It's a thankless job, but someone's got to do it.

Re: It's a thankless job, but someone's got to do it.

Postby Glenn » Sun Aug 26, 2018 12:49 pm

"On one level you're right," Burnie started. He didn't just start, he continued on without hesitation, not wanting the bird to take back control of the conversation even with just a little quip. There was an energy to him now, a slowly flickering flame as if someone had started a long-dormant forge. "There are a lot of ways to know you're alive, Benedict," see, a name was useful. That sentence wouldn't have been the same without a name. Why did none of these beings understand that? "And a lot of ways to stay fighting. Sometimes I drive them off, the ones that'd destroy me or the people I love, loved. With her, maybe you're right. I'm driving the milestone further. Where you're wrong is this: because of that, we're actually getting somewhere."

There was a temptation to double back to the loved people bit. There was still Myrken even if it no longer loved him. On second thought, it wasn't worth lingering on, so he pressed forward instead. "I don't think talking would have gotten us this far. I don't think a thousand letters would have done it. We had to go through this. It took some gestures. We could have been more careful about it, maybe. We almost certainly would have been if you nosed in on it. We gained two years in two days; she's just afraid it'll all fade away like fairy gold now that she's not gesturing at me. It won't."

He seemed so sure of it, which had to be a little strange since he didn't seem entirely sure of what had happened. "You missed a lot, Benedict." Names, useful. "Not just over the last few days, just by not reading the letters. You have the most important part of it," and to his credit, he'd hold eye contact for this though there wasn't exactly pride beaming from his generally forgettable face. "Lots of punching up and getting stomped down. That's the bad experiences. Lots of magic. The good experiences aren't much better in retrospect. My lady, for years, had a connection with my mind. She died while we were connected. She went mad before that. It wasn't perfect beforehand, not as my own mind goes. So, I'm vulnerable to all this and it affects me differently. That's one thought."

It wasn't an easy one. None of this was easy. "I think, no, I'm sure, that if that's the case, I'll be able to build up some tolerance to it. If I just get used to her particular sort of glamourie, I'll build up resistance to these side effects, maybe even some sort of resonance with what she does in general. Instead of ending up out of my gourd, it might be better, more vivid, more collaborative?" He shook his head quickly, trying not to think too far down that road. What was important was that he built up some sort of resistance, that she could be herself around him without either of them having a problem.

"That's only half of it though. Look, when things was worst for me, absolutely worst, I was without restraint. Ever since I recovered from that and she died, I've been holding back. I've tried to be careful so I didn't hurt anyone, so that if I wasn't sane, at least I'd be constrained." It was meant to be brave, or at least necessary, but it felt cowardly. Still, he didn't break eye contact. Either it had been more shameful with her for some reason or he had truly needed that shoulder to ground his mind. "Before, I'd hurt a lot of people even if I meant well. Especially. There was no line, no limit. I was broken in an abnormal way, not just in the normal human way. Because of my reaction to what she did, everything I was trying to hold in came bursting out. Whatever I was then, a few years ago, that's not who I am now. I didn't know for sure until then. Now I do, so I can start to try to figure things out. That's not all of it, but it's a big part. I don't think she understands it though." As nice as it would have been to hold that against her, a last sentence stumbled from behind, catching up just before the raven might speak again. "I'm still figuring it out."
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Re: It's a thankless job, but someone's got to do it.

Postby Niabh » Sun Aug 26, 2018 2:25 pm

"No," said the raven. "You're getting somewhere. Good for you, huzzah for personal growth and all, but what does she get out of this, the pleasure of your company? You're interestin' but you ain't that special." He had his own deeply depressing theory about what she was getting out of this, or what she thought she would get, but at the moment he was more interested in what Glenn came up with. "This shit you're talkin' about...that doesn't work with people. Hell, it doesn't even work with me. You pretty it all up but what you're talkin' about here sounds like danglin' a carrot in front of a mule."

