Parallels: Fallen Sons

Re: Parallels: Fallen Sons

Postby Glenn » Sat Nov 09, 2013 8:12 am

"It's a quality versus quantity argument, I suppose. There's no single person who better represents Myrken Wood than Agnieszka. That's why we have so much trouble, you know. All of them have a little bit of Agony in them. She just happens to have a whole lot of Myrken in her." He meant to smile in there somewhere, but it simply didn't come. This time, however, the thoughts came more quickly. That was the Glenn Burnie way. He hit a wall and he kept pushing. Then, when that didn't work he found a way around. "It's chess, Cinnabar." And for a moment, there was not a smile, but there was almost a pleading look. "When I'm losing, she's there so I can shake up the board. Some people keep a pawn up their sleeve. I keep an earthquake." And without him the earthquake caused so many casualties.

Now came the smile, a wane, weary thing. "It shouldn't have been me, my friend, but it was, and just like you, I'll live up to my responsibilities. I lost time in there, Cinnabar, more than I knew. You need to buy me some back and then your responsibilities will be lived up to as well, towards me and towards Myrken."

----
"To the Remedium." It was a focus. Getting better wasn't a goal. It was a broad, loose thing. Saving everyone was a broad, loose goal, and while his mind could wrap itself around those things, his body had a harder time at it. "Let's go to the Remedium, Cherny." He started to try to sit up, which was, by all obvious signs, such as the gritting of teeth, pallor that came upon him, and reopening of one's wound, an absolutely terrible idea.
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Re: Parallels: Fallen Sons

Postby Cinnabar » Sat Nov 09, 2013 8:13 am

"You mean she's disruptive, indiscriminate and near-impossible to direct?" A dry grin at that, but with little true humour in it. He waves a hand to set the matter aside, what's left of his meal similarly pushed away a moment later. Agnieszka presents a difficult, almost intractable challenge, and one on which the two of them seem unlikely to agree. Better to save their breath for now.

"I'll do what I can. And find out what I can, too. In the meantime you don't need me nursemaiding you, hm? You know what's likely in store, and the strength you'll need to see it through." The strength the young man so manifestly lacks for now, wasted and gaunt after weeks of wandering along Golben's tangled paths.

"There's always the possibility that they're managing adequately well without you. You might have more time than you think."

A glance for the soup bowl as he stands, checking how much remains, and a nod of something like approval. "Call for more, if you can manage it. I've some letters to write."
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Re: Parallels: Fallen Sons

Postby Cherny » Sat Nov 09, 2013 8:13 am

The knight's efforts have the boy lunging forwards in haste, thin hands pushing at his shoulders to urge him back, to keep him from such a foolish endeavour. "N-no! No, you, you c-can't just yet. N-not yet." Less a command than a plea, unwilling to see the youth injure himself further.

"You've to get b-better first. Just, just enough s-so you can walk. Alright?" A grimace that might be meant as a reassuring smile, fear and concern clear in the squire's gaze. "Just a b-bit longer - a, a d-day or two. I'll b-bring you some f-food and, and medicine, alright? But you n-need to rest. P-please."
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Re: Parallels: Fallen Sons

Postby Glenn » Sat Nov 09, 2013 8:14 am

Cinnabar was both young and old in so many ways. Then again, so was Glenn, even more so now after his time in Golben, after his loss. Still, Calomel was of a different generation. Burnie likely looked a little older than him now, even, but he had been a teenager when they first met. He had been Agnieszka's age, her contemporary. It only stood to reason that perhaps he would see things as more personal and visceral than the older man. Still, he would not press his argument. There would be much need for that in the future and he only had so much effort to go around now.

"You've mentioned a reckoning, Cinnabar. You've mentioned anger and hate. Aloisius can handle the simple needs of statecraft, but he cannot move the hearts of men. You can't use blood to wash the slate clean. Myrken only makes more problems for itself down the line whenever it tries." There was nothing to do but get better, at least enough to write, at least enough to meet privately with others. Most of all, he needed time and his friend promised to try to buy him that. It was not the only thing he had spent himself on for Glenn recently. "Thank you, Cinnabar. If I haven't said it yet, I am saying it now. Thank you."

----
The young knight did not know the concept of quitting. He did not know the concept of stopping. There were people out there that needed him. He was to be the glue to hold it all together, to represent the very best of his lady's ideals, but he could not do that from the bed. In this entire world, there was nothing that could stop him, save, perhaps, for the honest care and concern of Cherny. The boy had come so far and now, with a pained frown, Gahald would look to him, sweat across his brow, fever in his eyes.

The boy had lost much. Myrken had lost much. Elliot rushing to his death would make things worse, not better. "Alright, Cherny," he finally dropped down, shutting those eyes in an agony that was only partially physical. He could endure this as well. He could find patience for the sake of them all. "Alright. If you think that is what must be done. But soon. I need to get there soon. i need to get better."
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