"I don't think I'll ever understand house-elves," the Baron remarked. "All this magic, and the best they come up with for a slave race is house-elves. They're efficient, I'll give them that. But perhaps it's the distraction factor- these primitive humans are very easily distracted. Even by their own property. . . I just don't get that." Emphasis on 'own'- other people's property was often a perfectly respectable distraction. He drained off a good portion of his own wine, used to the accompanying rush of Spice. That the Master was obviously feeling his Spice was apparent in his rather personal revelations, but, it wasn't anything that Vladimir couldn't have deduced from his glimpses of the Master's memories. Except for the 'centuries' part- it appeared he was one of those lucky species blessed with a youthful sort of longevity. 'Looking like that' was a somewhat curious comment, as was the resurrection bit, but, Vladimir was already acquainted with Jherek Carnelian. . .who also hailed from some Time-obsessed culture. He briefly wondered if there were any links between this Doctor and Master and Jherek's sort.
With all this talk about pretty rivals and their distraction qualities, it was difficult to avoid thoughts of his own object of frustrations back home. He didn't really have 'history' with Paul Atreides, persay- the Imperium's vendettas were rather cold things in practice, what with most interaction being impersonal, and actually being in the presence of one another rare. Paul was also quite young, so, there hadn't been much time to cultivate anything resembling history. The history between House Harkonnen and House Atreides was ancient however, going back millenia- it was a extremely personal matter for all involved, especially in light of the body count. Actually offing a family member was a rarity, given Imperial laws on how these things were to be conducted, but, anyone else was in much more flexible position. During a full hostile takeover, however, the entirety of the family needed to be eliminated, and without so much as a fleck of blood on his own hands. There were always truthsayers to deal with in these things.
"What is it about beautiful rivals that is so exquisitely frustrating?" A sigh, of genuine regret. "If I find myself back home, I'll be tossing mine into the desert for the worms. He's too damn inconvenient to keep around, but it'll be such a waste. He's still so young, the same age my nephew. But, I can't very well kill the father and not the son." Especially not with the training imparted by his witch-mother. Vladimir could care less about the Imperial rules for what they were- no one would have need known that he'd kept the son of Leto for himself. But, in this case, they were keeping his sensibilities in check.
He smirked before finishing off the remainder of his glass, well-aware of his own reciprocal forthcomingness. But at Hogwarts, it hardly seemed to matter, and it wasn't as if it stemmed from some sudden surge of actual empathy. There was certainly some sense of rapport with the Master that he seemed to be enjoying, but, mainly it was the cocaine. "This Doctor's here, is he? Somehow, I've never noticed him around. I'm pretty sure I'd have remembered."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2012-01-04 09:59 pm (UTC)With all this talk about pretty rivals and their distraction qualities, it was difficult to avoid thoughts of his own object of frustrations back home. He didn't really have 'history' with Paul Atreides, persay- the Imperium's vendettas were rather cold things in practice, what with most interaction being impersonal, and actually being in the presence of one another rare. Paul was also quite young, so, there hadn't been much time to cultivate anything resembling history. The history between House Harkonnen and House Atreides was ancient however, going back millenia- it was a extremely personal matter for all involved, especially in light of the body count. Actually offing a family member was a rarity, given Imperial laws on how these things were to be conducted, but, anyone else was in much more flexible position. During a full hostile takeover, however, the entirety of the family needed to be eliminated, and without so much as a fleck of blood on his own hands. There were always truthsayers to deal with in these things.
"What is it about beautiful rivals that is so exquisitely frustrating?" A sigh, of genuine regret. "If I find myself back home, I'll be tossing mine into the desert for the worms. He's too damn inconvenient to keep around, but it'll be such a waste. He's still so young, the same age my nephew. But, I can't very well kill the father and not the son." Especially not with the training imparted by his witch-mother. Vladimir could care less about the Imperial rules for what they were- no one would have need known that he'd kept the son of Leto for himself. But, in this case, they were keeping his sensibilities in check.
He smirked before finishing off the remainder of his glass, well-aware of his own reciprocal forthcomingness. But at Hogwarts, it hardly seemed to matter, and it wasn't as if it stemmed from some sudden surge of actual empathy. There was certainly some sense of rapport with the Master that he seemed to be enjoying, but, mainly it was the cocaine. "This Doctor's here, is he? Somehow, I've never noticed him around. I'm pretty sure I'd have remembered."