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Rabastan Lestrange

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Hexed against Voldemort, Bella et Rodolphus. [19 Jan 2005|11:21pm]
[ mood | drunk ]

attentoin world:

i am a melankmelancholy bastard

so help me god

maybe it is taht i am qite sickof bieng an idialistidealist

narcissa?

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[hexed against Bella, Rodolphus and Voldie] [01 Jan 2005|02:41pm]
[ mood | blank ]

Another year, it seems, has passed.

What have I got to show for it? New scars. Old alcoholism. Resurfaced love. A terrible, terrible hangover.

And everything suddenly seems so foolish.

I lie in bed and go back in time and wonder where it all went so wrong.

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No stranger to winter [hexed against Bella, Rodolphus and The Dark Lord] [24 Nov 2004|09:13pm]
[ mood | melancholy ]

I have not yet been called.

This is somewhat... surprising. I've been rather sombre of late, heavens knows why. I should be perfectly happy. But winter's paid me a visit and though we are well acquainted, I can't help but feel a little empty. Colder, perhaps, but that's not any different. I've been stuck in an eternal winter for so long. It comes and goes. Some people make it better. Some people make it worse.

But I'm getting sick of it; I'm getting restless, I miss holidaying on the coast of France in summer like we all used to do. What ever happened to that? I suppose we went our separate ways and then met again on a crossroads, changed people. I find myself longing for the old camaraderie we used to enjoy so much. Perhaps even the alcoholism. I miss getting to bed in the morning and living by night, I miss the way the lights used to be so hazy, softened in the ethereal afterglow of a bottle of wine.

What happened to Paris? What happened to the Merlots, the Cabernet Sauvignons, the Rieslings?

I want to see the world through the bottom of a crystal glass again.

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[12 Nov 2004|10:57pm]
[ mood | lonely ]

There's no aphrodisiac like loneliness.

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[19 Oct 2004|04:33pm]
[ mood | discontent ]

Apparently the powers-that-be have seen to it that I am bloody bored, again. And alone. Dearest Bella and Rodolphus seem to have stopped going at it like rabbits - the walls are awfully thin here - although whether they were in the first place is certainly questionable. They might have been, oh, I don't know. Discussing literature whilst agreeing enthusiastically (and rather loudly)? It doesn't matter anyway; they are not even here. Yes, leave all the domestic work to the poor younger sibling. Oh, the woes of being a lowly peon in the grand scheme of things. A mere hit-man. A heavy. A minion. It really does make one contemplate one's position in the world, doesn't it.

I've been reading the Dostoevsky Narcissa sent me. I'm absolutely positive most of it is going over my head, unless the book really is a burning insight into the violent nature of man. I'm constantly misinterpreting things like this, to the point of things being rather amusing. Yes, daft old Rabastan, king of the misinterpretation.

To make matters worse, they have made very sure that I remain in a state of sobriety. How on earth am I meant to ooze charisma otherwise?

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[12 Oct 2004|02:48am]
[ mood | unimpressed with the world ]

I'm tired, I'm damp, I'm dirty and I'm bloody, and the first thing I have to do when I get home is re-ward everything. Brilliant. I still feel quite ill, the kind of nausea you get when you've spent far too much time in the sun without drinking any water and the only thing you've eaten is one of those disgusting Cornish pasties, the ones with the thick, gluggy pastry and the meat that's hardly recognisable. Which brings to mind the lack of any food in this house. Complete and utter woe is me, yes.

It's been so long since I've had Crucio used against me. I've become so used to using it, I'd almost forgotten what it was like - and maybe I shouldn't be so used to it. It still hurts, of course, blinding pain, and I hurt like hell now - not that I mind. But then, that brings to mind the question: Am I used to the curse, or just to the pain?

I was never good at contemplation or misery.

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[25 Sep 2004|12:49pm]
[ mood | cold ]

I hate them.

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[21 Sep 2004|05:36pm]
[ mood | annoyed ]

The report has come in and it seems twenty-seven per cent of my muscles have atrophied.

Well, not really, but I'm rather bored. I feel as if I am going stir-crazy as we speak, and my bastard - THAT'S RIGHT, YOU - brother is not helping. At all. In fact he is being rather unhelpful. Obviously all the brains, good looks and personality were invested in the youngest son, the eldest of course being the "practise pancake".

