by Treadwell » Thu Feb 19, 2015 4:51 am
"Mmph."
A moment to calm down from a brief outburst, to let fingers lazily drum atop stomach, to breathe yet another pursy, deflating breath. A moment to flap the handkerchief loose again to dab at naturally wet eyes.
"Glenn, I grow very tired of this fuss and bother. You wrote me implying that we might come to terms with each other here, or that's how I understood it, hrm, after not seeing each other for some time, but you and I seem to be circling each other."
Final mash of handkerchief to eyes, and pulling away of cloth to rest on middle.
"So let me shush about all of that and simply state the facts as they are. Myrken Wood is in a mess. The Council isn't trusted to act independently without its whims being second guessed or restricted, and, mmph, likewise, I am not trusted to act independently without the Lady Warden's approval. Short of my taking some monumental leave of Myrken Wood to go, mmph, tether myself to Chedwry's court and grow close enough to make a formal complaint or request, I have no real option available to me--and neither does Myrken."
Another drum of fingers on gut, with left hand still loosely holding hankerchief.
"Yes, I enjoy a good day's sloth--a warm bed or rocking chair, mmph, a large meal, time with my wife and our children. However, this manner of sloth I cannot abide. We--all of Myrken, mmph--sit here stagnant and restrained, Glenn. It reminds me of my sow, Pinky. What she knows in life is birth, food, water, muddy slop, and the fence posts of her pen, mmph, and she is quite content, but her station in life, hm, will never change. Myrken Wood is like Pinky: charming and loving once you know her, mmph, and perfectly happy to exist as she is, mostly, but not getting anywhere, not truly doing much of note in her own little pen, and never, never being seen as anything other than a fat, lazy, fetid pig by outsiders, mmph. That must change. While you and I sit here bickering about past offenses and slights, though, nothing changes about Myrken Wood."
Faint wheeeee for breath.
"So, Mister Burnie, I am sad to admit that I haven't any idea of how to please you or to change your mind about me, and I haven't many more notions than that, hmph, on how to convince the powers that be to treat us much differently from what they're doing now. What I need to know, sir, is what you feel we ought to do about, ooooh, any of this--our relationship as friends and colleagues, or Myrken's place relative to the Crown. Hm hm? I put myself at your wisdom and your mercy. Do speak."
"Looks like a table to me. Do you think it could hold up someone as bulbous as Treadwell?" -- Dr. Brennan, Myrken Wood Rememdium Edificium