Priorities (Mi'rah)

[Rowana]

Star was hungry.

Not that this was unusually, as it was practically her constant state of being when she wasn't sleepy, but today it had prompted her to do something about it. That meant finding someone to feed her. The more logical choice might have been to just find some food, but Star had found it was often easier to find an appropriate person and blackmail them into fetching food with certain pictures. It worked on some of the kitchen staff quite well and required much less energy.

G'tor had so nicely been teaching her how to between to all sorts of useful places too. He said it was so she could be more useful in emergencies, but Star only cared that it gave her more places to find food, or people to demand it from. Another logical choose for getting food might seem to be G'tor himself, but since he'd been refusing to feed her all the time, Star had to resort to other humans. She was not getting fat, after all, she was just nicely round.

All this brought Star to appear inside a certain Wingleader's weyr some time after dinner. Outside was growing dark and the whers were just coming out of their dens. It was a perfect time for an evening snack for Star. The tiny white salamandyr crawled under a sheet on the bed, seeking out her chosen victim. Finding Mi'rah's mind, she invaded it with several lovely images: first of him feeding Star delicious sweet meat, and then of him not feeding her and promptly being devoured by a flock of voracious darters. Where she'd gotten the idea for man eating avians, only Faranth knows.

[Lotty]

He had just began preparing for bed. Not that it actually took a whole lot for a man to get ready, but it always - for someone as methodical as Mi'rah was - began with a few simple steps. Usually he would sit upon the edge of his bed and begin to unbutton his shirt, but more importantly, this was always preceded by him pulling back the blankets on his mattress. This was not when he noticed Star however. He continued with his routine as his own pets then settled into their grooves, Doppelganger who usually curled there against his neck had taken to entangling himself with Mimic ever since the twin mandyrs had been reunited, while Peccadillo on the other hand began to stretch out on one of the man's pillows. There was harmony within the peaceful little kingdom that was Mi'rah's weyr.

But as he loosened the collar on his shirt, the most unusual... near disturbing visual hit his mind, and he immediately turned his head over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of what Peccadillo was up to. Such games were typically her doing, but visuals were never involved. Kierjaarth was suspected, but then, the bronze was well on his way to a good slumber. Curious. Bothersome. Then it hit him again and he realized somewhere there between metal images of attacking avians, that the evil little puppetmaster wasn't his own, but G'tor's instead. How did he know this? Well, the bronzerider never forgot a face, and this extended even to those of dragonkin. Afterall, how many in this weyr had a white salamandyr?

"Out.....of my weyr.....p-please..." he rose to his feet and began looking around the room. She had to be around here somewhere, he just didn't know exactly. Peccadillo on the other hand had a hunch, and seeing her own personal slave flustered upset her immensely. Hopping off of the pillow she began tunneling down under the sheets, her yellow markings glowing through the fabric, all the while hissing Find you ugly... pray not. Slavestealer....... The green, continued her hunt there underneath the bed clothes while Mi'rah simply tried to nip the whole situation in the bud, reaching out to wake up his dragon. Guh. Kierjaarth, so kindly inform Ruskeath that his bonded's pet is.... What was the word for it? Oh yes, creeping me out... I'll pass it along, but never stir me from slumber again. Diva.

[Rowana]

Tor-mine, Ruskeath's voice was innocent and calm. "Hmm?" G'tor was in the middle of changing and looking forward to a good night's sleep. Drills, threadfall, and keeping people out of trouble had left him pretty tired. Have you forgotten anything? "Huh?" G'tor yawned and blinked at his dragon in confusion. What could he have forgotten? He'd fetched his laundry from the lower caverns an hour ago and he was sure he'd remembered to come his hair this time. Everything seemed perfectly normal. Ranchan was already sleeping near his pillow, Tervain had her usually high perch on a ledge, and Star...

G'tor blanched. "Shards and shells!" Star wasn't on her usually blue and green pillow where she always slept. In fact, he couldn't remember seeing her for nearly an hour. Searching for her mentally wasn't helping, since apparently she was too busy to mind him. Great, who knew what kind of trouble she was causing. Maybe he aught to give up and just feed her before bed! "Where is she, Rusk?" he asked tiredly. Please don't be pestering some cranky Wastelander, he muttered.