The raven fell silent a moment, head atilt, glittering eye focused elsewhere, as if listening to something Glenn had almost said.

Then he crrrled and spread his enormous wings, far too large and too grand to even fit into a sitting room, and made a quick sail to a shelf, where he scuffed at his head with a clawed foot. The bookshelf had been a mistake, leaving him glowering down on Glenn, but the uppermost shelf was the only place he fit. "You really feel like somethin' happened here, huh?"

It was less a question, more a resigned statement. Clearly, he did feel it, and was--by Glenn's conservative standards, anyway--practically humming with eagerness to get to the next stage. No wonder the lady was fussy over him. Maybe she'd foreseen this energy. It was exactly the sort of thing she went for. The raven's grim sense of resignation deepened. She saw potential and life; he saw a stoat in the twitchy, hyperactive middle ground of hydrophobia.

"I think she understands more than she understands. That's not me talkin' up my lady, mind. Kind of the opposite, really. You I think are blind as a damn bat. You start messin' with glamourie, it's gonner make it worse. Glamourie is about tearing down the little part of your mind that knows if you're rememberin' something or just imagining it. I'll tell you one thing, though: if you're gonner go through with this, do not spring anything on her." Now the height helped; he could throw his shadow over Glenn's face and make it serious. Gestures. "Same goes for her. Don't let her spring anything on you. Make sure she knows it. And listen to her; don't let this get like the name thing again. This is your head you're talkin' about here, man. You need that."
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Re: It's a thankless job, but someone's got to do it.

Postby Glenn » Sun Aug 26, 2018 2:53 pm

Up until now, Burnie had been someone who could well be reasoned with. He had an affectated distance for most of this, as if it was something to pass the time. Yes, there had been his fevered night in Myrken and the aftermath of that. There had been some heated arguments but they came from a place of ego or principle. This was different. The bird towered up over him and Glenn did not recoil. He met him dead on, rising. The difference was obvious. He was invested. It was personal now.

"Of the hard questions we've got on the table, what she's getting out of this isn't that hard at all. Do you even know her?" For a moment, the briefest moment, he doubted. Her kind played tricks. They reveled in them. This would be a long game, to contrive every emotional outburst, every hint of something real, all to manipulate him. At some point, you had to take things on faith or nothing in this world was worth anything. He'd trust her, not that she or even Benedict would have an inkling of that decision in this moment.

Glenn's voice softened a bit. His gaze softened even more. "How many people in the last few years has she told much of anything to, Benedict? That's the thing right now. I don't know how much you know and since you don't know how much she told me, we can't speak freely of this. There was something I needed. She's given it to me. There's a lot that she needs, a lot. Going home is the least of it. It's the start of it. It'll just drop her back where she was before, with a bunch of older queens from younger families not giving her the real time of day, no matter how much she thinks she deserves it, and a queen on top it all that'd be happy to give her something else entirely."

They were deep into the wank now and there was no stopping Glenn Burnie, no matter how many times the raven decided to fly across the room dramatically. He would pace a bit now, back and forth, as if that'd some how make the exchange even. "I spoke far more truth than I would have wanted, given the chance, but more than that, I listened. She had the advantage and that let her press it. She got her words in, more than I think she intended to share." If he was annoyed or offended at the beginning of this, he was all the more so by the end. "I lived for almost ten years with her in my mind. I lived a year of my life not sure if I was in a dream or not every time I woke up. I understand this. I understand this better than almost any human could. Glamourie is going to mess with me. Either I get a handle on it or it's going to be the end of me. This is the way." Annoyed as he was, the knew the bird was invested too. He wasn't blind to that at least. "I promised her that I wouldn't do anything without talking to her first. So no one will be springing anything on anyone, okay? Not even after I get back to Myrken."
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Re: It's a thankless job, but someone's got to do it.

