Lucius Malfoy

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Dec. 28th, 2004

04:57 am

I often find that a good stiff drink accompanied by the soothing sounds of Rachmagicoff's Disembowelment in B+ Major does the most to calm even the most heightened of nerves. I am, of course, not at all upset for any reason of external significance or international importance whatsoever; in fact, I believe that an unknowing observer might find such a personal upheaval, one that could theoretically result from such a situation -- though it certainly has not -- enough to upset a man from his pillar of sophistication and black robe of Evil while simultaneously inspiring the consummation of much a variety of fine liquor. That I am not at all betraying evidence of the first qualification clearly shows that such a circumstance has not befallen Malfoy Manor and that I am indeed, as stated, merely seeking respite for my heightened nerves.

Of course, this stipulation begs explanation for my heightened nerves. I would assure anyone to whom my writing expresses a semblance of interest that my hours of late have been spent in the close and nearly constant contact of my dearest family. While this does leave open our place of congregation, a fact that I am sure overflows with the blood of suspicion, I must emphasise that no such concern may be validated. It is certainly quite easy to believe that our activities were of a pleasant and controlled nature entirely within our free will. To suggest otherwise would connote an image of the Malfoy name utterly beyond the realms of realistic intellectual reason.

The Outings of Evil, a most constant point of my continued residence in the Manor and consistent interaction with my fellows, have been proceeding in a most pleasing manner. One realises that he is truly making an impact on the world when no longer do bothersome people come whinging about their tortured family members because he thought ahead and devastated them before the event occurred. It is a characteristic such as this that makes my work truly satisfying and heart-warming; the looks upon the faces of those against whom we perform our services is quite rewarding.

It is most interesting to see which method of destruction our patrons prefer; there is a current trend towards quite gaudy displays of Material Mutilation followed by the Parade of Dark and Hello, How May We Pain You Today?, and closing with the classic Scream of Utter Terror. I have a vested interest in following the fluctuations of the Evil Market and have so gained an eye for which methods will become classics and will are merely temporary fads. The Bunny Bombs, for instance, failed to incur the proper physical impact and emotional distress while the Firm Handshake of Evil was never destined to last beyond its solo flight. However, it is always encouraging to see fresh faces enter the industry, and I believe strongly that the young Lotz A. Sharpointythings and his already-popular Stab 3000 will bring a new edge to our technique.

I would also like to proffer a rather straightforward note to Ginny Weasley, the disfigured malignity whose attack upon the Malfoy Manor plagued me with a dreadful case of hives: may a small cloud stalk your steps and bother you with periodic showers, may your quills rise up in revolt and perform a coup d'etat against your education, and may your children be blessed with an overwhelming attraction to constant and extreme vocal emission. I hope you are quite pleased with your actions.

To restate, a literary device I feel most useful when one is trying to emphasise a point -- not, of course, that I am so unsure of my ideas that I feel they may only be underscored into believability if I repeatedly present my opinion of them as being absolute truth -- everything is perfectly fine and normal, requiring little outside attention or intervention. It must not be forgotten that we are the Malfoys; our lives and business are our own. However, there is certainly nothing to about which any outside would have cause to worry. Nothing at all.

Current Mood: determined

Current Music: Phoenix Feathers -- That Certain Wizard

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Sep. 27th, 2004

Aug. 2nd, 2004

07:07 am

Ah, what a pleasant evening. The air is fresh, the sky is clear, and the moon is waning. Not even the sounds of Pixie stripping the emulsion with her teeth can interrupt my serenity.

The past few days have passed relatively well. Despite the ever-irritating presence of Pierre -- quite possibly the only being of my acquaintance who is capable of sporting a combination of puce and ginger robes, which lend to him the appearance of a carrot covered in dung -- the renovations of Malfoy Manor continue on schedule. As Narcissa stated, the work applied to the West Wing is nearly complete, much to my chagrin. Not only did Pierre completely reorganize my framed paintings of the Dark Lord -- A Study of Evil in Pale Blue -- but he had the audacity to demand I relocate my trophy case. Just because he finds severed appendages an offence to the senses does not mean that those of true Evil status must acquiesce. I am a man of a dark mission. I am called into the light and goodness of our modern times to promote and preserve the sacred right of one person to ruthlessly seize power. It is my duty as a Servant of Evil to withstand the brutal onslaught of peace, equal rights, and Martha Stewart. I do not bow in the face of integrity or honesty, and I certainly will not allow a man who supports a fur skirting board to dictate my living space.

Which reminds me, Narcipoo, but only because it is entirely unrelated to the subject at hand, could you please direct the house elves to clean the third floor cupboard, fifth down on the right? Thank you, my lovely.

Though burdened with this inconvenience -- broken temporarily by the incident on Thursday when Pierre sniffed his way though my private chambers and fainted onto the Persian due to emulsion fumes -- I have found myself of enough strength and character to toil onward in my duties. Friday evening I attended a meeting with my collogues that in no way took place near the Lestrange Manor at four am despite what the rumours might say. I always enjoy such get-togethers, for those in my line of work have little opportunity to take off our masks and let down our hair. We played quite a few company games, even being lucky enough to witness an on-the-spot recitation of 101 Fun Things to Do to a Muggle Pub. Narcissy had graciously supplied us with a magnificent spread of delectable treats, culminating in a highly-anticipated DEvil's Food Cake.

Severus joined our party a short time before our ceremony officially began, giving him the opportunity to find his membership badge among the cluttered Welcome table. He most courteously accepted an apology when it was discovered buried in the Most Likely Good/Soon to be Dead bin. I suspect that another situation weighed heavily on his mind, for he could not even muster a grimace at the ritual Removing of the Duvet Tag, an event from which he once gained immeasurable pleasure. Though he accompanied me back to the Manor he seemed terminally distracted, and when I told him that a return to Hogwarts would by no means offend he took leave immediately. I have not heard from him since, and so I hope he has found some peace through the looking glass.

This evening my love and I took dinner with the Parkinsons. It was delightful to visit with such pleasant company and simultaneously reveal the completed splendor of the First Floor Lounge. The evening was further complemented by Narcissikun's choice of entreé; Evil and Jelly do provide such a sophisticated atmosphere.

Ah, the day dawns fresh and pure, waiting innocently for the stain of Evil to mare its delicate frame. I have several errands that beg my attention, and I require a visit to EvilMart as I am low on V. Dangerous Poisons (Probably) and Dark Chocolate.

I anticipate the return of my son within the week.

Current Mood: calm

Current Music: Transalvania (Not Sighisoara) -- They Might Be Wizards

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Jul. 25th, 2004