Penned for Treadwell.

Re: Penned for Treadwell.

Postby Treadwell » Mon Jul 29, 2013 3:58 pm

"For all we know, sir, Governor Burnie is either totally absent, controlled himself, or dead, mmph mmph. Do remember that I was imprisoned by fairies for a year before I managed my release."

He chuckles.

"It horribly frightened their king when he found out the god he was worshipping, mmph mmph, was the true figure of the 'bigling' he'd imprisoned for so long and impersonated, hee hee! But enough on that."

Tready's fingers drum on that flabby middle.

"So my advice, with all that said, is that we move as if we don't know that the Governor is coming back. He might not be, or he might not be soon, mmph mmph. I know of a few in town who hold no love for the situation, hmm hmm, and all of my much beloved followers, few though they are, are reasonably safe, as long as they hold to the faith. We can start there, if we must. I can't, though, just magically wiggle my fat fingers and extend protection to all of the Wood. It just doesn't work that way, mmph mmph."

Fat throat clears heavily, and out flaps a handkerchief to wipe at growing sweat on his face.

"This room, hmm hmm, it gets terribly hot in summer. The sun, you see, keeps it all rather toasty, and, well, being fat, old, and lazy, I don't appreciate getting too warm, hee hee. But I'm not opening that window 'til we're finished."

He reaches out his empty mug to Duquesne.

"Fat, old, and lazy, indeed. Might you fetch me a little more tea from the cabinet, if you don't mind, hmm hmm?"
"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: Penned for Treadwell.

Postby Duquesne » Mon Jul 29, 2013 6:36 pm

"He might be dead, controlled, running from his abdication, or simply imprisoned. Regardless of his state, he is the governor according to law and he must declare himself, whether with his own voice, his state of mind, or by his rotting corpse, and thus he must be found."

The man listens to the Councilor's recollection of previous days and a most peculiar imprisonment. Myrken Wood had hosted a great many odd things, few which were known in other parts of the world -- those parts in which he has spent most of his time in the past. He would never be accustomed to such casual references to mythical creatures in the real world -- he knew of them, knew they lived, but it would always be strange. What is one to do when someone speaks of live dragons, for instance? He shakes his head lightly, clearing images of flitting fairies from his thoughts that he might focus on the present exchange.

"I agree, it is best to be silent on the matter. I intend to look into it personally and will inform you if I discover anything useful." He rises from his chair, but not without tenderness, not without a moment's fleeting weakness. "No one is especially safe, sir, not in this climate. But if you can protect your own, it is appropriate that you do. The rest must suffer or convert, correct?" And the gaze he levels upon the mug is private displeasure, a spirit that murmurs at his mouth-corners when his eyes return to the Councilor who must somehow endure that sweat.

"I am no scullery maid, sir," he states as he leans to the cabinet and withdraws the kettle, that he might fill Treadwell's mug without taking it. "But I am grateful for your time and hospitality. If you learn anything of importance, contact me." He returns the kettle to its place in the cabinet and turns back, offers Treadwell a civil bow in the manner of a gentleman. "I bid you good day, Councilor."

And after appropriate farewells are concluded, the architect departs the church.
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Re: Penned for Treadwell.

Postby Treadwell » Tue Jul 30, 2013 2:19 am

"Good day, and I will certainly let you know if I find anything, myself, mmph mmph!" With the poured tea, and the bow, Treadwell worms his way upright huffily-puffily to bow in return before he plods back to the window to open it anew and wide. He then takes another long shlurrrrrp of his tea, nodding as Duquesne departs.
"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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