Day One - Morning
Well, shit. Bloody fucking shit! The Dark Lord is gone. Not permanently, mind you, but gone to a bloody monastery of all places where he can get his 'rest' and 'peace.' Chances are, he'll come back a wreck of a man and it will take me weeks to get him back to his semi-normal state of being. I hate when he does this. I hate when he leaves me period. Doesn't the bastard know what he does to me when he goes on one of his soul-searching adventures?
I hope he chokes on a bone. Of course, if he does, I won't be there to pry it out of his throat like the last time.
Alright, so maybe I am suffocating him a bit. So what? I have my reasons. Besides, it's not as though I can just escape him even if I wanted to. If he wants me, he summons. Or he yells really loudly. And I show up and we commence.
He assigns me his laundry and I bitch and moan as to the fact that he's disposed of another House Elf who could do those certain tasks. But does he ever listen? No.
I am beginning to feel like the haggard wife of a married couple. If he wants to go out and think about life and be at one with nature, he should do it when I'm dead or injured or incredibly busy with another of my pet projects. Not when I've nothing to do!
Of course, he doesn't see it that way. He finds me selfish and demanding and arrogant. Strange man that he is, he says he likes it better that way. The man has no idea of the crap I go through for him. If it isn't disguising myself to fulfill some obligation, it's making sure his coffee is served on time and getting him a few new House Elves to replace the ones he loses.
Not that I'm complaining, of course. It's just that I'd like some appreciation for what I go through on a day to day basis. The loss of him does not help my case at all. And his lack of being here only causes me distraction. I hope that wherever he is, he's happy. And thinking. And not being bitten by a rabid squirrel.
He left me a note on his nightstand. He had intended for me to find it in the morning after he had gone. Can you believe that? He wanted to just leave it there and go without saying good-bye or letting us have one final fuck before he takes off to his monastery to think.
He had better not be finding religion, that's all I have to say.
I'll read the note in the afternoon. Preferably after I've had breakfast and settled out the affairs at the Ministry. Thankfully, it's Thursday and approaching the weekend so the officials are less inclined to deal with things now.
The Dark Lord's Cause needs more financial status. I'll have to fill out the forms for that today. I've managed to find a loophole in the Ministry's funding that states they'll put down government issued funding for any religion that has more than fifty followers, a place to meet, and several charity events to its name.
Sometimes, it's just too damn easy. But then, isn't this why I get so involved in the Death Eaters? To keep out the mediocre idiocy of the Ministry and to develop my own talents within a system that resolves to make full use of whatever it is I have to show them? To hell with morals and principles. I just want to have fun.
And Lord Voldemort provides.
When he isn't busy slumming it up being at one with nature. I hope he nearly gets eaten by a bear again. This time, he doesn't have Quirrel to bitch at. He had told me that while he was plastered to the head of that git, a bear had approached them in the forests of..somewhere. A Russian bear at that. They had climbed a nut tree and had stayed there for a day and half, existing on a diet of, well, nuts.
Silly man. I told him that Russian bears were only interested in riding Muggle bicycles while wearing beanies. But I wasn't there to impart my extensive knowledge with the Great!God!Voldemort, so naturally, he had to do what Quirrel wanted to do. Which was to run up a tree and sit and bicker.
Times like these, I pity him. Of course, I wouldn't be willing to take him into my own body. I've enough troubles of my own to worry about without the addition of an added head.
All this talk of nuts has made me hungry. Screw it.
---
Day One - Afternoon
Have read the note. Not quite sure how to feel about it. I mean, seriously! I knew he wanted me to do a few chores for him, like feed his little pets while he was away and take Mulciber out for walks, but to handle all the Death Eaters? Who the hell does he think I am? Himself?
Granted, I am his Second and the Death Eaters normally listen to me anyway, but to be in charge to this extent makes me worry. I'm used to creating strategies and tactics while keeping myself carefully shielded from view. Leadership of this nature requires me to be out in the open. And that's something I cannot afford. I do have a family to consider.
Lousy Voldemort. He probably knew all of this so while he's out there, yogaing it up with nature, I'm stuck back here dictating policy to a bunch of sycophants. The Inner Circle, I can take. They possess some modicum of intelligence. The others are just a pack of bloodthirsty gits and Voldemort knows I can't stand them! He knows and he doesn't give a shit and now I'm stuck baby-sitting the brats until daddy dearest gets back.
If he gets back.
No, I won't even dwell on that thought.
