Observations

Observations

Postby Treadwell » Wed Jul 03, 2013 1:58 pm

A dreadful morning's breakfast with Councilor Berdini and Rhaena Burnie was hardly reassuring.

And the bacon was burned.

The day had been spent, mostly, in a warm bathtub sweating and snoring at home, trying to stay out of the insufferable Myrken summer heat.

A late night trip to the inn was abbreviated by a sight of Catch assaulting a dress-garbed Ariane Carnath-Emory, threatening to rip her out of her clothes.

And silly Aloisius had the brilliant idea to get in the way.

He arrived home in a daze with a nice knot on the back of his head from Catch's kicking him when he knelt to assist the muddled marshal.

Now, wearing a yellow nightgown and cap, Aloisius sits at his writing desk in his study again, quill trembling in his grip, parchment spread before him under lantern light, door locked, window shuttered.

21373
Coun. Ber. and R. B. not receptive.
Gov. G. B. missing.
Mar. A. C. E. in fine gown attacked by Gr. Ca.


Ink is left to dry for a few minutes as Aloisius sets down the quill, grabs his cane, and carefully toddles around his study.

"Myrken's a mess, Aloisius, a mess. Oh!"

His stomach, upset by the recent blow to his head, rolls and roils as he takes the first few hesitant steps. It's quelled only by his easing onto a couch.

"No walking. Just rest. Just rest."

He hufffffs a wheeze.

Then, the brief twinkle of recollection.

"How did she know I was at the meetinghouse? No coincidences, Aloisius. Not a one. She--she's up to something, mmph mmph, and she's watching me."
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium
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Re: Observations

Postby Treadwell » Thu Jul 04, 2013 3:12 am

Morning of the fourth day of the seventh month, 213.

"Westenford, love. It's the only place with folks I trust, hm hm, never mind that half of them are idiots who've tried to stab me in the back physically or figuratively in my sixty-eight years."

"But why, Aloisius? You're telling me to take the children--five children, and two of them aren't even a year old yet!"

"Take them away from Myrken Wood, love. Someone's watching me--likely watching us--and I'm seeing trickles of things that are just flat wrong."

"Wrong?"

A snort from both Treadwells.

"Wrong. Ariane Emory in a dress, love, a blooming ballroom gown!"

"She's a woman, Aloisius."

"Not that woman!"

"What else, then? I am entirely not convinced."

"Berdini. He's an idiot who's not listening to good, sound advice. I've no idea, mmph mmph, why he was elected to the Council in the first place."

"You called half your former colleagues such a moment ago."

"Him, too! He's going right along with Rhaena Burnie taking over for her husband!"

"Her husband Glenn?"

"The Governor, mmph mmph!"

A thoughtful pause. A dab of napkin at lips. It is lunch, after all.

"Can she do that?"

"By the Glutton's ooze-slushing ass, she can't! And she won't! But I need you and the children out of Myrken Wood, love. Please, humor me in this? For. . . ."

"For how long, Aloisius? We're just as old, you and I, and the children--the babies?"

Fat fingers drum on the table's edge.

"Give me a month. A month, love, and I'll send the coach back for the lot of you."

"A month."

"I'm sending Langley along, to help, and the both of you will be staying with Elizia."

"Langley? Your older brother? The traveling judge you made a Tubbian and fattened up to be half your size in the last two years? Aloisius, he's. . . he's eighty years old, or close."

"The same."

"And Elizia? She's--"

"My elder sister. The middle child. She's about the same as Langley."

"I still think it's madness."

"My love, it's safety. I trust you with my brother and sister, hmm hmm, one house over from my dearest friend in Westenford, more than I trust your being here with me at the moment. Besides, just let any Tubbian in town know whom it is you're married to, hee hee, and you'll be treated as a queen."

"Won't you need Arnold and the carriage? It's nearly a week there and back, alone."

"I'll manage, dearest, mmph mmph. I'll manage."

Alice Treadwell pauses to think, to reflect.

"We'll go tonight, if Langley's ready for the trip. Just, Allie?"

"Love?"

"Be careful."
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium
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Re: Observations

Postby Treadwell » Tue Jul 16, 2013 2:52 am

Morning of the sixteenth day of the seventh month, 213.

Twelve days.

Twelve days of no wife, no brother, and no children.

Twelve days of no progress on any of this whole mess.

Aloisius Treadwell finds himself in his toy shop this morning, half-dressed in a purple pajama jumper, swollen and sprawled out in a chair at his kitchen table--a table just cleaned up from the waves of food put on it in one long, ongoing breakfast.

"More folks are being afflicted, Aloisius, mmph mmph. They're becoming more and more muddled in the head, and you still haven't the least idea, hmm hmm, of what to do about any of it!"

He snorts and absently takes to scratching at his left side, wincing as a dull throb rolls through his leg where it once broke with his falling through a stage.

"She can't touch me, though I reckon she simply thinks I'm not worth the effort or I'm too ornery to do much with, hmm hmm. But what about all the others, hmm?"

A shudder runs through the great tub.

"The wench is turning Myrken into some fantasy dreamland, mmph mmph, but at what cost? To what end, hmph hmph?"
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium
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