A Boy Needs his Mother (Meira)

[Requiem]

He'd gone for Riaren as soon as he'd confirmed with Jazz that Meira was at the Gather, too. It was an impulse move. But it was the correct one, that he didn't doubt. He still didn't know how he was going to tell Meira that the father of her boy was dead, though. Maybe he wouldn't. The idea of saying it out loud made his stomach clench. M'ta had tried to explain it to Riaren as best he could, but the boy was too young to understand 'dead'. He still thought R'wign had just gone away with all his mindmates, and kept asking when he'd be back. Teri understood. Teri, though, was an empath...

According to the records, all dragonriders were empathic to some extent, or they wouldn't be able to bond to dragons in the first place. Some people, though - and all of them females if the records were to be believed - actually had the gift (or curse) so strong that they could hear and sense everything. For some it was so bad that they couldn't block it out. Teri didn't have to understand death to feel the emptiness and grief associated with it. She'd been unusually quiet this entire sevenday, and determined to stick close to M'ta. The brownrider suspected that it had a lot to do with his need to have her with him.

M'ta cradled the sleeping toddler, his eyes absently on the face that held traces of his father in it. The eyes, at least, were covered by lids. Riaren had his father's eyes. It was perhaps odd to be sitting at this table with its rose, swathed in those 'romantic' colors, but there wasn't much in the way of seating anywhere else. And it was one of the best places to meet Riaren's mother. He had to admit...that the thought of seeing his friend's face again (no matter how tangled that relationship had become with R'wign's rampant jealousy and the Run that had resulted in Riaren) cheered him somewhat. A friendly face was something he desperately needed right now.

Behruth very carefully sought out Jingth's mind, being sure not to let any of his words leak to any other nearby dragons. She was just on the edge of range. JingthGold...Mine waits for Yours at the food stall as he promised. The brown's words were subdued. If the reality of his limited flight had been depressing, it was nothing compared to the loss of Checkoth and PMS.

[Avu]

She had…kind of been a mess all day.

Not all day. Since Jingth had asked her didn’t she want to see ‘ruth’s and the hatchling, because ‘ruth’s was at the Gather with the hatchling and they could arrange a meeting spot, if she’d like. And of course Meira wanted, wanted so badly that the food she’d been eyeing immediately lost its appeal. She hadn’t thought to ask why R’wign wasn’t with Riaren and M’ta, why Jingth hadn’t mentioned Checkoth—figured that it was just because Checkoth was afraid of Jingth or something. Had spent the time between then and now lingering on the edge of the Gather; couldn’t really focus on anything anymore. She’d recalled Mimic to her and had given up on keeping Echo away when the Razorclaw so badly wanted to be there, so at least she had them to ground her, the Salamandyr curled around her wrist like a bracelet, the bird a puddle of ruffled white feathers on her shoulder.

A start from Jingth stirred in the back of her mind, but there were no immediate words to her from the gold, only the sense that Jingth was being bespoken by somebody else. Meira managed not to actually jump, mostly for Echo’s sake, but she did go entirely still, gaze swinging automatically in the direction of the hidden dragons. A sense of quiet bemused concern from Jingth, and then: ’ruthmine does not sound happy, love. But he says that His is waiting for you. Is there anything you wish me to tell him? The words were quiet, somber. Jingth didn’t really remember Behruth or Checkoth or any of the other dragons very well, but she knew Behruth was not usually sad. Just didn’t know how to ask why, not after so long.

Not sure she still had that right at all.

Meira was already on her feet, managing to ignore the startled kreeek from Echo. Just that I’m coming. Anything you want. Now anxiety bled into anticipation. Behruth should not be sad. If something was wrong—with Riaren, with any of them—she sped up unconsciously. She was already fairly close to the dining area, mostly because she couldn’t make herself wander very far away. Her heart managed to jump into her throat at the sight of M’ta and Riaren, the exultation flashing into her eyes.

Except that she didn’t really know how to proceed—had so many questions about everything and there were seven months between them now. Echo filled the silence with a quiet, inquisitive chrrrr purr as Meira dropped into a chair hesitantly, unable to look away from Riaren. She’d missed M’ta too, probably would’ve hugged him if he hadn’t been holding Riaren who was sleeping, but Riaren would always come first. “He’s gotten so big…” The words came out almost disbelieving, a near-whisper. She’d been afraid that she would forget what Riaren looked like, but she didn’t think she had—just, he’d changed and she’d missed everything. And she was afraid to reach out, even to just touch his cheek or his hand. He was new again, breakable.

