[Quotefile] Of Mice and Scotch
(This is a collection of highlights from a large log. Glancing over them, it's mostly all funny and unrevealing, but if someone wants a quote removed, let me know on the MUSH.)
"Stacks," Addison says. "Pathological stacks of mouse bits."
--
Gerard says, "What, you're actually happier that he's to be talking to dead
people and not live mice?"
"Ghosts won't bite me," Erasmus quips.
Gerard says, "The deuce you say!"
--
Addison decides the cigarette is really, truly necessary. A quick drag, and
then, "Yes, sir. I speak to the dead." Then, he tacks on, "All the time. They
are usually in pots."
--
Gerard says, "My staff is largely comprised of drunks and whores. It turns out
they're not much good at proclaiming anything but their own immediate
intents."
--
Gerard looks pleased. "Bashing walls. That's my kind of magic." He hefts a
pickaxe and then, somewhat gingerly, offers one to Llewella as well.
Erasmus looks pained, and advances to Llewella. "Highness, please, allow me..."
Llewella accepts a pickaxe from Gerard with a nod. She turns politely to
Erasmus. "You are not, Commander, about to fret that a lady is going to sully
her hands? Because I have a pickaxe and you're in my way."
Erasmus steps back again. "By your leave."
Gerard gives Erasmus a sympathetic look. The kind of sympathetic look that
comes from centuries of being related to Llewella.
--
Addison needs a second cigarette for this. He lights up a second one, leaving
the first in something that actually does look like an appropriate
receptical, and ventures forward through the hole created by Llewella and
Gerard, a mental note not to mess with Royalty with pickaxes. He has a whole
rolodex of mental notes. He gets covered in dust and bits of falling plaster
as he peers in the darkness and says, "How very strange." Another few
heartbeats. "This is very, very odd. Stacks of mouse parts. Who stacks mouse
parts in a wall?" And then, after a small prod, "A pile of rotting, dead
mouse meat. A pile of bone. A pile of fur. Very tidy. A mouse serial killer."
Gerard mouths, "Barking mad" silently to Erasmus.
Addison adds, out loud, mostly to himself, "Who stalks mice, murders them,
dismembers them, and leaves their bits in piles in the wall?"
Erasmus gives Gerard a wide-eyed look, then resumes his default attentive one.
"Shall I find some tiny bags to collect evidence," he asks, patiently.
Llewella squints. "Ritual?" she asks Addison. "Some sort of magic gathering mice
killing ritual?"
Gerard says, "Is there, ah, much magic in mice?"
Gerard says, "I need more scotch."
--
The door behind Erasmus opens and two Hounds tumble out in haste. "One Princess
Distraction operation... failure, sir," one man says. The door shuts on more
talking. The Commander smiles benignly. "I shall have to ask the Prince
Regent, but I will ask you to come back another time. I assure you, his
possessions are safe."
--
Erasmus returns, looking homicidally calm. "Prince Regent?"
Corwin says, "Commander?"
"There is a whelp of Prince Eric's outside, wishing to ensure that all of you
are not in here stealing his father's hosery. I have deferred him to you
about entry," Erasmus replies evenly.
Addison stares in his glass, and tries to imagine why veritable Gods would
steal a man's hosery, except if it was extremely, unbelievably funny.
--
Llewella says, "And, here's another question." She leans against one of the
ragged edges of the hole in Flora's otherwise lovely wall, "Why did they want
Eric *alive*?"
Flora says, "Ritual sacrifice?" She's helpful that way. "Or perhaps the person
or persons thought it was a rescue mission."
Llewella says, "And these mice gave their lives valiantly and squeakishly that
Eric might escape, for the good of the realm?"
Flora says, "Or they were..." She glances at Gerard. "Or, er, they were, ah,
gnawing on him."
Gerard's voice gains a bit of thunder. "No one gnawed on Eric on my watch."
--
Gerard is chatting with his brother and sisters, companionably, a pickaxe over
his shoulder and a scotch in his hand. Addison is with them, smoking and
drinking. There seems to be a hole smashed into one wall, and there's plenty
of dust on Llewella and Gerard.
--
Jaeger's first words are directed to Gerard. "Uncle. Why are you smashing the
hell out of my father's rooms and possessions?"
Gerard answers, genially, "Well, the room really. It's not like I went looking
for his favorite vase to smash." He nods at Addison. "This fellow here, who
is a passable drinker, a snappy dresser, and mad as a hatter, has led us to a
mysterious motley of murdered mice."
