introducing...today's dinner...[tags: Raylin]

[Avu]

How, exactly, had he gotten roped into this?

Stupid was positively vibrating with excitement, the brown Salamandyr bouncing up and down in an almost sickeningly cheerful way, the ring he'd made T'rid buy for Ebolath clutched in his foreclaws. "You could have just swam over," he commented reproachfully, "and maybe couldn't you have drowned when you were at it...? I wanted a bath." He hadn't even been allowed to stop back in his weyr; Stupid simply couldn't wait to give Ebolath the shiny: A small golden ring, engraved with a pattern made of two thin lines that ran all the way around it, looping over each other and surrounding small red rubies inset in the metallic jewelry. As thus, he had half a meatroll in one hand, a light brown tunic draped over his arm, and the heavy bag of marks still hanging from his belt loop as he managed to row his way through the river towards the Weyrling Barracks.

As soon as the boat had touched shore, the brown had shot out towards Ebolath and Raylin -- Corinth had been amused and kind enough to warn the greenweyrlingpair of their coming, and they were waiting near the entrance of the Weyrling Barracks. Fortunately it wasn't raining, or doubtlessly Stupid would have been washed away. T'rid watched grimly as the Salamandyr streaked across the ground, ring clasped securely between his teeth. Presenting himself with a happy coo in front of Ebolath, the Salamandyr reared up, presenting the ring to her, eyes whirling with hopeful delight. See. See? Gotta prezzie for 'lath. Shiny, goldy, see? he cooed happily, his tail twitching in an excess of excitement as his frill fell and rose erratically.

T'rid, carefully scrambling out of the boat, tied it against the dock and grimaced warily in Stupid's direction, earning himself an amused mental snort from Corinth. The bronze had chosen not to come, preferring to overlook the Caravan and make sure nothing went wrong instead, since His couldn't be there to make sure for himself. As he started towards them, something twitched against his hip and a slight rasping sound was just barely audible. T'rid stopped, confusion flitting across his face as he looked down...and was presented with a very innocent, plain bag which held his marks. He stared at it for a second, and it twitched again.

It could not be said that he didn't take surprises well, for instead of panicking, the bronzerider simply opened the bag...and instantly blanched at the sight of a chick, damp with egg fluid, perched upon the pieces of carved wood, eggshells scattered around it. Beady black eyes met his horrified gaze and another rasping cheep emerged from the tiny thing. T'rid hissed as he caught sight of another egg: Large, and distinctly flitter-like. Grabbing egg and chick in one hand, the bronzerider jerked the marks bag shut after one more prod to make sure nothing else had mysteriously appeared in there, and then started towards Raylin again, rubbing the side of his jaw wearily as he tried to figure out exactly what had happened. First of all, the eggs. He knew he hadn't bought them. Then who had, why him, and how him?

And second of all, now what? He could give the flitter egg to Raylin and claim that Corinth thought it would make a good present or something, but what was he supposed to do about a chicken? Said chicken had closed its claws around his finger and was amiably bouncing up and down with each step he took, peeping ocassionally as it smeared fluid on his hand. And now what was he supposed to say? "..." Stupid interrupted -- after handing off the ring to Ebolath, the brown deftly climbed to his arm and then peeped at the chick, who peeped right back, evidently fearless. Issa what? the brown demanded unhappily of His. Dinner? You...got a pet chicken? Corinth asked, bewildered.

"It's not a pet," he protested aloud, still staring at the chick, who chirped happily at him. "I mean...well, it's not dinner either." Then...what is it? "...um..."
~*~

Name- Dinner
Age- Hatchling
Species- Chicken
Gender- Hen
Owner- T'rid
Appearance- Hatching as a tiny golden fluffball, this chick promises to grow into a fine red hen one day. Of average weight and stature, she is exactly what you would expect to see when looking at a chicken. This could be taken as good luck, because striking chickens are not usually of the beautiful or hardy variety.

Personality- It is easy to see that this particular hen considers herself more mother than pet. She is strongly possessive of her owner and his mindmates, and is not above loudly charging at anything that she judges a threat to their well-being.

[Rei]

Ebolath bugled a affectionate greeting as the pair’s boat arrived, rearing on her hind legs and flapping her growing wings in emphasis. Raylin couldn’t help smiling at her bonded’s display. Her affection for the two, especially Stupid, was obvious as well as contagious.

The weyrling pair waited as Stupid made his sprint. Ebolath lowered her head to Stupid’s level and crooned affectionately to him. Why love it is a perfect gold shiny! Thank you so much! The green pressed an affectionate feeling on Stupid as she nuzzled him very carefully, the nuzzle being more of a gentle nudge. She snaked her tail around and slipped the ring through the tip.

Look Raymine. The green exclaimed shoving her tail in the woman’s face. My little one has given me such a lovely present. “I see that darling. It is very lovely Stupid.” The woman’s reply was automatic as her attention was on T’rid and his uncharacteristic pause. As he pulled a chick and an egg out of his marks bag her eyebrows shot up. As he approached she gently took the chick from his hands obviously not caring about egg fluid. “Not a pet? What did you buy her for then? Are you planning on abandoning her like your old cat? If you don’t get her dry she will get chilled.” Taking a cloth from her pocket she began to rub little Dinner’s down dry.

Ebolath’s head shot in between T’rid and hers as she regarded the chicken. Aww it is little and fuzzy. She is not big enough to eat. You should not name her dinner. You have another egg? Is it another little fluff? Maybe name this one Breakfast? The green curled her body around T’rid, blocking off hers in the process. So much for his plan of pawning off the egg. “Another egg? I thought you said you had enough pets?” Raylin queried to her dragon’s back. The bronze rider was going to have a very full weyr. Especially when they came to visit.

