Give me Your Hand (Lir)

[Requiem]

The boy sat at his usual table, a smaller one set off in the corner where he could look out over the entire crowd of milling people, picking out the familiar faces as he fed Lord and took his own midday meal. One leg was tucked beneath him, the other swinging well above the ground as he hummed a tuneless something to himself that apparently pleased his blue, because the male was humming back from his spot half-hidden down Miguel's shirt. Taking a mouthful of tubers, he chewed contemplatively, watching a few older boys not far away (just under candidate age) and made up a conversation in his head to fit their body language. His quiet blue eyes drifted past them for a moment, brushing the crowd until...they stopped on a familiar figure.

Glancing toward the kitchens where he could go get the food he'd come for, he knew that she wouldn't be awake for another couple of candlemarks. The heat was tiresome for everyone...most came and went as quickly as they could here, simply to get away from the added heat of a ton of bodies in close proximity. Miguel found the temperature negligible, however, and Lord liked it. They had to go swimming much more often because of it, after all, and the blue loved to swim. Especially with His. Miguel loved to swim, too; it was the only place where his leg didn't matter at all.

Sliding off the bench, he managed a surprisingly quick pace for a boy with a twisted leg, sliding up beside the table with minimal fuss. There he stood for a long moment, not really knowing how to approach this. He smiled at the firelizard he didn't recognize, though, making a soft crooning sound and waving to him. Emboldened, the little boy climbed up onto the bench beside K'lir, resting his head on his bicep and asking, "What's his name?" Lord had done a vanishing act, only the tail still coiled around Miguel's neck remaining visible. (Though strangers petrified Miguel, he knew most everyone at Selenitas by face, and not one of them had ever tried to hurt him. Being six, it didn't occur to him that any would. But even had he been as paranoid as a seasoned northern fighter, he would have felt comfortable with the greenrider.) The boys fingers curled through K'lir's.

[glamourie]

The approach of someone coming toward his excited Shade enough that he launched into chattering that was silenced only by a mental command from the bronze salamandyr perched precariously on the end of a moderately sized bowl of meat. Most of it was finely chopped, and K’lir was steadily working at making it bite-sized for salamandyrs – and for once, Showoff was waiting patiently for him to finish before diving into the deliciousness. The meat was covered in rich red wine – no doubt filched from the kitchens – to make it the bronze ‘mandyr’s favorite snack ever. It was the only thing he ate more than he did eggs. Marinated chunks of herdbeast meat, yum. Had to be raw though or he wouldn’t touch it. Spoiled little creature, really. Shade excitedly flapped his wings from K’lir’s shoulder and flashed him an image of the approaching figure – look, look, it was the little! – and then leapt down to nose dive into the bowl of meat. Showoff’s response was a clear frill of disdain that His couldn’t see and a quiet hiss. Stupid flyer. Stupid flyer.

“Miguel.”

The greeting was offered before the boy even spoke, and K’lir did not turn to face him – namely because it was pointless. Not like he could see him. He vaguely remembered what Miguel looked like and the weird, obscured images that Shade showed him helped some. Some. The boy speaking made him smile and he cut another piece of meat off before holding it out – and Showoff snatched it from his grasp stubbornly. The greenrider wore a decidedly amused look.

“He’s Shade. Showoff doesn’t like him very much – but Showoff doesn’t like flitters much in general. He thinks they’re annoying. Is your flitter with you? I didn’t hear him at all – but he doesn’t make much noise, does he?”

The hand curling around his made him smile and he wound his fingers through Miguel’s lightly, putting the knife down with his other hand. His mindmates had more than enough to contentedly munch while he talked. He didn’t really have that many people to talk to and Miguel was a welcome distraction from the dramatic antics of his flitter and salamandyr. As much as K’lir loved them, he… didn’t want to deal with only them all the time. It was lonely to have no people to talk to. Baoth was only so good for conversations. The green was mostly his practice partner – the two of them had taken to flying and actually betweening (using his memory and land marks that Baoth could see) to see how much they could accomplish with him being unable to see. So far, so good – but he’d hate to have betweened somewhere he didn’t remember. Hnf. Baoth would probably require cues from other dragons to go places she didn’t see. That was the only thing he was coming to acknowledge.

Cocking his head to the side, K’lir stared blankly in front of his face, but he wore a wry smile – definitely genuine. “What are you doing down in the main hall all by yourself? Not having lunch with S’rei or Aliscia? Not that I mind the company. Does Lord want some of the meat? It’s marinated in wine but it shouldn’t be enough to cause him problems – Showoff likes it that way and he’s welcome to some, I promise Showoff will be good.” The salamandyr looked at Miguel and frilled half-heartedly before going back to munching. Food was more important than being defiant, at least for the moment.

[Requiem]

The little boy wasn't sure how he knew right away, but he was glad just the same. Didn't want to surprise K'lir, after all, especially with a knife in his hand. Cuts hurt. Well, deeper ones, anyway. He watched the new baby flit and the salamandyr with curiosity. Lord had poked enough of his head up past the opening of his shirt to get a good look at them too, nostrils flaring slightly at the smell of the meat. Fortunately, he'd already had his dinner, and there was no strong desire to brave the salamandyr's displeasure; Lord was skittish at best, and almost always fled at the first sign of hostility.

