A Lazy Myrken Night

A Lazy Myrken Night

Postby Treadwell » Tue Jun 30, 2015 4:37 pm

Late night, 30 June 215 A.R.

The Treadwell estate.

The master bedroom.


"He's a year old tomorrow, Aloisius."

It's a simple fact, softly stated by the mother of one Harvell Urias Treadwell, who sleeps just as softly by the bed his parents share.

"And those pajamas you wear look obscenely silly tonight."

It's another fact, this statement, as Alice addresses her husband beside her, who is mostly covered by the fluffy, blue blanket on their bed. A one-piece jumper, long-sleeved, with yellow and black horizontal stripes certainly fits the description of "silly."

"They are comfortable, mmph, and they fit me. This is better than my going about in nothing, hm hm? But dearest. . . Harvey?"

"What of him, Aloisius?"

The Lord Steward brings an arm up from the sheets and huffily worms closer to his wife in the darkness, closing around her shoulders in a squeeze.

"Does it trouble you that I have said, mmph, many times that he is to be the mayor of Colmouth one day? Do you believe it, dearest?"

"How can I, Aloisius? I am not one of your Tubbians like Langley or Jack," her hushed voice notes, "so I think you a husband, a man, not a god. You have shown and told me many, many things, love, but I am a normal, human woman, and, given what I see of you, and what I have seen of you. . . ."

A frown creases the male Treadwell's fleshy face in the dark.

"Aloisius, I have seen you naked, exhausted, sleepy, hurt, drunken, and ill to the stomach from gorging yourself at supper. How can I think you divine when what I see and know is not?"

Lips peck a kiss, disrupting the frown that quivers the cheeks.

"I know that all of our children are healthy, fat, and safe, when many younger women have buried theirs or cannot feed them right. That is a blessing. I know you speak of things they will do in their futures. It is. . . pleasant, Aloisius, to hear such things, but I shall have to see them to know them for the truth."

"Mmph. Very well, dearest. I shall accept that, I suppose, hm hm?"

Moments pass in the unlit bedroom. The husband gives a sleepy, soft yawn, which is only shortly after followed by its mate from the wife.

"And you still think that I am dressed rather silly, hmph?"

"Dear Aloisius, most of your wardrobes are filled with such brilliant monsters as to make the eyes ache."

"Then it is good that this is night and that you cannot see me, hm hm?"

"Quite good! Now, Aloisius?"

"Lovey?"

"Shush, dearest, and let us go to bed!"
"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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