[Avu]

Ebolath uncharacteristically received no response from Stupid; the brown was fascinated and horrified by Dinner, who peeped shrilly at him, fluttering her wings as well as she could considering she was newly Hatched and had to share space with an egg larger than she was. Nonono. Bad Dinner, the Salamandyr protested, looping his tail possessively around T'rid's thumb. /Mine/, is /mine/, norra yours! His frill rose agitatedly, his eyes gleaming in distress. He didn't generally put on shows of possessiveness, but he didn't like it. The chick was something he had never before seen in his life, and he automatically assumed that if it had come from an egg, then it Impressed. And he didn't want to share His with anyone else! Dinner, however, was quickly lifted away from T'rid by Raylin, and Stupid dashed forward to take the spot, hissing in distress at Dinner, who peeped back.

The girl's rubbing her dry earned Raylin a beady-eyed glance, and then, as Raylin spoke to T'rid, the chick took offense -- and, in a surprising display of her own determination to keep T'rid as her pet -- and squeaked indignantly in what might have been a squawk had she been larger, jabbing her beak into Raylin's thumb. It barely made a dent in the greenweyrling's skin and certainly wouldn't have hurt: She was too small and too weak. But Dinner had gotten her point across, she was certain, and, drying rapidly now, she flapped her stubby wings, cheeping as loudly as she could manage, eyes fixed on T'rid. He was the first thing she'd seen since Hatching, and she assumed, instinctively, that he was her mother. And her mother wouldn't abandon her! Stupid frilled at the chick from T'rid's palm, which was still curled loosely around the Large Flitter Egg, hissing sibilantly again. Bad! Bad Dinner no is /Mine/! the brown reiterated.

Little one, Dinner is a /chicken/. She will not take T'ridOurs. It's like a feline, Corinth assured the Salamandyr, and earned a soft keel of anxiety as Dinner squawked -- her vocal cords grated and barely managed to support the sound -- at Stupid, bouncing slightly and flapping her wings again. T'rid, finally managing to get a word in edgeways, commented coldly, "I didn't buy her. You can bet I stayed as far from the Egg Stall as I could -- I just found her." Curling his fingers awkwardly around the flitter egg, the bronzerider shrugged impatiently. "And -- what the shells are you talking about? I've never had a cat." Whereupon Dinner, with another awkward wobble, managed to launch herself in T'rid's direction off of Raylin's hand, and, instinctively, as the chick spiraled towards the ground, T'rid caught her in his free palm, jostling Stupid and the flitter egg. The brown Salamandyr cried out indignantly, tail tightening around T'rid's finger as the Salamandyr frilled again at Dinner, and then, sulking, dove into T'rid's pocket.

"And I do have enough pets," T'rid snapped back, addressing one of Ebolath's wings as Dinner managed to snag a piece of his meatroll and began pecking at it. Shifting awkwardly to put the flitter egg in another of his pockets, he tore it into smaller pieces for the chick and let her eat. How was someone supposed to care for a chicken? He'd never been a farmer before, nor ever wanted to -- or a Beastcrafter, for that matter. "I didn't buy the eg -- oh, shells and shards! It's not a chicken, Ebolath...as you can see now." The bronzerider sighed as the large egg cracked in his pocket and touched the material gently, earning a soft whistle from the fire lizard it contained. A rosy-brown flitter clawed his way from the prison and latched tightly to the front of his shirt, peering up at him and whistling again. The customary hunger made the bronzerider hiss, and, as he offered the rest of the meatroll to his newest mindmate, T'rid couldn't help groaning.

"What is this, some sort of conspiracy?!"

The oddly-patterned fire lizard cooed sweetly up at him through the mouthful of meat, and Stupid popped back out to glare venemously at the brown. Conspiracy! The brown Salamandyr made it an insult; he positively spat it at the fire lizard, who blinked back, goggling uncertainly at the Salamandyr, who displayed again, only to earn a cheerful croon from Conspiracy. What are you, some sort of egg magnet? Corinth asked, sounding genuinely amused as the bronze stole a peek through T'rid's eyes at Conspiracy.

~*~*~

Name
Conspiracy

Age
Hatchling

Species
Fire lizard

Color
Brown

Looks to
T'rid

Appearance
Quite interesting to look at, this rosey-brown flitter's patterning almost resembles that of a jungle feline. With a pale underbelly and a large number of dark brown rosettes running down his back and legs, it would be certainly easy to loose him against most sleeping furs. His small eyes are ringed with what almost looks like dark eye paint, giving them a slanted appearance. Thankfully, the illusion of feline ancestry ends when one takes notice of the fact that he is most definitely flitter-shaped. His frame is large and strongly built, just as one would expect to see on a brown his size. His wings are a good balance of length and breadth, able to carry him skillfully through the air on journeys of an impressive length.

Personality
This brown is a cheery and eager-to-please fellow, quite content to give up his own opinions in favor of following the whims and requests of those he takes a fancy to. He is almost pathetically naive in his loyalty to his friends and the metallic members of his species, offering them no end of respect and admiration. In fact, this little brown will cheerfully take a great deal of abuse from most creatures -- 'mandyrs excluded -- and despite it all will defend them with even more fervency than he would apply to defending himself. He absolutely loves to know that others approve of him, most especially His, who will never be referred to anything less than the most amazing human being ever to grace the halls of Selenitas Weyr.

