The Last Voyages // Entry 003. Video. Filtered.
The Following is filtered to John Connor:
"Hmph."
A lovely way to begin this video message, to be sure. Bellatrix is clearly unamused by her new sorting. Rather, she's unamused by the fact that she's been sorted at all, being as how she's convinced she requires no rehabilitation.
"I require my wand," she demands requests calmly. "I assume you've seen the state of this place. I require my wand in order ensure my safety." Her mouth twitches a moment before she adds, "And the safety of others around me, of course." So she has learnt something from her brother-in-law over the years after all. Though otherwise averse to politicking, sometimes Lestrange cannot deny the benefit of manoeuvring with words when one hasn't the leverage provided by magic.
"I understand, Mister Connor, that you are the only one capable of providing this to me." That she doesn't roll her eyes when she speaks her next words is a minor miracle. "I humbly implore you to consider the benefit of my magic returned to me. I'm certain I could cast charms to ward off whatever power it is causing this... mayhem." This offer doesn't mean she's decided that it isn't Lord Voldemort behind this, of course. But even she has to admit it isn't his style.
Her lips part just the barest bit as she looks at something out of view of the camera. A sense of uncertainty or a sort of pensiveness appear to have come over Bellatrix. Seemingly, she's about to say something else.
Instead she concludes the transmission.
End filter.
The following is filtered to Gaius Baltar:
It's a perpetual state of being for Bellatrix these days, looking annoyed. "Doctor Baltar," she intones snappish, "I should like the pleasure of your company. I don't suppose you're in good standing enough with anyone in this wretched place to procure some spirits for us?" Presumably not the restless sort, but the alcoholic variety. "I might suggest speaking with... Doctor Snape-Jones." Oh boy, that left a bad taste in her mouth. "She seems exceptionally sympathetic. I'm sure if you said you merely needed to unwind, she would find some way to supply you." That is to say, she doesn't think anyone likes her well enough to give her access to booze.
She'd be right, really.
End Filter.
The following was originally intended for Gaius Baltar, but Madame Lestrange's communicator is experiencing some filter fail:
"I'd like to speak with you about John Connor." She's about to end the broadcast when a thought occurs to her. As an afterthought, she adds, "Bring cigarettes." Then the screen goes dark.
"Hmph."
A lovely way to begin this video message, to be sure. Bellatrix is clearly unamused by her new sorting. Rather, she's unamused by the fact that she's been sorted at all, being as how she's convinced she requires no rehabilitation.
"I require my wand," she demands requests calmly. "I assume you've seen the state of this place. I require my wand in order ensure my safety." Her mouth twitches a moment before she adds, "And the safety of others around me, of course." So she has learnt something from her brother-in-law over the years after all. Though otherwise averse to politicking, sometimes Lestrange cannot deny the benefit of manoeuvring with words when one hasn't the leverage provided by magic.
"I understand, Mister Connor, that you are the only one capable of providing this to me." That she doesn't roll her eyes when she speaks her next words is a minor miracle. "I humbly implore you to consider the benefit of my magic returned to me. I'm certain I could cast charms to ward off whatever power it is causing this... mayhem." This offer doesn't mean she's decided that it isn't Lord Voldemort behind this, of course. But even she has to admit it isn't his style.
Her lips part just the barest bit as she looks at something out of view of the camera. A sense of uncertainty or a sort of pensiveness appear to have come over Bellatrix. Seemingly, she's about to say something else.
Instead she concludes the transmission.
End filter.
The following is filtered to Gaius Baltar:
It's a perpetual state of being for Bellatrix these days, looking annoyed. "Doctor Baltar," she intones snappish, "I should like the pleasure of your company. I don't suppose you're in good standing enough with anyone in this wretched place to procure some spirits for us?" Presumably not the restless sort, but the alcoholic variety. "I might suggest speaking with... Doctor Snape-Jones." Oh boy, that left a bad taste in her mouth. "She seems exceptionally sympathetic. I'm sure if you said you merely needed to unwind, she would find some way to supply you." That is to say, she doesn't think anyone likes her well enough to give her access to booze.
She'd be right, really.
End Filter.
The following was originally intended for Gaius Baltar, but Madame Lestrange's communicator is experiencing some filter fail:
"I'd like to speak with you about John Connor." She's about to end the broadcast when a thought occurs to her. As an afterthought, she adds, "Bring cigarettes." Then the screen goes dark.