--
Addison says in Dulcinea's general direction, "I'm sorry, Dulcinea. I apologize
for my lack of manners, but I misplaced them a glass of scotch ago. I've
found very strangely dead mice in the walls of the room. I do not know if you
can talk to the spirits I can see. It does not make too much sense, but
perhaps we can work something out."
Dulcinea cringes a little, "Really, Lord Addison. Scotch. And no of course I
cannot speak to anything dead. Since they're dead." She glances at the wall,
"Did someone spirit the King away through there... with mice?"
"Well..." Addison says, and ponders getting out of the chair and then thinks
against it for now, "I can speak to the dead mice, Dulcinea, but I do not
speak mouse as a matter of course."
Dulcinea says, "Well, I speak mouse, but not dead mouse."
Flora takes up the scotch bottle and with the most pleasant hostess smile ever
asks, "Scotch anyone?"
"Please, Highness," Erasmus says immediately.
Cyrus says, "If it's not too much trouble," with the tone of a drowning man
reaching for a life preserver.
Corwin returns the glance to Gerard, then walks over to Flora, polishing off
his drink on the way.
Dulcinea says, "I'll have a glass," ladylike.
Flora says, "Wonderful," oozing charm. Fresh glasses are filled and offered,
and empty glasses replenished. "There. Now everyone has something in hand to
help the mice go down easy."
--
Erasmus speaks up after a healthy gulp, "How is Lord Addison with squeaking?
Couldn't he just... imitate what he hears?"
"Dismember mice. They are well and dismembered and their bits sorted into neat
little piles. Could be tagged, but no one left behind little signs," Addison
says. Then he adds, "Another glass of scotch and I may be able to speak
anything."
Erasmus lifts his glass to Addison, saying, "You're a better man than I then,"
and drinks.
--
"The dead usually tell me, 'Stand up straighter' and 'wear a tie' and 'open
collars are for loose and moralless men,' so I cannot relate to speaking with
animals," Addison says.
Dulcinea tells Addison, "Mice are interested in food and," she clears her
throat, "A few other things."
Flora lifts her voice, "Will someone _please_ just try to talk to the bloody
mice!"
Llewella lifts a finger. "Perhaps I am phrasing this incorrectly. Talk to the
mice. Please talk to them now before my nephew grabs a pickaxe and starts
screaming about the desecration of his father's chambers. Hurry it up."
--
Random says disbelievingly, "Uh, Corwin. You're presiding over an investigation
of mice?"
Jaeger addresses Random. "I am told it makes more sense if you drink more."
Corwin says, "Define 'presiding.'"
Random says carefully, in a way that implies that sanity is disintegrating all
around him, and that he is soon to agree fervently with Jaeger, "What have
you, uh, discovered from the mice, Corwin?"
Corwin says, "Random, I'm just waiting for the executive summary."
--
Gerard says, "Well, even if it was a small amount of water, this place is dusty
as a nun's smallclothes."
--
Erasmus pipes up again, saying blandly, "I imagine those mouse parts are going
to start to smell shortly, now that they've been exposed to the air."
Gerard says, "Commander, I envy you your duties not at all."
Gerard takes his farewell, with that, and slips out of the royal suite.
Erasmus looks long suffering again. "Yes, Highness."
--
Addison sags in to a nearby chair, and looks at the big hole in the wall. "I am
afraid," Addison says, "that every night in the Palace will be Mice in the
Walls night."
"Not on my watch," Erasmus growls, stepping forward to survey how many bags to
get for the mice bits.
--
Flora draws a breath and tries to recap, "So there are no spirits in here to
tell us what happened to Eric, the mice know very little, and we might have a
ritual magician who specializes in mice blood sacrifice roaming around."
Flora says, "Does that about sum it up?"
Cyrus says, "Well, when you put it that way..."
Cyrus drinks.
--
A couple of the palace staff enter the room, escorted by Hounds, with little
trash tongs and spatulas.
Erasmus supervises, in order to file a complete report to Corwin. The staff
pull out small paper boxes used to deliver quick meals about the palace,
folded with little metal handles. They begin scooping and picking up the
mouse parts and placing them in the boxes, sorted properly, with all the
diligence of a forensics team.