"Shade," he repeated, as if turning the name over in his mouth to see if it tasted right. He smiled then. Yes, he liked that name, even though the brown seemed the opposite of shady, he did. "He's here, just shy," he responded to K'lir's question, and Lord responded, too. Just a quiet squeak (one that he really hoped that Showoff and Shade wouldn't notice).

Waving to Showoff with his other hand, the boy responded to the easier of the questions first. "Lord just ate." He didn't add that the blue was fairly terrified of Showoff, or that the firelizard was currently doing his best to hide and watch at the same time from the safety of the boy's shirt. Squeezing his hand a little tighter, Miguel glanced back over his shoulder. "Lish's baby made her sick. She stays home. Daddy stays, too, works there most of the time. I'll take food home," he finished decisively, but there was just the smallest trace of uncertainty in his voice. He wasn't a demanding child. Never would be...and he wasn't ignored, either. But lately...they had been too busy for Miguel. Or too sick. He entertained himself, yes, but he was beginning to get lonely, lonely enough to wander and get into things and get scolded, which always made him want to burrow into the ground.

And he was old enough to realize that the baby was likely to take up most of their time. He'd heard the talk about the twins being brought back. He liked the twins, but Lish would have enough to pay attention to with those three. At best he might help. Miguel was feeling a little like an outsider, and he was worried. But he didn't mention any of that. For one, it would sound very selfish...and in a way, it was. He knew they cared about him, so why was he upset that they were going to be paying him less attention? Not upest really, though, just...lonely. Yes. Lonely.

"Where is Kahrelir?" he questioned quietly. They'd had limited contact, neither boy spending much time in the creche at all what with plenty of people willing to watch them, but he knew the child in passing. He would have thought that K'lir would want his son close. Especially now.

[glamourie]

“Don’t be silly. You can stay here and eat with me. I’m going to be getting something shortly – one of the drudges if bringing out some roast, and I’m sure I won’t eat it all.” K’lir snorted. He rarely ate enough that someone would deem it a real meal; he had a very small stomach to be sure. After Calistoth’s death, K’lir’s desire to eat had all but disappeared and it never quite came back – hence being so skinny that it was possible to count his vertebrae when he sat down. He hadn’t changed much from losing his sight, though he required more help than he liked to accept and it was humbling to learn to do everything over again. Eating habits, though, remained the same. Pick at it until he got full and then give the rest to his salamandyr or someone else’s pet. There would be more than enough for a child as small as Miguel, he was sure. “If you want to, anyway. It’d be nice to have someone I can talk to who doesn’t call me a dunghead every other breath.” K’lir scooted over in his seat to give Miguel some room, in case he wanted to take the invitation.

Dungheadmine bring ugly. Not like. Not like at all.

Showoff totally ignored Lord. He wasn’t a threat to him because he was just a shy little blue and the bronze salamandyr was usually practical in picking fights. He was more threatened by Shade who insisted on latching to His and chattering happily. Showoff had no tolerance for flitters, but especially none for those that insisted on trying to claim his slave as theirs. K’lir had been his for turns. He barely shared with Baoth let alone the flying ugly. Grr.

“Kahrelir?” K’lir asked, and then he bowed his head slightly. “He’s – I asked Kalierre to look after him. I can’t really, since I can’t see…” His eyes were blank, staring straight ahead, but if he could have seen, he would’ve turned away at the question. No matter how kind Miguel was about it, the question dug deep into wounds he hadn’t yet addressed. K’lir smiled weakly. “He still doesn’t talk. I think he’s scared to talk, scared of being annoying or something. He’s not. Far from. But… if he won’t talk, I can’t be the father he needs.” He drummed his fingers on the table top. “I thought Kalierre would be happy to look after him, since she doesn’t have any babies of her own.” He didn’t mention why Kalierre didn’t have any children of her own or that she couldn’t – Miguel was too young to understand those things and though K’lir treated him as an adult frequently, he hadn’t forgotten that little fact. He likely never would. Besides, it was disrespectful to Kali to tell those secrets.

Rubbing his nose, he hummed thoughtfully. “I didn’t know you and Rel were friends?” He was actually rather surprised by Miguel asking after him. Miguel was older than Kahrelir by a couple turns, though he thought Rel was extremely mature for his age – it was easy to forget how young he was. He supposed in some ways Miguel didn’t have many friends around his own age, though – most weyrbrats were much younger. Babies everywhere, ick. “I’m sure Kalierre will bring him to the infirmary if you need someone to, um, listen to you.” Maybe he was just asking after Rel because he knew Kahrelir was his son. Possible. “I just realized you were probably asking to be polite. Sorry, I’m kind of slow today. If you wanted to meet him though, I can introduce you two the next time I go visit. He’d like you, I think.”

