Remy smirked as more of the “sacred order” entered the house, a few with auras full of power – some earned and some inherited – and others will little more to offer than a warm body. The headmaster, Vincent Majere, was easily a target of Remy’s intuition about people who had power. He was in a place of influence at the school, and she knew him to have ties to the ministry. That type of power was easily worth whatever time and effort it might take her to exploit him.
Others, though, were pitifully weak and useless when it came to the things they could provide for Remy. Many were not even old enough to fulfill her physical needs, much less provide the security, wealth, or protection she had sought to gain by joining this mismatched group of individuals.
The Death Eaters were slowly losing their grasp on the power they had once held, something that had not been lost on Remy. She was willing to remain a part of the organization as long as there was hope of regaining their foothold, but she would not hesitate to place her stakes elsewhere if she knew the Death Eaters held a losing hand.
Taking the lead of the other Death Eaters, Remy slid into the seat she had been standing behind, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder as she sat. Her long fingers intertwined themselves with each other and she let her arms rest on the table in front of her, a table of polished marble inlaid with gold. The finery in the Malfoy Manor never ceased to impress Remy, but more than that it impressed upon her how advantageous it would be to get into the circle – or she would settle for the bedrooms – of the Malfoys.
When Sandra took the place at the head of the table and started her speech, Remy paid the required amount of attention at nodded at the appropriate times. Although she shared none of the passion or fervor for the cause that Sandra and some of the other Death Eaters did, Remy knew how to play the part. It was easy to nod at the appropriate times, let a smirk play across her face to give the illusion of emotional thought, though Remy had none.
Remy was forced to withhold a patronizing smile when one among those gathered at the table, someone she recognized as Faelan, made the foolish mistake of questioning the new head of the Death Eaters. It was obvious that he was displeased by Sandra’s takeover, but he ought to have known that there would be little he could do about it. People who knew their place – or at least could pretend to – were those who were safest among this crowd.
As their banter continued, the subject of loyalty came up, an attribute that seemed to be praised so highly among Death Eaters and Order members alike. Loyalty held no bearing with Remy, though. Loyalty wasn’t all that worthy of praise in Remy’s opinion, which was unsurprising because she felt so little of it toward anyone or anything aside from herself.
What others called their loyalty or fidelity, Remy thought of as lethargy of custom or lack of imagination. Loyalty didn’t get you what you wanted; often, all it got you was a boarding pass on a sinking ship. Loyalty was never important when your friends or organization was doing well; it is easy to be loyal when it is to one’s advantage. Loyalty is only called into question when struggles and conflict abound, and Remy was usually not one to be found once the situation turned sour.
Dogs are the only creatures on earth who love you more than they love themselves, Remy thought to herself, still maintaining the expressions which most appropriately matched the spat she was watching, though she had grown bored with it already. She had plenty of practice parading an emotion that she did not actually feel. Everyone it is in it for themselves, they just won’t admit it. I am not so deluded.
“As thrilling as I find this little exchange,” Remy interrupted, her voice carrying the suggestion of sarcasm, but not so outright that anyone could call her out on it, “I think you’ve made your point, Faelan.”
Remy knew little about Faelan, but she knew enough about Sandra to know where her loyalties ought to lie. Faelan might be able to provide something, but he could easily be conned later on, perhaps in a dark bar at closing time. Sandra would not present herself for alliance nearly as often, nor did she seem the type who could be swayed as easily, and so it was not a difficult choice on whose side Remy would stand.
A lack of conscience makes everything easier, Remy thought with a slight smirk before speaking up once more.
“I will not hesitate to lay down my wand,” Remy said, her voice clear and smooth as she did just that. It was not a difficult decision, choosing to side with Sandra, but it was even easier to lay down her wand. The little strip of wood was mostly for show, anyhow, as Remy could do nothing more than the bare minimum when it came to magic. She was really no less powerful without her wand than with it. None of the others in the room knew this, however, as Remy was careful to guard this secret, so the gesture would not carry any less weight in the eyes of those who witnessed it.
((Sorry for the length. I got carried away.))
by Faelan Welty Sun Jan 31, 2010 2:49 am
not saying im not listening he will place is wand down in the end))