Mimic had no such fears. The Salamandyr positively streaked across the table, skidded to a breathless, delighted stop at the very edge of the table, uttering a loud happy croon. Loves! Not just Riaren, but M’ta too. All of them. Everyone. Everything. Happy.

[Requiem]

Behruth's duty discharged, the male settled into the space he'd made for himself not far from the food stall. The dragon didn't much care if it made the holders nervous. He didn't say as much to M'ta - in fact, the man was likely unaware, as steeped in their own individual sorrows as they were - but Behruth didn't want His out of his sight. There were so few left to him now. So few.

The brownrider didn't notice Meira immediately. It was the odd sound the tiny bird made that at last drew his attention, M'ta's eyes flicking up to the girl's shoulder with a swiftness that betrayed a startlement that wasn't evidenced in the rest of his body. Letting his mind wander. It was rare for people to sneak up on him, after all, particularly when that wasn't their intent in the first place.

He left his questions regarding the bird to be asked in gaze alone. M'ta couldn't really muster enough curiosity to put it into words. His leg slid out to push the chair back a little for her with foot. The brownrider couldn't keep the weariness from his smile, though it at least reached his eyes for the brief moment it touched his lips. "Yes. And growing by the day it seems." And now, at this moment that he'd worked towards, M'ta suddenly found the thought of parting with R'wign's son...difficult.

He wanted the boy to waken. Wanted to see the eyes again. Would he, ever, if he gave the child to his mother now? Was there anything else he could do without weighing down his conscience? The rawness of her few words struck him...no, he couldn't.

It was ridiculous, truly. That salamandyr's joyous exclamation did something to him, though. Maybe it was just too similar to two dragon hatchlings turns ago. Maybe it was the words. Maybe it was the still raw absence of his own mandyr. Whatever the reason, he found his eyes tearing swiftly. M'ta looked away and held Riaren out to Meira, stilling the trembling in his arms by will alone.

"I'm sorry you were parted so long." The brownrider swallowed, forced the words. "The boy needs his mother. Take him with you." M'ta looked at her then, smiled with only the faintest touch of longing. It was better this way. Riaren would not serve to take the place of R'wign in his heart, anyway, no matter what blood ran through his veins...no matter the color of his eyes or the many mannerisms he'd picked up from his father. The reminder would likely only draw out the pain.

M'ta held onto these thoughts to keep himself from changing his mind.

[Avu]

She should have noticed something was off. She should have, but she was too busy looking at Riaren, gaze sliding over her son, achingly glad that he was asleep. Couldn’t stand it if he couldn’t remember her, and didn’t know what she could possibly say to him whether or not he did—and then having to leave again, after. For the better that he remain asleep. They’d end up going their separate ways later and he wouldn’t have to remember it, but she’d know that he was still okay, and—her gaze swerved up to M’ta at his words, eyes wide. For a minute, Meira didn’t move, couldn’t quite remember how to hold Riaren who was bigger, but still small, without breaking him, waking him up. And she couldn’t just take him, even though she wanted to.

“Are you sure?” She was already reaching for Riaren as she spoke, though, gaze dropping from M’ta’s face back to Riaren, carefully curling her arms around the once-familiar weight and tucking him against her body, her motions slow and unsure again. Meira half-curled around Riaren automatically, brushing dark hair from his cheek, murmuring a reverent “Thank you” before she looked up at M’ta again, finally focused on him. He looked really—

Not good.

She could be remembering wrong. But Meira didn’t think she was (Jingth had said Behruth sounded—off), leaned forward to touch M’ta’s hand lightly, ignored Echo’s curious chirps as the Razorclaw peered down at Riaren, head tilted sideways, beady eyes blinking in bewilderment. T’san had said he’d seen M’ta a while ago, that he—they, he and Teri and Riaren—had been fine then. Seven months ago, maybe she could’ve figured it out without asking, but she didn’t really know anything about M’ta anymore, except that he’d just handed her son back to her again, that T’san had looked fine, better than fine, so it couldn’t be just a general Selenitas thing.