[Requiem]

Well, he'd actually meant that he should bring food back to S'rei and Aliscia, but Miguel didn't care to make a fuss over it. They hadn't asked him to and would be fine if he didn't, after all, and K'lir seemed to want to talk to him. Seemed to want him there. No, neither of his caretakers were cruel or didn't want him, but he still felt like he was interrupting their lives most of the time, like they were...just being nice or something and he was really more of a pest. He missed his mom. The sudden pang made little Lord creel quietly, scratching at the boy's chest to make it go away, then creeling louder when his claws came away bloody. Miguel crooned quietly to him and locked that thought away...couldn't distress Lord.

The boy scooted over with the greenrider, getting just close enough so that the man would feel his presence, his small legs swinging idly above the floor. He blinked at Showoff. Was he...no K'lir just said that the salamandyr called him Dunghead.

Miguel's head dipped slightly. He didn't - quite - understand everything that K'lir was saying. The words were not too difficult, no, but he felt there was something beneath it that he couldn't grasp. The pain was something he understood, though. K'lir had to let someone else take care of Rel...that meant he was alone now, didn't it? Yes, that Miguel understood. But he didn't interrupt the greenrider. It would have been ever so impolite, and he was an adult. You don't interrupt adults.

"I know him," he finally responded, quietly. Once K'lir had finished speaking. "A little. He would play blocks with me. We built things. I like him." Lapsing into a silence that felt comfortable to the young boy, he took to watching the salamandyr again in fascination. It was...a strange idea. Miguel knew it wasn't his fault. He did. But K'lir had saved him, and now he couldn't see and was alone. Miguel felt alone too. Maybe...? He probably should ask Daddy first, but he knew Daddy would be a little hurt, and he didn't want to upset him if K'lir didn't want to... Mulling over that for a long moment, he finally decided.

"K'lir? Would...would it be okay...if I live with you? If I'm bad you could send me back," he was quick to add, shifting awkwardly in his seat. He should say why. But he didn't want to make them sound bad...they weren't bad. Miguel added quietly, "Daddy lives with 'Liscia, and she has lots of babies." He didn't say more than that, hoping it would be enough for K'lir to understand.

[glamourie]

The quiet creeling made K’lir cock his head to the side, listening intently. It stopped, followed by a soft sound – reassuring? – and the greenrider stilled anxiously. He mentally prodded Showoff, who frilled back at him defiantly and silently informed him that he hadn’t done anything to upset the flying stupid – even if all the flyers inevitably deserved it – and anyway, why was he always prone to blaming him? Blame someone else! Showoff hissed softly and dove back into the bowl of meat, obviously sulking, and K’lir raised an eyebrow without following his movements. He could hear the squelching of meat and was able to deduce what his salamandyr had done. Showoff. Tch. He didn’t even have the energy to get annoyed at him for sulking so easily – and he believed him. He did wonder what upset Lord, if Showoff hadn’t though. (See how much he trusted his salamandyr to behave? Heh.)

“He loves his blocks. In my weyr, before – we built an entire Hold out of blocks. Well, in miniature. Took us two weeks to finish it, but it was fun. And tearing it down was just as fun.” Because it meant they got to rebuild it – except before they could, he’d gotten hurt, and he couldn’t very well build a Hold out of blocks when he couldn’t see. Kahrelir was old enough to understand, he supposed, but he still felt like he was breaking a promise. That feeling was almost worse than the feeling of “abandoning” him. He’d never broken a promise to Kahrelir before – he’d gone out of his way to avoid doing that. “I didn’t know you two were friends – but I’m glad of it. He could use more friends to play with. He spends way too much time around adults…”

Rubbing his nose, K’lir ran his tongue over his teeth. Miguel’s question surprised him enough that he angled his ear toward the boy, as if to make sure he could hear him clearly. Confusion flared over his face for a moment before he said softly, “Miguel, I doubt you could be ‘bad’ by my definition.” He was a little leary about saying ‘yes’ immediately though. He’d just let Kahrelir leave – could he take care of Miguel? True, the boy was more than self-sufficient, but… he didn’t know if he could. And would S’rei even be comfortable with that? The explanation was something that he more than understood, but… “Have you asked S’rei about this?” He didn’t think Miguel had – and he wasn’t about to say ‘yes’ unless he knew that it was okay with S’rei. Would Miguel understand that? He didn’t seem like the type to throw tantrums for not getting his way, but it still might drive a rift if Miguel got upset over it. Tricky, tricky.

“Aliscia does have a lot of babies.” He crinkled his nose. “Too many, in my opinion. I don’t think I could handle that many babies around.” He brought one hand up and rested his chin on his hand. “If your daddy is comfortable with you staying with me, Miguel, I am – but only if he is. I don’t want to make him feel awkward or put him in a bad situation. Do you understand…? I think you should ask him.” He didn’t mind the idea of asking S’rei himself, but it was Miguel’s request, and Miguel needed to be the one to ask him as a result. “Once you’ve talked to him, then you can come and talk to me – or he can. But you have to talk to him first.”