[Rei]

Raylin shook her head when the little chick pecked her. “I think she wants her mommy back.” She paused as T’rid said he hadn’t bought her. “If you didn’t buy her then how did you get her? From Stupid’s attitude it’s obvious that he didn’t steal them perhaps it is someone’s idea of a joke.” Just then the little bird leapt off her hand. Her startled cry turned into a sigh of relief as T’rid caught her. The weyrling raised her eyebrow. “What do you mean you never had a cat? Some bronze rider said you abandoned one and his daughter found it. He said she named it Reggie short for T’rid’s rejected cat. I am positive I didn‘t imagine the conversation.”

Ebolath crooned a welcome to the new brown flitter. Why hello little Conspiracy. I am Ebolath. Yours is very sweet. You are very cute. She huffed as hers pushed her wing aside, her breath blowing through T’rid’s hair. “I have no idea if it is a conspiracy or not but your little brown is adorable.” She offered the little brown a strip of dried fish. “Hungry little fella? I hope you like me better than Dinner does.”

Ebolath shifted back to regard Stupid. Her little friend was obviously not happy. She crooned to him seeking to reassure him slightly. It is ok Stupid you are still my favorite little friend. The green blinked some dust out of her eyes and stared at the flitter. Mine we should get another. Darling we will have to wait for the next hatching I have no marks remember. Oh yes that’s right.

Vega popped out from between then and gave a happy squawk before winging over to Ebolath and perching right between her wings. Ha! Take that frilly. He had his spot back. Suddenly the little brown caught is attention and he crooned a greeting to the baby.

Raylin leaned against her dragon and gazed at the obviously frustrated bronze rider. “Well like it or not you are the new bonded of a brown flitter and the mother of a pissy chicken.” She said it with complete seriousness although the slight smirk on her face said she was a bit amused by the whole situation and his frustrated reaction to it. “Chickens are messy I suggest you try to confine her to a section of your weyr or you will have chicken crap all over the place. They like to perch on things especially when they sleep. They will never sleep on the ground and a diet of leftovers will suit her well enough. Chickens are omnivores. They will eat just about anything and when she gets bigger she might take a new pecks at Stupid if he is not careful. The chickens on our farm would eat all sorts of little lizards and even the occasional tunnel snake when they could get them.” Ebolath snorted and her eyes adopted a twinge of orange. She better not try to eat him.

[Avu]

T'rid couldn't help flinching at Raylin's comment. Her mommy?! No, he wasn't -- mommies did not typically name their babies "Dinner", did they? Obviously Stupid hadn't stolen the eggs, though; the brown Salamandyr was in no way inobtrusive and T'rid thought that he'd probably crack all of the eggs should he try to be sneaky about making his way through them. The Salamandyr's sour mood had T'rid almost sympathetic towards him, and the bronzerider, in a rare show of affection for the little creature, stroked the head that poked out to glare at Conspiracy. "Ugh," he remarked, wrinkling his nose. A joke? A joke?! Someone was going to die, and at this point in time, T'rid didn't care if said person was the actual culprit or not. Whoever had gotten near the Egg Stall would be stalked out and tortured. Or...well, something like that.

He watched blankly as Conspiracy and Dinner ate, the fire lizard eating daintily and even pausing once, feeling his gaze, to offer a tidbit of meat to T'rid, who declined with a curl of his lip and a slight twitch of his head. The chick snapped up the pieces of meatroll, too, claws still fastened around his finger as she flapped stubby wings. Finally, the last piece was consumed by Conspiracy, and brown fire lizard, Salamandyr, and chick appraised each other solemnly. Bad Dinner Conspiracy, bad -- ! Chirp, croon. Cheep, peck. Thus went their conversation, the three conversing in languages that none of them understood.

T'rid, however, had stopped paying attention to them and had stared at Raylin, clearly and obviously uncertain. Feline? What? He'd never had a feline. Ever. He'd never wanted a feline. Corinth had -- but that was Corinth, and that was only to annoy him. So -- wait! But...he hadn't abandoned the kitten. The girl had taken it. Kale-something. Kaleri...Kalerary. Yes. And the bronzerider that was her father? T'rid was betting it was Ka'rys; he distinctly remembered, now that he'd figured out what, exactly, Raylin meant, that he'd thought the girl bore an uncanny resemblance to said bronzerider. "Oh," he said after a moment, and then, just to be sure, "Ka'rys and Kalerary? I didn't abandon the cat. She wanted a kitten. I didn't. I gave it to her. And, out of curiosity...what exactly brought up the topic of -- of a feline?"

As Ebolath spoke to Conspiracy, the brown flitter whistled in surprise, flopping backwards in order to stare in something close to awe at Ebolath. She was so big and shiny! That train of thought was cut off as Stupid uttered a furious whistle that made Conspiracy jerk in surprise, and then flick an apologetic glance at Stupid that clearly bewildered and slightly mollified the Salamandyr. Bad Dinner 'spircy, snapped Stupid, including the chick in the insult. Dinner wobbled slightly as she flapped her wings upon Raylin's intrusion (she broke the green wall! Oh no!) and regarded her suspiciously as the greenweyrling offered a strip of something fishy to Conspiracy. The brown fire lizard fluted appreciatively, daintily taking the strip from her and tearing it in half to offer one half to Dinner. The chick peeped and backtracked hastily, so Conspiracy, bewildered by her rejection, picked it up again and began nibbling.