“Everything’s changed, hasn’t it.” The question was mostly rhetorical, the only way she could fill the silence as she tried to figure out just how bluntly she could ask without overstepping her bounds. Not that she was really better now than ever at keeping the concern off of her face, but that couldn’t really be helped. “Are you okay?” It was inelegant and seemed so redundant, but it was the simplest way of giving him as easy-out as she could manage. She could drop it, pretend she was inobservant enough to miss all the little things, if he wanted. Sure, it’d sting, but it wasn’t like M’ta wasn’t well within his rights to lie or whatever it might be called. Lie until it was true.

Loves? Mimic repeated, a question this time. The brown Salamandyr bounced back a pace, flashing an eager glance at Riaren, his body trembling with the desire to bolt to the much-missed baby, but resisted in favor of casting an anxious look at Meira and then at M’ta. Why weren’t they happy? Wasn’t there plenty of reason to be happy? His wings tucked against his sides, frill flat against his neck. Another glance between His and M’ta. Yes?

[Requiem]

It helped. As difficult as it might have been for others to believe, it did help to see Meira's expression when she took Riaren into her arms. To hear the thank you. To see the way she curled around him, protectively. Possessively. It was the right thing for him to do. Wherever the exiles had gone, they were well, and they weren't here where hatchlings were slaughtered for differences like Phremath's and Checkoth's. Like Feyrianth's. M'ta swallowed and nodded. "I'm sure."

The man twitched slightly at her touch, eyes focusing back on her face. Reading the concern there was hardly difficult. His usual defiance, the refusal to look away, didn't manifest. M'ta's gaze dropped to the table and lingered there. He knew what she'd ask and he didn't want to answer that question. Didn't really want to talk about it at all. Not because it was Meira, but because he was afraid he wouldn't be able to stop once he started. Like a dam breaking...

The brown spoke again. M'ta's eyes moved to him, taking the excuse to move his hand away from Meira's touch. He stroked a finger down the salamandyr's back. "Sorry, Mimic. We're glad to see you, too." He glanced at Behruth. The brown...had a tendency of leaving whenever it was spoken of. M'ta didn't want him to leave. This wasn't really something he wanted Meira to hear from someone else, though, not when she'd asked. The brownrider wasn't a deceitful person. Contemplating lying to a friend was even more...distasteful.

Behruth stirred. His wings, healed as well as they could be, showed undeniable evidence of being shredded even to an untrained eye as the brown unfurled them. Awkwardly took to wing. M'ta continued to watch him as he couldn't keep himself from doing since Ruth began flying short distances again, but the brown steadied, and then was lost to sight over the treeline. "No." The answer was long in coming. "R'wign and Checkoth...his lungs were bad, you know. It started as just a cold." Despite himself, the tears were gathering in his eyes again.

M'ta didn't let them fall. He couldn't look at Meira either, though. "I can tell myself anything I want, but the truth is...R'wign would have wanted Riaren to be with his mother if it was possible. I don't know how I'm going to raise Teri on my own as it is," he concluded in a near-murmur. The brownrider continued to stroke Mimic with a certain mindlessness. Not really seeing him.

His eyes flicked up to Meira's finally. "I didn't know how to tell you." Didn't really know how badly it would effect her, either. M'ta hadn't delved too deeply into the relationship between his weyrmate and his friend. Perhaps because he didn't want to know. It didn't matter if there weren't...feelings...the two had a child together. And they both meant enough to M'ta to invoke some jealousy. Easier to avoid the topic altogether, because he didn't want negative feelings involved with either. How hard would she take R'wign's death?

He probably didn't want to know that, either.

[Avu]

It was just that easy to soothe Mimic. The tension in the Salamandyr’s body drained out at the first touch, a hum bubbling into his throat as he tipped his head against M’ta’s hand, arched his back under the touches. A happy murmur rumbled in his throat, but he made no effort to speak, in case it was ruined again. Could tell His wasn’t relaxed yet, but she could be. She would be. Had to be. The Salamandyr licked M’ta’s palm lightly, tongue rasping against his skin affectionately. Didn’t notice, perhaps because he didn’t want to notice, that the touch was distracted at best, because as long as it was there, as long as the reassurance was there, a lie or not, then everything was okay.

Her gaze flicked briefly to Mimic, the trickle of contentedness, innocence. She wanted him not to be there, abruptly, or to be able to cover his ears—could settle only for tucking Riaren a little closer to herself. When Meira looked back up at M’ta, it was to realize that he was looking past her; instinctively, she followed his gaze to—Behruth. She hadn’t noticed him there before; had probably been more than distracted with Riaren and M’ta, but he didn’t look much better than M’ta and his wings, the brief unsteadiness of his flight—she didn’t look away until he disappeared over the trees, felt Jingth’s concern, her confusion, urgent in the back of her mind.

