bait_backup | Expect you think that I should be haunted but it never really bothers me

*It’s amusing, certainly. The pettiness of His followers

Lord Voldemort is well aware that reverence is as conditional as loyalty. It is a commodity that has always reeked of the in-genuine, a nicety he enforces with punishment in much the same way dogs are kept off the couch – with the knowledge that it is merely a trained habit, rather than a tenet truly understood. He’s always seen through it, that cautious socialization, the half-muttered scheming, the hush of awe, that scrambled and silent yearning for validation – the hope that play-acted respect can make up for incompetence, as if the gold-medallist in the Olympics of grovelling could ever hope to rise in His favour. Much like their painfully human forms, faith is as fragile as it is easy to manipulate. It’s almost fascinating, the way the air bristles now with poorly disguised discourse, the way preparation for the attack has given way to gossip and nervous second-glances. The appointment of Severus Snape as a spy seems to have struck a cord.*

Threaded | Flat

*The hospital's map is still unfinished and looks out nakedly at the room of Death Eaters without the glowing lines of it's final wards. It has been sketched and refined in chunks for weeks and it's ultimate result is large, complex, like the spread for the ICW had been. Regulus works self-consciously on one small section near the centre, glancing down absurdly frequently at his reference measurements and notes as he tries to pretend he's not in anyone's company and tries not to blurt out any rogue opinions on one Death Eater in particular.

Snape is sitting across the room from him which is a lovely distance, but Regulus can't help but think of Barty's dramatic but oddly fitting suspicions and how from a distance Snape can just seem more of the map. He makes a horrifically unimpressive attempt to shield what he's currently working on from him, but he knows even if he were the largest man in the world he couldn't stop Snape from seeing everything he already has.*

*Regulus and Barty's whispering doesn't go unnoticed by Mulciber, who is sitting across from Snape on the other side of the room. He stares at the two with a closed lip smirk before lighting a fag and turning to Snape with the most smug expression he can muster. Sure, Snape may be the spy but it was his idea, and he made sure The Dark Lord was well aware of it. Hell, he made sure as many people as possible were aware that none of this originated from Snape's mind, but his. For now, he's pleased enough with the knowledge that any information Snape receives that helps their cause would be completely unknown without his influence. Surely The Dark Lord looks at him more favourably. Surely.*

I'm fucking brilliant. You know that, right? Brilliant.

*Lucius arrives a bit late, and a bit flustered, and trying to look neither. Draco's caught something or other and he's been sick, and so Lucius has spent the last ten minutes trying to help Narcissa with him while attempting to ignore his arm burning. It was not, in a word, fun. He offers no explanation, however - he doesn't think that 'my son was vomiting on my robes' will go over well - and just bows apologetically to the Dark Lord before slipping into a seat a few down from Snape. At least Severus isn't irritating.*

*Walden does not rank high among the Death Eaters, and certainly not among the illustrious names that are gathered in this room. He is aware of that and content with it--like any good Slytherin he has found his niche and excelled within it. Today that has meant Apparating from his empty flat the instant the Mark began to burn, leaving nothing behind but a half-eaten sandwich and a stack of pornography to which he is largely indifferent. He found himself among the first to arrive, promptly took his seat, and has remained silent and attentive since.

He doesn't light a cigarette--it would be disrespectful, never mind what the kids are doing, never mind that he'd like to. Other than the slight twitch of his fingers that betrays the craving, Walden offers nothing. He will speak when spoken to, take his orders, and follow them, and that is all. And if he is fortunate, there will be some work for him to do. If he is very fortunate he will find it pleasurable.*

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