Stupid blinked at Ebolath, distress still prominent in the coloring of his eyes. No, bad! he protested at her soothing comment. Don't wanna share Stupidmine, issa Mine, Mine... The brown Salamandyr clawed his way out of the pocket, unhappily aware that even now, Ebolath was still staring at Conspiracy, who peeped cheerfully at the green and offered the tiny strip of fish that remained to her. So caught up in glaring at Conspiracy and Dinner was Stupid that the brown Salamandyr didn't notice Vega -- nor would he have cared. Much as he loved Ebolath, he loved T'ridHis so much more, and he had graciously if ill-temperedly accepted that he must share him with Corinth and Mir -- they'd come first -- but now this? He had to share him with Conspiracy too? No...Conspiracy, however, did notice Vega and greeted the older blue with a cheerful warble, raising his head to peer at Vega.

T'rid blinked rapidly a few times as he caught Stupid in one hand and deposited the brown Salamandyr on his shoulder. "Stay," he insisted, and earned an agitated whine in response. "I know -- I didn't want them either," he added more sympathetically, stroking the Salamandyr's spine as Conspiracy curled up in his palm, wings drooping over the sides, and yawned, the typical hatchling sleepiness overcoming the brown flitter as Dinner crowded up against the brown fire lizard, ogling him for a moment before she gave a scrambling little hop and managed to get herself perched upon the neck ridges of the flitter and then shook out her downy feathers, peeping quietly at Conspiracy, who offered no protest to being used as a roosting post. Raylin's advice made T'rid groan slightly again, and the bronzerider wrinkled his nose at Dinner. "Great."

There was simply no other way to explain it.

[Rei]

Raylin watched the three creatures squabble and smiled when the brown gently took the fish. The weyrling was careful to stay well out of the chicks way. It obviously didn’t like her for some reason. The girl turned to T’rid as he spoke. “Oh Ka’rys was limping about like I was. His leg was bandaged so I asked him how he had done it. He said he tripped over Reggie a.k.a your rejected cat. My misunderstanding. Although I think he did say you abandoned it.”

Ebolath’s eyes whirled in happy blues as the flit offered her the fish. It is ok little one. You eat it. You will grow big and strong that way. She turned her attention back to the brown mandyr but couldn’t think of a way to console him. The green settled for an unsure croon and then turned to look at Vega as he alighted on her back.

The pale blue flit didn’t stay perched there long instead he quickly scampered up Ebolath’s neck and wrapped his tail around one of her smaller neck ridges. Secured thus he hung down and tilted his head at the new baby. Vega warbled cheerfully back to the small brown. A new playmate perhaps? At the very least another addition to his growing flock of people to care about.

Raylin watched as T’rid consoled the little mandyr. “I’m sorry. Maybe you could get someone else to take her if you don’t want her.” She fell silent not sure what else she could say. Ebolath watched the babies for a moment and then nuzzled T’rid’s side gently. Seeking to reassure him if she could. She couldn't see what was upsetting him weren't babies supposed to make people happy?

[Avu]

Ka'rys, limping? And because of a cat that he'd "rejected" and Kalerary had therefore taken? (T'rid had been under the impression that Kalerary lived with Z'hin, as she'd mentioned, hadn't she, that he wouldn't appreciate a feline? But it didn't matter.) "Ha," was his brief and exceptionally smug rejoinder. Was it wrong, that he found that funny? -- yes, probably so. Definitely so, Corinth countered. Ciceroth's is a /Wingleader/. An adept one, at that. So, what? He couldn't hate his Wingleaders? Well, no. He didn't hate Ka'rys; he just didn't like him and found it very funny that the man, who had told him that his reflexes were just fine not a few sevendays ago had gone and tripped over a cat. "His" cat, too! How...incredibly...funny. (He really shouldn't be thinking this, since he was going to have to ask the man to teach the Maelstrom Wing dragon combat...) You're going to get yourself killed, Corinth observed mildly.

Conspiracy, head propped gently against T'rid's thumb, chirped sweetly at Ebolath, the little brown flitter swallowing the remainder of the fish and then yawning widely before his eyes started to lid closed. Evidently he was sleepy, but as Vega warbled to him, Conspiracy twitched, nearly displacing Dinner, and forced his eyes open to respond with a sleepy whistle, which promptly turned into an apology as Dinner flapped her wings, squeaking indignantly at the lack of dignity in having her perch move under her, and pecked at the brown's shoulders reprovingly. Conspiracy's coo was reassuring, and finally, with one last huff, Dinner settled herself snugly down again. Conspiracy sent one more anxious glance at Vega and Ebolath, clearly wondering if they were going to talk to him again -- he couldn't possibly be rude and ignore them, but he so...so wanted to sleep...

"Sleep," T'rid said firmly, feeling the fatigue of the fire lizard on his own mind. Conspiracy's head came around -- slowly, as not to bother Dinner, who had indeed fallen asleep -- and he peeped quietly, questioningly. "Sleep," the bronzerider reiterated, and the brown crooned, tongue flicking out to touch the Weyrleader's palm before he dropped his head, curling it snugly around his flank -- and therefore around Dinner -- to close his eyes, the lids falling closed one by one until the jewel-faceted, slow-whirling eyes were entirely hidden from view. T'rid stared in a mixture of affection and annoyance at the brown, whose tail had drooped to wrap lovingly and securely around his middle finger, in much the same way Dinner had previously his ring finger.

