in public places. |
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| one; eleven fifteen AM |
[Feb. 25th, 2008|11:15 am] |
It would be uncouth of me to reiterate what has been said on these devices in the past days. Suffice to say, I find it all mindnumbing in one degree or another and would like nothing more than to see a few voices silenced for their troubles.
Warded Private:
Mother writes. Mother thrives (here was I thinking that she would waste away without me) with her hands in the dirt, all amongst her growing things. She says that the juniper is blooming and that my favourite owl hoots mournfully all night. She says that I must be a good boy and do as my father says until I find a time and a place to do what every son must.
I wish ... I hope ...
I am done with wishing and hoping. It is easier to be what they all expect me to be. No one can deny that I am good at this, at what is to come. Violence runs in my blood more than theirs, after all.
... I have been experimenting with the fire charms, though. I watched that Auror in Hogsmeade. I saw what he did, I modified it and now, oh. I am to be unstoppable. That shopkeeper - Swothsby - would have gotten it full in the face if I hadn't gotten what I wanted.
End Ward.
Seemingly I have procured myself a parrot who goes by the name of "Oscar". This must not be - he needs a new name. |
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