Postby Niabh » Tue Aug 28, 2018 12:20 pm

Glenn's take on the lady's needs was a little more straightforward than the raven's theory, but somehow less reassuring and--by pure coincidence, surely--a lot more serviceable to Glenn’s particular needs. Still, wanker had a point. "Yeah. I know she's lonely. I know it's hard." The black wingtips drooped, scrawling snake tracks in the thick dust atop the bookshelf. "It's a shitty thing to take advantage of someone when it's personal like that. When it's something they need."

He was counting on the decency of a tultharian who had openly admitted to having no conscience up until recently. Still he had a bit of hope. The softening of Glenn's voice told him, the fact that he had stood up, gave him a little bit of hope that at least Glenn understood. But understanding didn't necessarily translate into sympathy. Particularly if there was something you wanted hanging on it. Sometimes in the face of that, you just forgot there was another person back there.

His head drew between his wing joints, neck seeming to vanish. "See, that statement right there? More wank," he grouched. "You get so caught up in this stuff. It's not going to be the end of anyone. You're not gonner die without it. Worse comes to worse, you can just solve the problem by steering clear of her. It's that easy. Unless you can't anymore. In which case you got a whole other problem, amadán."

Slowly his neck extended once more. "You're really goin' back to Myrken, then?" He sounded surprised--and, on the heels of his last statement, worried. "Wait, does that mean no more letters?"
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Re: It's a thankless job, but someone's got to do it.

Postby Glenn » Sat Sep 01, 2018 9:53 am

The problem with decency was that it was a relative thing. Sympathy was not, but there was a necessary selfishness to it. You had to relate. Part of relating was reliving and part of reliving was focusing on your own experiences. There were lots of reasons to care about someone and even more ways to. "We're likely both taking advantage of one another. Mutual advantage, agreed upon advantage. I wish she'd go along with her promise and not use a glamourie without asking me first, or at least warning me, but I understand it's a bit like breathing. I can't warn her before I talk or write every time, not without talking or writing to warn her in the first place."

The raven was much worse at hiding his emotions than the human, even if they were far harder to read without classification and study. Even so recently unveiled, Glenn had only paced a bit, hadn't even thrown anything since the day before. The worst of it had been when Fionn did what she did, especially when she compounded one dose with another, but this wasn't then. Sleep seemed to help, though there was a difference between help and a return to how he had been a week before. "She gave me what I needed without me asking for it, without having any idea what she was doing. I'm going to give her very little credit for it." Then, because he was Glenn Burnie and this was a contentious point for more than just the raven and the queen, he spelled it out even further. "She showed me what I needed to see without knowing what it was or that I need to see it or even that she was doing it." That bit of wank expertly accomplished, he moved on to more practical matters. "As for what we want, a lot of it is the same sort of thing. Unfortunately, it's all twisted about in what we need, if not for ourselves or one another then for our people. At the core of it, the very core, we need our people not to die due to things already in motion, generally things no fault of our own.

"Me?" There was that smile again, and it may not have looked so strange a decade before, but now it was as if Burnie had stolen someone else's face and pulled it over his own. "I'm the sort who believes that there can be a happy medium between those wants and those needs. I'm a creature of compromise, even if it's usually a compromise of my own devising," but then at least he could admit that. Compromise did not necessarily require consent, just mutual sacrifice and mutual gain. All that said, and so much of it felt surprisingly good to say after years of very little feeling good at all, he'd offer that tiny spark of hope. "I care for her well-being, Benedict. She's a friend and a neighbor both. She's younger than me under pressures I know a thing or two about, but I'm fairly well broken, too, and I can admit that as well. Plus she's more powerful than me, but I care about her and I'd like her healthy and happy, and for me to be a part of that. If you know nothing else about her and me and you, know that."

He had said a lot, some of it very directly and some of it not at all. Obviously, that gave the former governor a certain right to ignore some of what the raven said, just the bits about wank and need. He'd covered so much of that ground after all. Some of it he'd all but salted over. "There will be letters," he reassured. "I may not be able to see her as often as she'd like, and it's a good way to get certain thoughts across. It's helping her grow. I won't allow her to run from it. Plus, I might need a favor or two from you, if you're allowed. One could be fairly soon if you're willing. She's not the only one I send letters to after all."