Bad Dinner 'spiracy EAT, Stupid hissed, evidently not at all appeased. Stupids EAT. And then, borrowing the word he had learned from Showoff: Dinner 'spiracy BOOM, BAD. The tiny brown frilled defiantly at the two sleeping creatures, his tail stretching possessively as far as he could manage around T'rid's neck (which was quite far, considering his size). Seizing on Raylin's suggestion, the brown 'mandyr, determined to catch the attention of His, gently nibbled his earlobe in what might possibly be described as desperate and affectionate mixed into one. Miiiine, he whined. Give'm 'way, us no wan 'em! The brown Salamandyr's distress was contagious, and T'rid felt a rising, alien dislike for both Dinner and Conspiracy.

"I don't know anyone who wants a pet chicken," he commented dryly, trying to distract himself. "Unless you want him?" T'rid doubted it, to be entirely honest: nobody wanted a pet chicken -- especially not one who considered the Weyrleader to be their mommy.

[Rei]

Raylin shook her head at the Weyrleader’s question. “I would take him or her if I could but I can’t with Ebolath. I quite have my hands full already. Add in Saeo’s mandyr and her two cats and there is no way the poor thing would have a chance. I am sure the felines would view her as a tasty snack. Besides she seems rather attached to her mother.” The green weyrling winked at T’rid and Ebolath snorted.

How can T’rid be a mother? He is a boy. Boys do not get egg heavy. Raylin rolled her eyes and tapped her dragons muzzle. “Silly love he is like her adopted mother, not her real mother.” Oh The green turned blue whirling eyes to the bronze rider and licked his face. You will be a good mother I am sure. Ebolath then turned to the mandyr. It is ok little one you will always be my favorite. I am sure you will grow used to your new siblings in time.

Vega rustled his wings as he eyed the new arrivals. The babies were sleeping? Well that was boring. The pale blue fluttered back down Ebolath’s neck and perched in between her wings. There he started to preen picking infinitesimal pieces of dust and grime off his hide.

The dark haired girl examined the sleeping brown closely. “He really is quite handsomely marked and so polite. Perhaps you could learn a few things from him.” She teased nudging the man on the shoulder. “Where’s Corinth did he decide to stay behind.” At the mention of Corinth, Ebolath swung her head around nearly knocking it into Raylin’s. “Hey! Ebo watch where your swinging that brick you call a head.” The green snorted and eyed hers balefully. You said Corinth. I was just checking to see if he was coming.

[Avu]

T'rid managed to keep himself from looking too frustrated. During Candidacy and his life at Selenitas Hold, he'd used lies a lot to escape punishment, and lying simply wouldn't do if his face wasn't straight -- and as thus, his features didn't nearly do the annoyance he felt justice. But there was more to think about anyway. Where had the eggs popped up from? Eggs did not just pop out of nowhere, especially not into his money bag. He'd never left it open for long, and he definitely hadn't left it anywhere. It had stayed on his belt the entire time. How is not important. Who is important, Corinth corrected him, and T'rid sighed softly as he rearranged Conspiracy along his forearm and tucked his arm along his torso to make sure the brown flitter didn't fall. Dinner clucked quietly as she plopped herself comfortably on top of Conspiracy, her beady eyes closing as she fluffed her feathers one more time and then slept.

Ahh...well, yes. He hadn't thought Raylin would want a chicken. Nobody did -- or would. The bronzerider sighed, wrinkling his nose as he peered down at Dinner. Attached to her mother?! The phrase had him glaring slightly at Raylin, though it was only mild. Not fair. He knew he was stuck with Conspiracy -- you simply couldn't reverse an Impression -- but by Faranth, he'd try to get rid of Dinner if it meant paying someone to take her. At least Raylin had a halfway decent excuse, though, T'rid noted glumly -- Salamandyrs and felines, yuck. He wouldn't even put Stupid or Mir with felines and other Salamandyrs -- they were bound to clash and both brown Salamandyr and blue flitter were full-grown and generally mature. (And actually, Conspiracy seemed quite mature, too. Hmm.) "I figured as much," he commented despairingly --

-- and promptly had a tongue swipe over his face. T'rid couldn't help wrinkling his nose, rubbing at the dragon slobber with one sleeve as Ebolath spoke to him happily. "A good mother? I hope not." Gah, he really didn't want to be a good mother. Or father, for that matter: Corinth and Stupid Chased greens entirely too often, and though his virginity had been thoroughly destroyed by this time, he'd still yet to get anybody pregnant -- thanks be to Faranth; apparently she only despised him half of the time. The bronzerider had no problems admitting that he would absolutely loathe having a child: The responsibility that came with fathering a child was horribly restricting. Baaad. At least neither Corinth nor Stupid had Chased in...what, four months now? Yes: That was right. Four months. Longer still for Corinth, who hadn't Chased since he'd Caught Aslath.

Stupid's claws tickled T'rid's neck as he slid from one shoulder to the other, tongue flicking out anxiously. Ebolath's words calmed the brown Salamandyr slightly, though agitation was still rapidly swirling in his eyes as his frill rose and fell erratically. Once the motions had conveyed joy: Now there was nothing but anxiety in the gesture. No, he told Ebolath, in great distress. Nononono /no/. Is /Mine/, Stupidmine, Mine. /Mine/! he added emphatically, twitching slightly as Conspiracy shifted in his sleep and T'rid, in a surprising display of tenderness, caught the wing that slipped over his arm and tucked it gently back against the brown fire lizard. His reward? A quick nip at his fingers by Stupid, who frilled at him. Mine! Is /Mine/!