Erasmus leans as the staff finish up, murmuring, "Now be sure you label those
boxes properly and put them where I mentioned." They nod and head off,
bearing the boxes to... somewhere no doubt secure.
"Stacks," Addison says. "Pathological stacks of mouse bits."
--
Gerard says, "What, you're actually happier that he's to be talking to dead
people and not live mice?"
"Ghosts won't bite me," Erasmus quips.
Gerard says, "The deuce you say!"
--
Addison decides the cigarette is really, truly necessary. A quick drag, and
then, "Yes, sir. I speak to the dead." Then, he tacks on, "All the time. They
are usually in pots."
--
Gerard says, "My staff is largely comprised of drunks and whores. It turns out
they're not much good at proclaiming anything but their own immediate
intents."
--
Gerard looks pleased. "Bashing walls. That's my kind of magic." He hefts a
pickaxe and then, somewhat gingerly, offers one to Llewella as well.
Erasmus looks pained, and advances to Llewella. "Highness, please, allow me..."
Llewella accepts a pickaxe from Gerard with a nod. She turns politely to
Erasmus. "You are not, Commander, about to fret that a lady is going to sully
her hands? Because I have a pickaxe and you're in my way."
Erasmus steps back again. "By your leave."
Gerard gives Erasmus a sympathetic look. The kind of sympathetic look that
comes from centuries of being related to Llewella.
--
Addison needs a second cigarette for this. He lights up a second one, leaving
the first in something that actually does look like an appropriate
receptical, and ventures forward through the hole created by Llewella and
Gerard, a mental note not to mess with Royalty with pickaxes. He has a whole
rolodex of mental notes. He gets covered in dust and bits of falling plaster
as he peers in the darkness and says, "How very strange." Another few
heartbeats. "This is very, very odd. Stacks of mouse parts. Who stacks mouse
parts in a wall?" And then, after a small prod, "A pile of rotting, dead
mouse meat. A pile of bone. A pile of fur. Very tidy. A mouse serial killer."
Gerard mouths, "Barking mad" silently to Erasmus.
Addison adds, out loud, mostly to himself, "Who stalks mice, murders them,
dismembers them, and leaves their bits in piles in the wall?"
Erasmus gives Gerard a wide-eyed look, then resumes his default attentive one.
"Shall I find some tiny bags to collect evidence," he asks, patiently.
Llewella squints. "Ritual?" she asks Addison. "Some sort of magic gathering mice
killing ritual?"
Gerard says, "Is there, ah, much magic in mice?"
Gerard says, "I need more scotch."
--
The door behind Erasmus opens and two Hounds tumble out in haste. "One Princess
Distraction operation... failure, sir," one man says. The door shuts on more
talking. The Commander smiles benignly. "I shall have to ask the Prince
Regent, but I will ask you to come back another time. I assure you, his
possessions are safe."
--
Erasmus returns, looking homicidally calm. "Prince Regent?"
Corwin says, "Commander?"
"There is a whelp of Prince Eric's outside, wishing to ensure that all of you
are not in here stealing his father's hosery. I have deferred him to you
about entry," Erasmus replies evenly.
Addison stares in his glass, and tries to imagine why veritable Gods would
steal a man's hosery, except if it was extremely, unbelievably funny.
--
Llewella says, "And, here's another question." She leans against one of the
ragged edges of the hole in Flora's otherwise lovely wall, "Why did they want
Eric *alive*?"
Flora says, "Ritual sacrifice?" She's helpful that way. "Or perhaps the person
or persons thought it was a rescue mission."
Llewella says, "And these mice gave their lives valiantly and squeakishly that
Eric might escape, for the good of the realm?"
Flora says, "Or they were..." She glances at Gerard. "Or, er, they were, ah,
gnawing on him."
Gerard's voice gains a bit of thunder. "No one gnawed on Eric on my watch."
--
Gerard is chatting with his brother and sisters, companionably, a pickaxe over
his shoulder and a scotch in his hand. Addison is with them, smoking and
drinking. There seems to be a hole smashed into one wall, and there's plenty
of dust on Llewella and Gerard.
--
Jaeger's first words are directed to Gerard. "Uncle. Why are you smashing the
hell out of my father's rooms and possessions?"
Gerard answers, genially, "Well, the room really. It's not like I went looking
for his favorite vase to smash." He nods at Addison. "This fellow here, who
is a passable drinker, a snappy dresser, and mad as a hatter, has led us to a
mysterious motley of murdered mice."