At that, Burnie would move anew, would start back towards the window as he had before. "I almost did call you in before, Benedict, because she'd somehow lost her satchel. I think it might be some game she's playing, and I wanted you in here because of that. If it was a game, she wouldn't play it on you too. If it wasn't a game, you might have seen something or had some good ideas what might have happened to it. Any thoughts either way?" He'd ask, looking not to the raven but instead down to the place where she had left it, where he had waved his hand before.
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Re: It's a thankless job, but someone's got to do it.

Postby Niabh » Mon Sep 03, 2018 6:34 am

“I like how you just say ‘it,’ by the way,” said the raven. “You needed it, she gave you it, you didn’t ask for it, she didn’t know she gave you it. You talk all around it but you’ll never say what it is, will you?” There was as much power in denying something a name as in granting it. You ganged with Tuatha, you knew about naming things. Benedict was, as were most of the raven’s possessions, something shiny he’d picked up from a stray thread of conversation one day; it didn’t apply to him. He felt comfortable in letting Glenn use it, if that was what the man needed to direct this conversation.

“Boiled down, needing is selfish. When you need something you don’t give a damn about anyone else because you’re scared of not gettin’ it, scared of losin’ it if you do get it, scared someone’s going to hold it over your head or use it to jerk you around. Gets to where people’ll convince themselves it was just something they wanted, even when it’s something they can’t live without, because wanting’s safer. Wanting’s just sort of arbitrary. You can enjoy it while it’s there because you know if it’s gone tomorrow, you’ll live.”

This little speech was rapidly growing vague enough to qualify as wank and he really didn’t feel like encouraging it too much further. “Point is, most people need stupid things. Maybe not stupid, but simple. She needs to know she’s not alone. You need to know you’re important. The best most people can do is take something selfish and try to spread it around a little, but you two take it to some whole different level and try to justify a little ordinary selfishness by draggin’ everyone into it. You’ve gotter save everybody and she’s gotter have everybody. You need to know you saved ’em, she needs to know she won’t lose ’em. In the end it’s the same damn thing. That’s where you two match up.”

He fluffed himself, somehow smugly. “Don’t worry about the favor. She already told me I was on call if you ever asked.” Actually the conversation had been more her teasing about how long Glenn would be able to resist asking the raven to deliver a message here and there, but the raven managed, with admirable restraint, to leave out that part.

The raven scooted along the edge of the shelf and hopped off, wings arched to cushion the drop—not quite a flight or a free-fall—and strutted with interest to the spot on the carpet where Glenn’s eyes had fixed. “Don’t play coy,” he said. “I know what you’re askin’. If she’s prankin’ with you, I’m not in on it.”

Bending close, he peered with one blue eye, then the other, and finally plucked out a tiny loose thread from the carpet and nibbled it nervously. “All her stuff’s in it. Her medicines and that. Did you look for it?”
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Re: It's a thankless job, but someone's got to do it.

Postby Glenn » Mon Sep 03, 2018 2:23 pm

"Life is rarely boiled down," yes, the raven could reason with Burnie, but only to a degree. Glenn had lost everything and all he had left now were a few old connections, ones that were the ruins of what they once had been, an excess of memories (even more than he had the week before), one raven and one fairy princess (maybe half a Wynsee too, but best not to skew the balance with fool's gold). Those few things on the one side and all of his ideals and his ideals on the other. Those personal connections barely had a chance. "It's complicated. We're complicated. This is complicated. It makes for a richness. Some of what you say is true but it's only some of it, and if you judge it the most important bit, it becomes so, and then where will we be?"

Still, it had been quite the speech for the bird and who was Glenn to contest it completely. Suddenly he wished he had a drink so he could toast him, or a hat so he could doff it. Instead, he'd smile, not a wistful or wry one, but a playful one nonetheless. "See?" The smile reached both his eyes and his voice. "We're a good team, she and I."