She didn’t answer the wordless questions, turned back to M’ta instead as he spoke. One word. She’d expected it, but it still had her biting her lip, brow knitting together. The mention of R’wign and Checkoth as the things being not okay—it had her going almost completely still in the chair. Wasn’t sure she wanted to hear, even if she didn’t quite know what to expect; if it was…

M’ta didn’t outright say it, but the words weren’t truly necessary, were they? She was distantly aware of Jingth pressing more insistently against her mind, concerned and unable to reassure, could not bring herself to answer the gold because it couldn’t possibly be true. R’wign was just—just always there. Not ‘there’ in the sense of ‘in her general proximity’, not in the past seven-eight months, but she’d never expected him to just not be, either. Even before she’d really known him he’d always been in the Infirmary and she’d expected him to still be there. Maybe not in perfect health—she’d seen him sick and hurt before—but there. A constant.

Meira swallowed, blinked, surprised that she wasn’t crying. Shouldn’t she be? There was just…numb. Disbelief. Stages of grief. No doubt the loss would come. It was worse for M’ta, had to be; she hadn’t seen R’wign for months and they’d been weyrmates. Just—she looked away, wordlessly. Should be used to this. People died all the time. But they weren’t real. She mindlessly brushed her fingers through Riaren’s hair, shook her head. Couldn’t believe—“T’san never said,” and the words came out shaky but didn’t crack. Her head bowed. Riaren had his father’s eyes, she remembered. A small fact, almost trivial, except that it wasn’t at all.

“I can’t—” She swallowed, bit her lip, and there it was, her throat tightening, as much as in sympathy for M’ta as for R’wign’s death. “I’m sorry.” The apology felt numb and inadequate. Not an apology for R’wign, but an apology for her own absence when it happened. Just as helpless, just as useless. Too late regardless. “I’m so sorry…”

Wanted to say, It gets better, but it would only be an empty promise, and she’d already made too many of those.

[Requiem]

The brownrider watched her for a long moment. It didn't really matter, though. What he could see in her face didn't speak to her thoughts. Only the shock of the news. After a moment he turned his attention back to Mimic. It was strangely comforting to just stroke the 'mandyr. Though if he let himself think too much he'd be missing PMS again. Teri had taken that death the hardest...perhaps not surprisingly. They'd been practically glued to one another since M'ta first adopted T'rid and Raylin's child.

M'ta blinked at Meira. "Oh." She'd talked to T'san, hm? "It might have slipped his mind. He...dealt with me more." That was as much as the brownrider cared to discuss. T'san really hadn't been back to the infirmary since Meira left. And with Ruth out of commission for so long M'ta had been taking care of the kids for the most part. R'wign worked twelve candlemarks a day, and those were his scheduled hours. Nevermind the extra time he habitually put in.

In the end, Meira didn't have to explain her words. Eight months could have been turns. M'ta had always been good at picking up what went unsaid, and Meira was his closest friend after R'wign. The brownrider closed his eyes, nodded, his throat tight. Accepted what she was offering. But he couldn't give her anything back. Because...well, what good would it do? Meira would be returning to her exile with R'wign's child soon enough. M'ta had many, many reasons to avoid alcohol, but the allure was strong these days. It wasn't like he had anyone anymore. All gone or gone.

Or depending on him not to fall apart.

Enough of this. "Is there anything that can be done to help you?" he questioned quietly, trusting her to know that he meant his old wing, the weyrlings and everyone else he'd helped evacuate. It was a topic more easily discussed. M'ta found it easier when he concentrated on necessities. Taking care of his family. Training the weyrlings. Helping the people he cared about. Though really there probably wasn't that much he could do on that front. M'ta was sort of in enough trouble already...he had little doubt they were watching him. (For once it wasn't paranoia.) Why wouldn't they be? He was the last member of Ka'rys' wing at Selenitas and Ruth had interfered at the Hatching. If anyone was likely to know anything or be sympathetic to the exiles it was M'ta.

He smiled slightly at Meira. "We're going to be okay. They made him weyrlingmaster, because of his wings. He likes it. Likes the 'littles', as he calls them."