With a sigh, T'rid waggled one finger reprovingly at Stupid. "No. I know. Look, I can't get rid of Conspiracy, okay? It's impossible to reverse Impression. As you should know -- I'm pretty sure I tried driving you away, remember?" Somewhat appeased by the attention, the brown Salamandyr slunk back up to his shoulder and then dove into the bronzerider's pocket. "Polite?!" T'rid wrinkled his nose at Raylin's comment, and then sniffed slightly. "I would learn nothing -- he's probably just sleepy. Actually, I'm surprised he stayed awake this long, even -- Mir dropped off to sleep right after he stuffed himself." At the mention of Corinth, the bronzerider blinked, and then answered, "Hmm? Oh. He's still at the Caravan. Wanted to make sure things would go smoothly, you know. There was a caravan-owner trying to sell Benden wine -- we sent him off, but I don't know...I guess he's paranoid?"

I fully expect you to keep Dinner, you know, at least long enough for me to meet her. /And/ the little brown cousin -- what do you call him? -- Conspiracy.

[Rei]

Raylin smiled innocently at T’rid as he glared at her. At least it wasn’t a intense glare, more like mild irritation at being baited. Well good. Pay back for his hurry up comment when she could barely walk.

When his face fell back to his new hatchlings and she noticed his despondent expression she lightly laid a hand on his arm and squeezed it. She doubted he even felt it, as Ebolath’s tongue had quite effectively captured his face. The green weyrling had to fight back a laugh at his expression, as he wiped off the dragon slobber. Ebolath in turn seemed completely unfazed.

In fact the greens attention had been claimed by her Stupid and her eyes now mirrored his own distressed orbs. A low whine escaped the dragon's throat and she nuzzled her bonded. Raylin stroked the great green head lovingly. “It’s ok love I bet he will be ok in time don’t worry.” She reassured her darling, green, mind mate with loving strokes and unspoken reassurances. Ebolath’s obsession with the mandyr didn’t really worry the girl. Why should it? Ebolath would never be truly "caugh" by the little dear and it would not harm her to have a close friend.

T’rid’s voice broke through Raylin’s thoughts and she raised one dark eyebrow. “Someone was actually selling wine? How stupid would you have to be. Obviously extremely so.” Ebolath, now reassured, flopped down on the ground and curled her tail around T’rid. We will come visit you soon mine thinks. Do you like klah? Raymine is planning on bringing some for you. Tell her if you would like something else. I very much want to see Corinth soon. Please tell him I said hi?

Raylin in turn was not privy to the conversation and not really all to worried about what her bonded was saying to the bronze rider. Probably something entirely irrelevant and pointless. “He is extremely polite. I have never seen a baby flit do anything with meat besides eat it and he was perfectly willing to give it away. However you are right your too stubborn and dense to learn anything useful from Conspiracy.” The girl teased lightly before rubbing her hand through his hair spiking it up with Ebolath’s slobber.

[Avu]

Baaaah, how much did he have to scold her to get his point across? T'rid sniffed slightly at Ebolath's clear lack of apology, rubbing his arm across his face again and repressing the urge to twitch at the amount of slobber that came off on his sleeve. How had he known to buy a shirt, that day? Intuition. Clearly. (Intuition that a dragon would lick him? Hmm.) "Yuck," he stated again, wrinkling his nose at Ebolath and then sighing reluctantly. "Ebolath? Could we not lick me, please? It's...disgusting." Granted, Corinth often touched his tongue to T'rid's shoulder, or his face, in a gesture of affection, but the bronze's was slobber-free, and he didn't mind that. But actual licking bothered him -- mostly because of the wetness. Dragons' breath didn't often smell badly (or perhaps he'd just gotten used to the meaty, smoky scent of herdbeast and firestone? He certainly had the musty scent that came with living with dragons), so that wasn't a problem; he just didn't like being wet. (Which was why Corinth so often shoved him into the water: So that he'd have to swim with the bronze. It made sense to Corinth, anyway.)

However, glancing at Ebolath revealed that the green was clearly distressed. Because of Stupid? It seemed so. The brown Salamandyr was still sulking, ocassionally swinging his head around to snap defiantly at Conspiracy or at Dinner (neither of whom were conscious to take note of it). Bad! he snapped, and then creeled anxiously at T'rid, slithering to his left shoulder and nibbling at his neck hopefully. Iss mine, yes? Stupidmine? Mine? The Salamandyr's voice grew even more anxious at the bronzerider's momentary lack of response -- he was busy appraising Ebolath closely. "I hope you're not upset because of Stupid," he finally commented, reaching up one hand to run his finger down the brown's back. He quirked one eyebrow slightly as the Salamandyr twined instantly around his finger, whuffling softly as he purred hopefully. "I'm pretty sure all Salamandyrs are downright possessive. I'm surprised Stupid's only taken a few snaps at Mir as it is."

He didn't like the green's blatant fondness for Stupid, though. She wasn't close to Rising -- thank Faranth she was still only a Weyrling; she very well might grow out of it -- but Salamandyrs didn't forget -- they were like firelizards in that respect. Even if Ebolath took to ignoring him till her maiden Flight, Stupid still would remember her kindness. And he would Chase, and T'rid would not be pleased (and that was putting it lightly, too). Naturally, he couldn't deny Stupid the one friend he did have; nor did he want to alienate Raylin. But just because he was on friendly terms with the greenweyrling certainly didn't mean that he couldn't dislike her dragon's relationship with his pet. Had it been Conspiracy, or Mir, that Ebolath was so fond of, T'rid could have cared less. They were firelizards, and therefore their lust wasn't as strong as Stupid's was. But...wasn't Phremath's Flight, and then Amith's Flight, enough to prove that while greens certainly could get fond of him, he was simply incapable of Catching them? -- apparently not. Sigh.