And she had granted him a favor already (or allowed for the raven to do so), so whatever warmth he felt would be enhanced all the more. "Thank you. Good neighbor, all that. I'll use it sparingly outside of town. When it's important," spoken like a man who already had something in mind, some sense of anticipation or even anxiousness that had nothing to do with his lady. Things had changed, indeed.

They moved on to the satchel and medicines sounded more dire than her letters or journal or what not. "Sort of," which was as close to sheepish as he ever got, for she had almost, almost successfully chastised him for his attempts to look. A flash of memory brought him quickly out of that, though. "She fed you something from out of there. Do you think you can find it?" He had spent time researching fairies but not ravens. "The idea that either her enemies or mine would sneak into my home and take just that and nothing else while we were on our carriage ride is unlikely at best. If not, there are inquiries we can make." There was some concern, yes, but it was instantly obvious that Glenn would be quick to shift the onus of "we" from the two of them both to solely upon the bird's quite broad wingspan.
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Re: It's a thankless job, but someone's got to do it.

Postby Niabh » Tue Sep 04, 2018 7:23 am

“It’s not complicated. I just explained why it’s not complicated. I figgered you’d complain more about havin’ similar motives.” He did, in fact, believe this of Glenn, but it hardly seemed the time to argue about it. The smile was real. That was the important thing.

The raven spread his wings and gave a little bob, not quite a bow, over being named a good neighbor, then briskly returned to business. “Yeah. Just remember: people here notice a big-ass bird. I can be discreet, but it don’t stop people from talkin’ about it afterwards. I’d rather not tie your business back to the lady’s business or vice versa. Easier for you both that way.”

Mostly because he couldn’t resist, he dipped until his head was nearly flat on the floor and waddled bravely into the dusty space beneath the chair. His voice sounded boxed. “Crrk. I can only find things if they’re alive. I don’t know about your enemies but hers probably wouldn’t come all this way and leave without killin’ anybody, so you’re probably safe enough.”

He backed out of the hollow, dismissing a cobweb from his face with a shiver. “By ‘we’ you mean me, right? What’s the plan?”
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Re: It's a thankless job, but someone's got to do it.

Postby Glenn » Wed Sep 05, 2018 5:09 am

"I don't entirely agree," said a man who knew when he was in danger of going around a circle unintentionally (as opposed to all the times he did it intentionally), "that what she wants and what I want are the same, but similar, different sides of a coin, or different pages in the same book? Maybe that. In that case, why wouldn't I smile, Benedict? It's nice to know that we have such rich and fertile common ground to break bread upon." He was also mixing metaphors which was a potent weapon with her and somewhat less so with the bird. So he would avoid circles, would trade in mixed metaphors, would smile warmly. He'd even punctuate all of it with bluntness. "This isn't a year and a half ago. She and I are friends. We're allies. We're neighbors. We've had each other's names. We've insulted and glorified one another. We've told stories and made deals. We've danced. I know her tale and she knows mine. I know her fears and I'd stand against them." The smile faded. His voice softened. The shake of his head was almost wistful. "You need to catch up. We can't have you trailing behind. We both need you right along with us. Tell truth, criticize, whatever, but keep up."

Then a strange thing happened. At the word discreet, Burnie winced. He winced and he shook his head. "She'll forgive me this once, after ten years. I know what you are, Benedict. You're worth it."

There was an insult and the oddest compliment. That was about all the time they had before it came to the matter of the satchel. "And none of my enemies, so much as I have any, would come in here and not go through my things. Also, no thief off the street would come in, take her bag and not my valuables." Burnie advanced, if only a little. He had a notion to wipe the rest of the dust off the bird, but they just didn't have that sort of relationship. Instead he stopped a few feet away. "I employ a number of wayward youths in the area to keep an eye on the street for me. A pittance for a useful if often unreliable service. Given their particular nature, I think they'll respond better to you than me this one time." Or, more likely, he just didn't want to go talk to them. "Moreover, If someone is planning further mischief or worse, I want people talking about you to dissuade them."
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Re: It's a thankless job, but someone's got to do it.