Yes, Roddy, I called you a pancake and NO I will not make you pancakes now stop reading over my shoulder you ruddy bastard no get off ouch!

sophghsoooooh look at me I am Rabastan! I'm such a poncy bastard with no bollocks! I also PRANCEISOEOOOOOOOWiwalklik

Rodolphus lies. I do not prance. I just have loose limbs. He's just jealous because he has all the grace of a mountain troll.

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[12 Sep 2004|12:13pm]
[ mood | bored ]

It would be terribly nice to say that I actually had something to do today, so I could complain about the fact that I had ever so much to do. Unfortunately, unlike some people - not mentioning any names - I don't have anything to do.

(If I did, I wouldn't complain about it, at any rate.)

Narcissa, forgive me for not speculating on a time at which we might meet. I've been killing pigeons because their incessant cooing vexes me and I'm allergic to their feathers. And a sneezing, hayfeverish Rabastan is not a fun Rabastan to be with.

However, thank you for your little care package. In my youth I never really did get Dostoevsky. They say if you can read the first one hundred pages, you can read the whole thing. The chocolate frogs were also briefly appreciated, although I believe Rodolphus may have taken some while I was not looking. He really should watch what he eats. HE IS NOT BIG BONED. IT IS ALL FAT!

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[29 Aug 2004|12:53am]
[ mood | drunk ]

its reaelly qite quit early late right now!

rodoplus is aslep! i thsin bellleleatrix put seomthing in his dirnk buuwt not mine, i jusst fund found a nice drop and

i realy have a luvley singing vioce really rodoolphus sais sias says it is becos becaus i have no bolox bollocks but thats NOTN TRUe i cna proove it haha

i dont knowhat his plorbrem probtem is he usd to be fun

but ia m have alwais allwayes alwyas always been the best broter

why didnt yoou mary me
bella

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[25 Aug 2004|06:29pm]
[ mood | groggy ]

We had nothing in the larder so I ate an apple today. Green, tough skin, tart and floury. The worst apple I have ever eaten. Ever. And I am not exaggerating.

On the bright side, Rodolphus is rather depressed because his butterflies have started dropping dead. I told him that his sadness would be fleeting and, lo and behold, he's already sticking pins in them and making a lovely little mounted display.

We got into a bit of a fight with The Mark and everything; I ended up having to trudge all the way up this hill with a Muggle park on top, and from there you have this brilliant view of Muggle London - you can see The Mark from miles off. Rodolphus cast his right on our street and we don't have shutters and he made it the strongest he could so I can't bloody sleep at night. Apparently I needed to lose some weight, and that's why I had to climb all the way up the hill. He's the one who needs to lose some weight in my opinion, but apparently he's just "big-boned". Big-boned my arse.

The lovely Missus Black-Lestrange has finally moved in again, and therefore Rodolphus is not so cantankerous all the time - only half the time he's a complete and utter fuckstick. I had a shot of Firewhiskey but I am not at all feeling the effects, and this is rather disappointing.

End communication.

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[07 Aug 2004|02:56pm]
[ mood | annoyed ]

I am well and truly sick of this flat. I never really thought there would come a time when I almost missed that dreadful place, but when one's flatmate is related to you, has all the good temperament of a starved Kneazle and has abstained for the past God-knows-how-long, one can tire of the situation rather quickly.

My dearest sister-in-law pops in and out constantly, and, much to the 'man of the house''s chagrin, isn't ravishing him on the kitchen table right at this very moment. I suppose in this aspect I feel rather sorry for dear Rodolphus, but the lovely Bellatrix Lestrange, neé Black, is so dreadfully distressed over the absence of our Lord that I doubt she'd be very fun for him anyway. In which case, Rodolphus is actually being incredibly selfish and really needs to keep his ego in check lest his lady does something completely irrational and uncalled for, like castrating him and throwing his testicles into the seafoam in order to create some kind of nymph-goddess.

And now I feel as if I have wasted all this ink on complaining incessantly about my brother's nonexistant sex life. Especially considering Bellatrix's deep, philosophical musings about life, death and whatever catches her fancy. Oh dear, Rabastan you old fool, you really have been out of the loop for quite some time.

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