Raylin's comment adequately distracted him from the very depressing train of thought, and T'rid shrugged. "They tried. They failed," he replied bluntly, shrugging. "I don't blame them. Lots of Riders want wine, but the Weyr's not big enough -- nor do we have anyone willing -- to grow a vineyard, never mind actually make the wine. Sucks to be them, I guess; personally I'd rather be alive and wineless than dead and full of Benden wine. Which, for the record, is the very best there is." Would he know? Yes, he would. While T'rid didn't usually drink, he ocassionally had, though he did have the sense to stop after Shmee had been poisoned, courtesy of her wine, and he had been to enough Gathers, Feasts, and what have you to have sampled the more famous of wines, and besides, Benden wine being superior to all the others was a widely accepted fact as it was. "But yeah," he concluded after a pause. "I'm assuming he was stupid, as he certainly doesn't have the excuse of ignorance." Hmm.

Ebolath's little speech made the bronzerider cock his head slightly to one side. Funny how accustomed he was getting, to Ebolath's talking to him. Corinth certainly had never contacted Raylin, and from what he could tell, the greenweyrling didn't feel snubbed in any way: The bronze was not fond of Raylin so much as tolerant of her; he accepted her because he liked Ebolath. And it took much more than fondness to get the bronze to directly address another human. How many other people had the bronze spoken to, before? Just Juliya, that T'rid recalled, and that only because she was an HAD. "That sounds fine," he responded, shrugging. "And, um...can't you bespeak him? I mean, dragons can, generally..." Corinth could contact the watchdragon easily enough, and pick out the minds of those on their wing without hesitation. It doesn't matter, Corinth responded. I heard. Tell her hi for me. "But, yeah...Corinth says hi, too." He was getting used to the fact that Corinth could read him so easily; the stress that came with Weyrleadership had strengthened the bond between dragon and Rider and T'rid found it completely impossible to shut him out by now. Which was really annoying sometimes.

The teasing was more or less accepted by the bronzerider. He'd done his fair share of teasing (and more), and coming from someone he qualified as a 'friend,' teasing was perfectly acceptable. More or less. "Polite or suicidal," he noted dryly as to Conspiracy's nature. Flitters and dragons alike cracked shell starving, and to happily give away food was...not normal. Not normal at all. "And anyway -- hey!" The last word came as more surprise than protest, the bronzerider twitching (very visibly) as Raylin ran her fingers through his hair, making it stand up in spikes, Ebolath's slobber doing what water, combs, and generally everything else could not do, and for once making it accept its new, spiky fate. "Well," he commented. "Apparently dragon slobber's stronger than...um, everything else." Does this mean you're going to want me to slobber on you in the mornings? -- I refuse. Corinth sounded distinctly amused, and T'rid cringed at the thought. Ahem, /no/. My hair is /fine/. With all due respect, Weyrleadermine, I beg to differ...!

[Rei]

Ebolath crooned in apology her eyes whirling in yellow shades. I am sorry. I will not lick you again. The green lowered her head and curled her tail around her haunches looking for all the world like a kicked puppy. Why should I not be upset that my little friend is upset did I do wrong again? Her tone was clearly distressed as her eyes flickered from T’rid to Raylin.

Raylin sighed and patted Ebolath’s neck. “No love he’s not upset with you. He just doesn’t think you need to worry about Stupid. Stupid is just possessive like Saeo’s hideous Freckle. Your little friend will be fine.” The green seemed placated by the information but she eyed T’rid balefully. I am so sorry for licking you. She repeated as if reiterating the fact would make it more forgiven. The comment about addressing Corinth directly earned a surprised rumble from the green. Oh that’s right I forgot I could do that. She smacked her tail against the ground and immediately searched for the bronze’s mind.

Raylin stared at Ebolath in disbelief and smacked her hand against her forehead in a gesture of exasperation. “Please tell me she will grow out of this.” The woman gave a glance toward T’rid and smiled at him dropping her hand. “You know your hair looks good like that. If you wore it that way more often you’d probably have all sorts of admirers.” She batted her eyelashes at him and gave a short laugh.

Corinth? Hi. Ebolath said happily, blissfully unaware of her bonded’s pathetic attempt at teasing. Did you know yours has two new babies? I think they are very cute. The green nodded her head. I hope mine gets another sometime they are very amusing. Raylin leaned against Ebolath’s shoulder and looked over the Weyrleader’s new pets. “Perhaps you should go back to your weyr now and allow them to sleep." She pressed gently. "Hey look on the bright side at least now you have a good excuse to leave the caravans. Really though they are pretty cute, perhaps you will get used to them in time.” The weyrling consoled the bronze rider softly.

[Avu]

Ebolath looked so -- so hurt by his statement that T'rid mentally backtracked, wondering what he'd said. Stupid half-frilled nervously, torn between comforting Ebolath -- he liked Ebolath, he did -- and going on with claiming T'rid irreversably. How did one go about doing that anyway? Corinth had. When T'rid introduced himself, there was always of bronze Corinth on the end of it. How did he get his name in there, too? T'rid of brown Stupid and bronze Corinth. There! Didn't that sound better than just one? But if T'ridHis (HIS!) put Conspiracy or Dinner in there, it would absolutely ruin it, it would. T'rid of brown Conspiracy and Dinner? Noooo! Stupid positively twitched at the thought, gnawing on one of T'rid's fingers absently, his sharp little teeth busying themselves with the rough ridges on his skin. T'rid absently wriggled the finger in question, and Stupid instantly twined his tail possessively around the digit as the bronzerider glanced in vague surprise at the Salamandyr. "Uh," he said in response to Ebolath, "It's okay...Stupid, that's my finger." The brown Salamandyr displayed his frill. Finger, he agreed. MY finger.