Postby Niabh » Thu Sep 06, 2018 4:16 am

"Things are weird Here between me and her," the raven admitted. "I'm not her raven--her personal raven, I mean. Least I wasn't before. I worked for the lady, but not with her, if that makes sense. Her raven's someone else. She's all like--" and the raven's voice deepened to a husky, feminine range, rich as plum cake "--'I must go. I am required. I mustn't speak of it' and that. I'm more of what you call a long-ranger." In pride he stretched his broad wings to demonstrate. "Here is different. We talk more. She says she likes havin' someone to speak her own language with. She usually tells me more or less what you two get up to. Like I said, lonely." He fluttered his wings in a small shrug, settling them back against his sides. "That's another thing: normally I wouldn't dare suggest the lady's lonely. I wouldn't dare tell anyone the lady had any feelings about anything at all. She's supposed to be incorruptible. You know better by now, I reckon, so it don't matter as much."

Personally, he felt it probably would matter, sooner or later, but as long as the lady had no objections, he felt comfortable in pursuing his small liberties. The whole odd situation felt like a very serious holiday, with the more superfluous rules of formality suspended in favor of pragmatism.

The raven blinked a few times at Glenn's wincing, but that was as far as he went for curiosity. "You know I'm good for it. They won't even know I can talk, if you'd rather."

Then back to the matter of the satchel, where the raven seemed as baffled as Glenn. "What? You want me to just go around askin' 'em if they saw anything off? Any particular way you want me to play it? All casual, like 'hi, I'm just your typical friendly talkin' raven, you seen anything interesting lately?' or do you want me to go big with it, like 'hark, mortal! I am a wizard who has taken this form to move in secret!'" He managed an ungainly spin, wings spread like a black cloak. "'Tell me all you know or suffer my wrath!' Something like that? Because lemme tell you, if you want to stay under cover, sendin' me out is not the way to do it."
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Re: It's a thankless job, but someone's got to do it.

Postby Glenn » Fri Sep 07, 2018 4:29 am

This was all new information. Burnie was a creature of his own confidence, but he would never deny the raven's role in whatever fellowship he had come to share with the fairy queen. With a less forthcoming intermediary, things would have been much different. Maybe that was the entire point of having such a stoic messenger. Still, no reason to show that openly. Instead he maintained his smile. "I'm sure I would have won her over in the end." He changed direction quickly so as not to allow the bird to contest that statement. "I don't have a great sense of what her court is actually like. I've some sense of the distance between them now, which highlights your importance all the more."

The next bit was getting ahead of things. "No. I want you to talk to her. Just don't let her know how deep I'm in, how deep you think I'm in, that is. Her regard is the narrowest thing in the world, but it's tempered by a curiosity that borders on delight. When the time comes, give her a bit of the one instead of the other."

There were more pressing matters. "Benedict," He rubbed a hand up and down his face, still a bit fatigued from it all. "The major point is that while I think it's both strange and important, after the two days I had, I can't go about talking to a bunch of overeager urchins. Her satchel is important enough. That it's missing is a true mystery with connotations that likely matter. Just talk to them directly. It's the same idea: curiosity and delight. They'll think they're in on some big secret and will want to work with you. Just be yourself and you'll get whatever answers they have."
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Re: It's a thankless job, but someone's got to do it.

Postby Niabh » Fri Sep 07, 2018 6:55 am

The bird let out a tiny cluck somewhere between a disapproving tsk and a chuckle at the remark about winning her over, since he wasn't sure Glenn really had won her over just yet. He wasn't even sure Glenn had been won over, or if he realized he had been, or if he would admit it even if someone put the question to him. There was way too much focus on obscure victories here. It was nice to be appreciated but the raven was more apt to be won by the solid promise of baked goods than by airy flattery.