[Avu]

There really…didn’t seem to be anything she could say, after that. Part of Meira was still stricken, wanted to find T’san and ask him if he’d really just forgotten, hated that she’d had to ask M’ta. You weren’t supposed to have to ask to know something like that. It didn’t seem like the death of a friend was something that you could just miss like that—could not know about for such a long time. Although, had it been a long time? It could have been months; could have been days. She didn’t want to ask. Whatever the answer was, it would only serve to be another emphasis on the distance between them. Funny how the extremes went; she’d been on top of the world earlier and now, even with Riaren, knowing that she’d never not know about his safety and well-being again, she couldn’t even manage to fake a smile anymore.

Almost preferred the apathy, preferred working until she was numb with exhaustion. She brushed her fingers lightly over the curve of Riaren’s cheek, mindlessly focused on the fan of his eyelashes over his pale cheeks. Wanted the grief to come now, the loss to settle in now. They’d receive odd looks, but they already kind of were, and it didn’t matter here; later would be…different. Had to be a leader, Healer, goldrider. Mother, again, never a title she could resent, but still a restriction. Did Riaren understand death? Did she want him to?

Her gaze swung back up to M’ta, eyes still wide. Couldn’t smile, even in response to his, but nodded, some of the tension bleeding out of her body. Weyrlingmaster was something to do, at least. A distraction. And Behruth—he would like that job, from what she recalled of the brown. “I’m glad.” The words still felt inadequate, sincere as they were. Wanted to say more, to ask, if ‘ruth was still hurting, how long it had been, if it would get better. A dragon’s memory span—sometimes she wished she had one, until she remembered how stubbornly Jingth held on to memories of people and dragons, that it didn’t really make anything better.

“I don’t want you to get in trouble,” even though Meira mentally considered what M’ta might be able to do, grateful for the chance to push away the choking shock, . What did they need? Information, she supposed. Supplies they had, even though they came with guilt at robbing the tithe trains. But she didn’t want to ask him to be a spy, even if he was willing, or anything dangerous. And associating with Burimyu at Selenitas—wasn’t that as dangerous as it got, now? And she wasn’t even sure where Burimyu was going, if it was their intention to live the rest of eternity as exiles and never look back, because trying to fight Selenitas outright seemed ludicrous, laughable.

Finally, she shook her head, shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just—I don’t know if anything’s going to happen. We can’t…do anything. Maybe ever.” Living on borrowed time, especially if they were going to keep at the tithe trains, especially if they were going to keep coming to Gathers like this. Especially if the rest of Burimyu was still as badly off as she was, unwilling to consider hurting friends. Family. Meira bit her lip against the you could come before it could escape. Had wanted to ask T’san too, but couldn’t expect either of them to be able to just disappear. Or for anyone at Burimyu to accept them, just like that.

[Requiem]

M'ta's smile faded quickly. It had been mostly for her benefit, anyway. He fidgeted slightly. Meira was making this difficult. Not on purpose, of course...what did he even expect, really? But still, she was. Possibly because he hated seeing her this way and was already regretting saying anything to her. (Though, really, was there any other choice? She definitely wouldn't be grateful to him for keeping it a secret, now would she?)

A nod was spared her. Glad. Something very wry came over his expression when she said she didn't want to get him in trouble. He sincerely doubted he'd avoid trouble for long. It was one of those things that seemed to dog him. So if it was going to come knocking anyway, might as well make the crime worth the repercussions, yes? But M'ta wasn't actually going to go looking for trouble. He still had Teri and 'Ruth to consider, after all. Nowhere to run to if things got bad, either. Better to avoid that entirely.

"...Yeah. I understand." His eyes lingered on Riaren for a moment, then slid away. He might never see these two again. The thought was surprisingly painful. It hadn't been...well, that made sense. They hadn't known they were to be separated of a certainty. It was much harder to see someone leave knowing that then to just have it happen. His finger traced a pattern on the table near Mimic for a moment. It was tempting. Tempting to ask her to take them with her.

He couldn't, though. Behruth's only solace was the weyrlings. M'ta couldn't ask him to leave that behind. Nor could he take Teri away into exile where they had to steal to survive, where at any time M'ta and Ruth may not come back and she'd be alone. Before there had always been someone else. Now security meant everything. The brownrider wasn't used to placing his own safety so high, but Teri needed him and so did 'Ruth. This job of his would keep them all safe. Maybe not happy. But safe.

Just as it would be safer not to have met with Meira at all. The brownrider ignored that thought, though. He stood, came around to her side of the table and put his arm around her. "I'm sorry, Meira. I wish I had better news for you." It was surprisingly easy to ignore the ache inside him with her here. "If there ever is anything you can do, or anything that you need...Ruth and I won't forget any of you. It's not much, but it's something."