Orders are orders are orders and for some unknown reason, Voldemort has decided to put me in charge of his loyal *snerk* band of followers. How droll. I doubt he expects me to brand them. I doubt even more that he expects me to continue to take over the world in his absence. He's not dead and he will be coming back, so chances are, he just wants me to watch over the crowd for the four days he's gone. Not that I have much of a choice in the matter.
I suppose it could be worse. It's not like I've much to do with my time anyway. And I should be glad that I now have this much power and control. I run an entire army and while the Dark Lord is gone, I reign supreme over all! No one can stop me! I bow to no one! People bow to me!
But I would much rather have my place in the shadows once again. The spotlight is on me when I want it to be on me. Which, despite many rumours, isn't 24/7. At least the Death Eaters listen to me, which is more than I can say for many others.
And this is probably why Voldemort dumped the responsibility on me. Sure, I know that if Voldemort ever kicked the proverbial bucket, forever this time, I'd be the one the Death Eaters turned to and the one who would continue to lead them in his stead. At least, that's what I've been brought up to believe. So the Inner Circle listens to me and trusts me as much as it's possible for characters like them to do so. The other Death Eaters will fall into place easily enough.
And since I'm the one who thinks up the grand schemes while our Lord is off exterminating someone or making alliances, it's only natural that I'd be the one in charge while he's away. All the same, it is like baby-sitting.
Only I'm not paid. We're all 'earners' here. Our monetary reward comes from our victims. We work our way up. Those who do nothing, get nothing. And all is right with the world.
And now, I'm in charge of all of this. What the hell was he thinking?
Might as well make the best of it. Perhaps I can use this time to instill a few changes in the monotony of our day to day lives. Let them 'earn' a little more and look good while doing it.
For one, those gray robes simply have to go. They are so last season.
---
Day One - Evening
I have established the most beautiful colour scheme ever. I swear, even I'm impressed with the results. I figured what the Death Eaters need to instill the proper amount of fear and terror in their victims are pastels! Yes! Lovely pastels! No more grays! Only whites! And purples!
And to counter the pastels of the spring season, there's a lovely deep rich green I'm initiating that will be for our summer wardrobe. Dark green with black masks. The Aurors will be too busy loving the designs to AK our asses! There will be purple, white, and dark blue for the winter season. One will need to blend in well with the background on some occasions, hence the white, and just plain look good out on the battlefield, hence the other two.
But fall, now there I'm really in a bind. I can always initiate the usual fall colours which consist of dark brown, green, and maybe even a lilac or pretty golden red. The problem is not only are those colours already taken, but we've already got a purple, brown is so boring, golden red seems more of a Gryffindor colour, and green? Well, we can't have everything be green now, can we? People will say we're obsessed.
So I'm thinking of colour contrasting in the fall season. Camouflage for some, and a western style motif for a few others. The good looking ones, more specifically. The ones with muscles.
I really must try and find a nice torquise look. I so adore the colour. And red. Even though it's a Gryffindor colour, I still think it would look nice. Maybe black robes with red masks. Symbolizing, I don't know, the blood on our faces? Ew. That's just a horrid mental image.
Well, I sent the design prototypes to Mrs. Lestrange, recently released from Azkaban (go us!) and she says the new outfits should be ready by tomorrow. Thank Salazar for magic that allows one to resize clothing.
It feels good, really, to be getting things along. I've spoken to the Inner Circle about this whole Voldemort leaving me in charge thing and they're fine with it for the most part. The other Death Eaters made a few grunting noises that I am taking for agreement since none have tried to kill me yet. This could only be looked at as a positive thing.
Voldemort will be thrilled to see the new designs I created. True, I did try to pass this doctrine a few decades ago before he got axed by Potter, and true, he didn't much look twice at the idea, but here they all are! Ready and waiting to parade in and greet him with their lovely new colours!
They will bring a tear to those red eyes of his. And if not, I can always poke him in one and produce a few. The man just refuses to cry around anyone. Seems to think of it as a weakness. Though I have seen him cry once and that was only due to a laundry accident in which some idiot Elf shrank his favorite robe and dyed it pink. I tried to point out to him that, 'hello? It's shrunk, you can resize it and take out the colour with ma-gic!' but he didn't much appreciate the suggestion.
Sometimes, he can be so..what's the word? Stubborn.
Like when he agreed to go on this bullshit vacation. He did it to get away from me. I just know it. I hope a tree falls on him as he's meditating.
I hope he comes back home soon. The night seems to drag on without him. Far be it from me to whine or complain, but..I miss the bastard. Wherever he is, he'd better be thinking of me. Tomorrow night, I'll have to keep myself busy to prevent myself from dwelling on missing him too much.