In lieu of commentary, he instead attended to his latest set of instructions, with a bright chrrp! and a short hop of acknowledgement. "Sure thing. What do you want to tell her? Anything in particular you want me to say if this person asks straight on about you?" The default answer was to claim ignorance on any topic that was not the message at hand. The Courts understood that. Glenn didn't, and the raven didn't feel like explaining it in case he had to employ it against him later on.

But Glenn had never used a courier before; there were some rules he didn't know. "I need an address. Not like, a street address. I already got an inkling where to go, but I need to know what to call her. Whatever name you know her by. That's how this works. And the message. Usually I don't just go around makin' conversation. Same with the kids, unless you really do think of them as 'wayward youths,' in which case you really need to hang around more kids."
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Re: It's a thankless job, but someone's got to do it.

Postby Glenn » Fri Sep 07, 2018 7:28 am

Of course he had met that he'd win over the other raven. He was surprisingly less convinced that he would have won over the Lady without 'Benedict,' whether he turned the other bird or not. None of this was voiced by either part, however.

Instead: "Not yet. It's not necessary yet." Burnie frowned, actually frowned. It wasn't base grumpiness either. He had paced a bit, but now he was moving more quietly, was more reserved, was heading back to his desk. "This is premature. Let's focus on her and the satchel for now. I won't send you in blind, anyway." This was, of course, spoken with the distinct lack of eye contact of someone who would send him in completely and utterly half-blind.

"Can you read a map?" Here was the eye contact. "She was able to follow one, after all." It wasn't as if doubted Fionnoula's ability to pick up new skills here in the human world, but she had shown quite a deficit of understanding of certain notions (and not just tears) even after years here. She'd been able to read his map so perhaps such things existed for couriers even in a land of glamourie.
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Re: It's a thankless job, but someone's got to do it.

Postby Niabh » Fri Sep 07, 2018 1:05 pm

Ravens read eye contact differently. To meet eyes is a challenge or a threat, the act of a rival or a predator. Tones were different; he was more apt to note a change in voice than a shift in posture. That yet sounded almost too casual, in a way that was depressingly typical. "Snowing me gets us both nowhere, wanker. I'd at least like to know if this is the sort of situation where I need to be ready to duck a slingshot or a crossbow or a damn dictionary." Still, he ruffled himself a little, content to move on to the next question.

Uninvited, he joined Glenn, perching with odd delicacy on the edge of the writing desk. The idea of a map was received blank-faced, a matter-of-fact lack of comprehension. "I can't read. I thought I said before. Usually how this works is you tell me the message, I repeat it back when I get there. If you don't want me to know, just write a letter. Urchins probably can't read either. How many of these kids you got? Are they gonner be local, just keepin' an eye on the place?"
Anything can be magic if you're gullible enough.
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Re: It's a thankless job, but someone's got to do it.

Postby Glenn » Sat Sep 08, 2018 7:17 am

"Good luck ducking regard." Burnie muttered, more under his breath than anything else. "We'll get there or we won't. It'll depend on the response i get. I was just asking." He seemed more than ready to get off of this topic, but there was a certain inevitability to all of it that he couldn't avoid. He knew her. He knew what he had sent. He didn't regret the sending. He didn't regret the words. He didn't regret any of it, but there might well be a price. They were past the point of faith, unfortunately. And somewhere past faith flew a talking raven.

Said raven flew to him, and this was a bit of a relief. Work made everything better and this was work he executed with ease. It was a writing desk, one that contained all the tools he needed. Ink was placed to parchment with quick, precise strokes. "This is where we are now," he had placed the representation of his home, no more than a rectangle, at the center of the page. "At this time of day, there's likely a child easily found here, here, here, or there. They'll probably be in a group of there. Just ask them if they've seen anyone come or go during the few hours I was away. If not, ask them to ask about. One or two should do it. Ultimately, it'll be less about me and more about you, so a lack of care in the name of expedience ought to be fine."
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