[Avu]

Meira barely noticed the offended meep that preceded Echo’s fluttered departure, automatically, carefully, shifting Riaren so she wouldn’t disturb him when she leaned against M’ta. Exhaled. She didn’t look up at him, but nodded anyway at his words. They came as more of a relief than she’d expected. No good news, but she probably shouldn’t have expected any anyway. Just…hadn’t known it would be that bad. She curled one palm over the curve of Riaren’s cheek. “It’s everything. We’ll try.” It was as much of a promise as she could manage. Still didn’t feel like she really fit in with anyone at Burimyu except the others who had picked up an interest in Healing, with E’rro—didn’t really know if they wanted to come home or just stay at Burimyu forever.

But she wouldn’t want to come home at all if there was nobody to come home to.

“I was thinking,” she said after a moment, looking at Mimic across the table as the Salamandyr chirruped curiously at Echo, who had fluttered to land on M’ta’s vacated chair, “If I could get Mimic to be taken to Selenitas.” Actually saying the words instead of just thinking them made it seem like even more of an achingly lonely prospect, but there was no room for a Salamandyr at Burimyu, not with so many wild Razorclaws around who would gladly attack Mimic. And he missed Doppelganger and Lilitu to the point of being sick, even if he did his best to be happy for everybody else, so…“I think he could probably get someone to look after him—Mi’rah or F’lix? But if you needed to get out, he could…?”

The question, the offer, petered out before she could finish it, because Meira wasn’t really sure what Mimic could do. Directions, maybe? Surely she’d still be able to feel him, however far away he was, however weak the connection may be; he was hers. And he was miserable at Burimyu. Had to be with her constantly to avoid the danger presented by the Razorclaws, couldn’t really make new friends. She could cope—had Jingth, Echo. Riaren, now. And some people at Burimyu had left their Salamandyrs behind. It was feasible.

Her gaze lifted, shoulders hitching upwards in a minute shrug in order not to jostle Riaren. Having him in her arms again would take some getting used to. “You could come, if you needed to.” If you wanted to, went unsaid, because if she went down that road she’d want him to just come now, and she couldn’t do that. If it was necessary, though—if Mimic could do anything, provide any guidance, even if he couldn’t give coordinates to between to or accurate images or even give grammar-perfect directions, then…she didn’t have to feel as guilty for giving him the option, did she?

[Requiem]

M'ta followed her gaze to Mimic, settling beside her and letting her lean against him. He didn't mind any of it. Meira had always been someone easy for him to get along with, from the first day he'd met her in the archives turns ago. And, yes, he'd had a crush on her for awhile. She wasn't the first girl, though she had been the last. The brownrider's crushes never meant anything, though, not when he was never willing to act on them. Not that he had one anymore.

"I..." M'ta frowned slightly, shifting at her offer. It wasn't fully voiced. He could pretend to misunderstand. Could. It wasn't much like him to be deceitful in any fashion, though. In fact, it was quite difficult for him to even try. "I want to. It's just...Ruth can't really fly. What use would we be? And I don't know how it would effect him right now to have to deal with that."

Could have ignored her unspoken thoughts, but if he had, well...M'ta didn't want Meira to think that he didn't want to leave this place and be with her. His friends were in really short supply at Selenitas. His whole wing was elsewhere. And Meira. Merridan. "I have Teri, too. She's safer at the Weyr right now. And it's pretty safe working with the weyrlings. I don't want her to grow up without a family."

M'ta squeezed Meira lightly. "But I'll keep it in mind. And we don't mind taking Mimic back with us so he can be with Doppleganger and his mate." His eyes lighted on the bird that had usurped his chair. "What is that, by the way?" he questioned. Avians were not unusual - though he didn't remember seeing this particular type - but it seemed to...be Meira's pet.

[Avu]

She’d expected that.

Meira closed her eyes briefly, nodded. She understood—would probably have made the same decision if it had been her at Selenitas with Riaren and M’ta at Burimyu instead of the way it was. That only made it worse, though: She couldn’t even argue, try to convince him to leave. Better that way in the end, of course. It was probably already bad enough at Selenitas now without her giving him a way out and pushing him to take it. Didn’t need that kind of pressure. Wouldn’t want it. Still, at least Mimic would be available. And happy, however long that might last, with Lilitu and Doppelganger. The Salamandyr was silent, but the quiet flicker of his excitement, the dawning understanding, made his agreement clear enough.