The clearly possessive term made T'rid wrinkle his nose and sniff pointedly, but he didn't dissuade the Salamandyr, who curled even tighter around his finger. MY finger. At Raylin's explanation to the distressed Ebolath, he nodded vaguely in assent. "Uh, yeah...overly possessive." Not, Stupid countered in a low mutter. IS. MY finger. MY finger! T'rid twitched his hand gently, and then, when Stupid only clung all the tighter, he tried to peel the Salamandyr off of his hand. Which resulted in an indignant squeak as the Salamandyr latched on stubbornly, refusing to move. MY finger, BITE STUPIDMINE BAD. T'rid twitched visibly at the threat -- he'd been on the receiving end of Stupid's teeth before, notfun! -- and then just shrugged, mostly to himself, sticking his hand (and Stupid with it) into his pocket. Miiiiine, came the whining protest, but the Salamandyr made no move to bite.

Fortunately, because the desire to just squash all of his pets like bugs was growing. They seemed to attract more and more, and he did not like it.

Ebolath's 'forgetting' that she could bespeak Corinth made the bronzerider smirk slightly, amused. Trust a Weyrling to forget her own capabilities -- and not feel the slightest twinge of embarrassment about it. Of course. Corinth would have been horribly embarrassed if he'd forgotten -- T'rid thought the bronze might try to hide himself for a while until it was forgotten. "She'll grow out of her shamelessness, anyway," he observed, though not unkindly, as he shifted Conspiracy and Dinner awkwardly from one hand to the other, and finally settled the chick back in his money bag. The marks weren't comfortable, but they were better than being dropped on her head. Did chicks have to look so...so tiny and breakable? At least Conspiracy, who leaned against his forearm, looked...sturdy. Sturdier than Dinner, anyway.

The comment about his hair drew a mock-haughty sniff from the bronzerider, and he pointedly swept his gaze away from Raylin to Ebolath. "Can you believe her?" the bronzerider asked, addressing the green dragon. (If she didn't mind talking to him directly, T'rid had no problems talking to Ebolath.) "Of all the things she could fixate on, my hair? And what's this about admirers, hmm? How do you know I haven't already got admirers?" The last was aimed with mock defiance at the greenweyrlingrider herself. It was hard to be annoyed about anything when you'd just Impressed a firelizard; the joy of Impression wasn't as intense as the one he remembered from Corinth's Impression -- nor yet the horribly hard to ignore one from Stupid's -- but it was still present, lifting his mood forcibly. Which was, in itself, rather annoying.

Hello, Ebolath, Corinth responded to the young green, Yes, I know. He has informed me. Conspiracy and Dinner. The bronze snorted slightly from his perch at the green's comment. They are very amusing, but they take up much of Mine's time as well -- at least, Mir and Stupid do; I'm quite sure Conspiracy will, and I'm willing to bet that Dinner will too. At least you didn't have to oil chickens like you did firelizards and Salamandyrs, the dragon noted. I expect she will be, if she lives. Mine has never had a pet chicken before, I'm sure. He was rather put out by the idea of Dinner dying, time spent tending a chicken aside, and rustled his wings slightly. I suppose he may give her away, though, he added thoughtfully, mostly to himself, as he paced restlessly near the Caravans. He wanted to see the littleones, he did...

Right. Get back. To his weyr. His weyr...the idea was a brillliant and greatly-welcomed one, and the bronzerider, for once, didn't argue, merely nodding as Stupid slithered out of his pocket, dragging his hand forcibly out, too. MY finger Stupidmine, MY, the brown stated softly, nibbling on his knuckles and drawing a yelp from T'rid. My! Bad Stupidmine bad. The Salamandyr's frill rose and fell erratically for a moment. "Right," T'rid agreed, absently. "Right...yeah, I'm heading back now. Have fun with...wait, what'd Stupid give Ebolath? That little ring? Yeah. Have fun with it." MY, Stupid...agreed? T'rid had no idea what the brown was going on about by this point, and simply shrugged before he turned, heading back towards the boat.

((I'll leave it to you to end it, if you want Raylin to reply to T'rid some or whatever.))

[Rei]

Raylin returned T’rid’s defiant look with an innocent expression. Ebolath turned from man to woman and tilted her head a bit confused. Do I believe mine? Sometimes yes. Raylin burst out laughing at that comment and stroked her dragon’s neck before glancing back at T’rid. “Admirers huh? I might have to meet one of them and set them straight about you.” She teased. Oh sure, Raylin realized the bronze rider was set to go, and she wouldn’t stop him (After all she had suggested it) but she couldn’t resist getting in the last word.

Ebolath fanned her wings as she listened to Corinth. Yes I suppose they will take up some of your mines time. But luckily they are babies and babies have to grow up. They will not take up lots of time forever. The green nodded. I hope he does not give her away she is cute.

The green crooned a farewell to T’rid and Stupid as they started back towards the boat and Raylin gave a short wave. Goodbye My little one and thank you for the present. The green called out towards their retreating figures. Ebolath did not expect a response and she turned back to the barracks to follow hers.

((End Thread <333)