--
Addison says in Dulcinea's general direction, "I'm sorry, Dulcinea. I apologize
for my lack of manners, but I misplaced them a glass of scotch ago. I've
found very strangely dead mice in the walls of the room. I do not know if you
can talk to the spirits I can see. It does not make too much sense, but
perhaps we can work something out."
Dulcinea cringes a little, "Really, Lord Addison. Scotch. And no of course I
cannot speak to anything dead. Since they're dead." She glances at the wall,
"Did someone spirit the King away through there... with mice?"
"Well..." Addison says, and ponders getting out of the chair and then thinks
against it for now, "I can speak to the dead mice, Dulcinea, but I do not
speak mouse as a matter of course."
Dulcinea says, "Well, I speak mouse, but not dead mouse."
Flora takes up the scotch bottle and with the most pleasant hostess smile ever
asks, "Scotch anyone?"
"Please, Highness," Erasmus says immediately.
Cyrus says, "If it's not too much trouble," with the tone of a drowning man
reaching for a life preserver.
Corwin returns the glance to Gerard, then walks over to Flora, polishing off
his drink on the way.
Dulcinea says, "I'll have a glass," ladylike.
Flora says, "Wonderful," oozing charm. Fresh glasses are filled and offered,
and empty glasses replenished. "There. Now everyone has something in hand to
help the mice go down easy."
--
Erasmus speaks up after a healthy gulp, "How is Lord Addison with squeaking?
Couldn't he just... imitate what he hears?"
"Dismember mice. They are well and dismembered and their bits sorted into neat
little piles. Could be tagged, but no one left behind little signs," Addison
says. Then he adds, "Another glass of scotch and I may be able to speak
anything."
Erasmus lifts his glass to Addison, saying, "You're a better man than I then,"
and drinks.
--
"The dead usually tell me, 'Stand up straighter' and 'wear a tie' and 'open
collars are for loose and moralless men,' so I cannot relate to speaking with
animals," Addison says.
Dulcinea tells Addison, "Mice are interested in food and," she clears her
throat, "A few other things."
Flora lifts her voice, "Will someone _please_ just try to talk to the bloody
mice!"
Llewella lifts a finger. "Perhaps I am phrasing this incorrectly. Talk to the
mice. Please talk to them now before my nephew grabs a pickaxe and starts
screaming about the desecration of his father's chambers. Hurry it up."
--
Random says disbelievingly, "Uh, Corwin. You're presiding over an investigation
of mice?"
Jaeger addresses Random. "I am told it makes more sense if you drink more."
Corwin says, "Define 'presiding.'"
Random says carefully, in a way that implies that sanity is disintegrating all
around him, and that he is soon to agree fervently with Jaeger, "What have
you, uh, discovered from the mice, Corwin?"
Corwin says, "Random, I'm just waiting for the executive summary."
--
Gerard says, "Well, even if it was a small amount of water, this place is dusty
as a nun's smallclothes."
--
Erasmus pipes up again, saying blandly, "I imagine those mouse parts are going
to start to smell shortly, now that they've been exposed to the air."
Gerard says, "Commander, I envy you your duties not at all."
Gerard takes his farewell, with that, and slips out of the royal suite.
Erasmus looks long suffering again. "Yes, Highness."
--
Addison sags in to a nearby chair, and looks at the big hole in the wall. "I am
afraid," Addison says, "that every night in the Palace will be Mice in the
Walls night."
"Not on my watch," Erasmus growls, stepping forward to survey how many bags to
get for the mice bits.
--
Flora draws a breath and tries to recap, "So there are no spirits in here to
tell us what happened to Eric, the mice know very little, and we might have a
ritual magician who specializes in mice blood sacrifice roaming around."
Flora says, "Does that about sum it up?"
Cyrus says, "Well, when you put it that way..."
Cyrus drinks.
--
A couple of the palace staff enter the room, escorted by Hounds, with little
trash tongs and spatulas.
Erasmus supervises, in order to file a complete report to Corwin. The staff
pull out small paper boxes used to deliver quick meals about the palace,
folded with little metal handles. They begin scooping and picking up the
mouse parts and placing them in the boxes, sorted properly, with all the
diligence of a forensics team.
Erasmus leans as the staff finish up, murmuring, "Now be sure you label those
boxes properly and put them where I mentioned." They nod and head off,
bearing the boxes to... somewhere no doubt secure.