M’ta’s gesture at Echo of all things made her blink, momentarily unable to comprehend why he would be inquiring after the Razorclaw. Echo had become a big enough part of her life (at least the two-hour interval feedings had ended with her maturity, or she would’ve been in a permanent state of semi-conscious exhaustion) that it seemed odd to think of her as being anything close to strange, foreign. But right; they didn’t have Razorclaws at Selenitas, like they never had Salamandyrs in the North. She huffed a laugh, shaking her head at the ordinary topic, one that didn’t make her insides knot.

“It’s a ‘she’,” she explained, as Echo perked up at the attention, ruffling her feathers importantly and offering M’ta a half-condescending, half-curious kree? “Echo.” She shrugged. “They’re calling them Razorclaws. Found a nest of babies hatching unattended and you know…” She crinkled her nose. “If babies are hatching, then everyone’s going to make a dash for them.” Even for birds. Especially for birds. Meira expected that nobody had expected them to really bond—she’d gone for curiosity, mostly, but also because she’d figured that maybe a baby bird would’ve served as a distraction. Temporary.

“The bonds are very weak,” she added, softer. “But they’re expressive enough. And like to eat Salamandyrs and firelizards, the wild ones.” Echo had made several attempts at Mimic, too, although that had abated as time went on; now the most she ever made was a halfhearted attempt that seemed more playful than truly malicious. Probably since Mimic had come first—she would’ve hated to think what would’ve happened if Mimic had been the one she Impressed late. “I don’t know. At the least, they’re entertainment.”

Could carry messages, like firelizards could, she thought. Maybe not big ones since they had to fly and bear the weight a firelizard could simply go between with, but still. But not a task she wanted to train Echo to, because right now the possibility was just that. Making it reality would…not be good.

[Requiem]

M'ta snorted softly, flashed a half-smile at Echo just in case the bird could actually differentiate expressions. Or maybe for Meira's sake. He made no comment on them. For one...well, it was possible, he supposed, that they actually bonded. But they weren't draconic and it was far more likely people just tricked themselves into believing as much. It couldn't be easy living in exile. If these birds were eating flits and 'mandyrs he could easily see why some might take imprinting as impressing. Not something to be mentioned.

"Weyrfolk and eggs. It never fails," he agreed dryly, the quirky smile turned on Meira stating without words that despite the mildly ironic tone she'd taken, she'd clearly been there, too. Echo stood in evidence before them, did she not? Sneak did not like this talk of birds who ate flits like himself and coiled tighter around M'ta's bicep, his concentration split now between the dangerous avian and the salamandyr still on the table. (Not even the threat of being eaten could steal attention from 'mandyrs.)

"Mimic," M'ta called quietly, extending the arm with Sneak coiled around it toward the salamandyr. "Come up off the table." He turned his head to murmur to Meira, "Really shouldn't leave him out in the open you know. My sister brought hers, too. Someone's going to notice all these 'holders' with 'mandyrs walking around." The paranoid portion of M'ta's nature - a large portion indeed - suggested to him that he really should break off contact with Meira soon. He'd made himself too well-known and the last thing he wanted was to cause his friend any trouble.

As far as the mandyrs went, though, Sneak was an expert at spotting them. It might be a bit unfair. M'ta was seeing almost all of them, though, due to Sneak's interest. Many were with Selenitas riders. Either the wastelanders were stupid, unobservant, or they were watching and secretly gloating to themselves as they made note of who spoke with who and which holders probably weren't holders at all. M'ta forced himself to withdraw from the Bitran mentality for a moment. Even if it was difficult not to think like that now that there was an emptiness in his weyr...even if living in the past before R'wign was one of the only things that kept the brownpair sane some nights.

The familiar doubts were rising. Meira shouldn't have given him this option. The desire to go was growing...and he was beginning to find reasons to back it up. Talking himself into what he wanted. Dangerous. "Meira...my daughter. She seems to be speaking to the dragons. 'Ruth and Feyrianth, and Caden's Nitrath for sure." A note of worry had entered into his voice. So far she hadn't drawn attention from negative directions...but she was too young to understand that she needed to be careful who she contacted. Teri just talked to the ones she liked.

"I've never met anyone who can do that." Hoping that Meira may have answers for him. He was reluctant to talk to anyone else about it.