With Kierjaarth's, Ruskeath told him, trying not to laugh. Apparently she is being creepy. G'tor sighed. Well, it wasn't Wastelanders, but it was almost just as bad. Of all people she could have picked to pester, it had to be his Wingleader. "I'm going to starve her," he muttered crossly. "As soon as I find a way to keep her from betweening." He should have known this would happen when he taught her to be better at that trick. Pulling a jacket over his night clothes, G'tor jogged down the halls and over the bridge to Mi'rah's room. Star just had to be on the other side of the Canyon, after all.

Finally arriving at his destination, G'tor tapped lightly on the door. Hopefully Star hadn't caused too much trouble with her picture talent.

Star meanwhile, had gone silent in favor of Peccadillo as possible. Mean and nasty green she was, Star thought. She wasn't stealing him, just borrowing. G'tor was better than her funny human, anyway, even if he wouldn't feed her all the time. Slinking away through the sheets, Star climbed behind the pillows and held still. If she were bigger, Peccadillo wouldn't be so mean to her.

[Lotty]

Mi'rah was passing the time that it took for G'tor to arrive by sort of bungling around as he always did. It was a focused sort of awkward fumbling at least, his hands reaching for the bed clothes - tipped off of course only by the movements of his Peccadillo - and pulling at edges up and down up and down. He would shake them out if he really had to, which is exactly what he had planned. Certainly nothing would get accomplished doing it the hard way like his little green had planned. Little did he know that the pair of salamandyrs had already sneaked off to the head of the mattress where his pillows lay. Exactly what the man wanted, little mandyr feet all over the place he put his face at night.

This was interrupted by the knock at the door, and in turn his blue eyes glinted with a cool frost. "Ah..." he said to what appeared to be the air, "I b-bet you mind you manners now," before turned over to the door and opening it with little preamble - he knew who and what to expect after all - and launched right away into what could only be intended for the brownrider... not that this eliminated all or any of the usual politeness Mi'rah liked to use, "I am sorry to... call you all this w-way G'tor, but I am q-quite easily flustered with a..... animals." Which was evident by the extremes he was willing to go; without much thinking he had grabbed the bottom end of his cane that had been perched there next to his bed and began thwacking the mounds of blankets and furs with the rounded end again and again. What? He didn't want to kill anything, just scare it off, explaining, "I-I think yours has it out for me."

Peccadillo meanwhile hissed pitifully as she caught the rustling Star had caused in the sheets and just about caused a royal mess when she saw the white climb right over her precious pillows. Oh no, that would not do! Did the little infidel not understand the world of hurt she would bring? Horrible horrible ideas and plots were running through the dark green's head as she began stalking the other mandyr. With quiet little steps she found her target, eyes whirling with mischief as every minuscule muscles in those tinker toy legs of hers bunched together with potential energy. Just as the tension was about to be released however, Mi'rah's cane came down again, bouncing against downy feathers and launching the green off the side like a trampoline. Mid-spring, the creature was lucky enough to catch her weight on glassy, clear wings, and hovered her way over to Mi'rah. MO-RON-RAH! Kill Pecca? Wrong one! Kill ugly!

[Rowana]

G'tor shook his head quickly as he came inside. "You're not the one who should be sorry," he assured Mi'rah. Shards, but Star was going to be in huge trouble after this. She usually only pulled this kind of stunt with the kitchen staff. He was a bit taken aback at Mi'rah's extreme measures, though not especially worried. Star was a pretty small target after all. She must really have done something nasty to make the Wingleader this flustered though. Before he could suggest a better way, Star shot out from the pillows and ran up into his shirt. Her frantic emotions and images proved that she had had more than enough of mean greens and attacking canes.

G'tor rolled his eyes at the tiny lump and pulled her out to look at her properly. "Well?" he demanded. "What do you have to say?" Star squirmed. G'tor was being so mean! Couldn't he see how mean they were being to her? Couldn't they just go home and have some food? "No food for you," G'tor scolded. "Not until you apologize." Star gave a tiny, adorable sigh and turned to Mi'rah. She was sorry, she projected. Images declared that she wouldn't come see him and his horrible salamandyr and evil cane again. Maybe it wasn't the most sincere of apologies, but it was clear enough for a salamandyr.

[Lotty]

Luckily, Mi'rah was the first to accept apologies. He gave them abundantly and as such, it was only appropriate that he would taken them just as well. Peccadillo however was not cut from the same cloth. Settling down onto the bronzerider's shoulder she looked onto the white mandyr with obvious disgust swirling in her eyes, as if she was no more than a firelizard. A stinking, gross, firelizard... and she would soon have her revenge. In fact, Star had shot up to the top of her list, it was only a matter of time. Flickering her spiny frill, the tiny green remained silent as she considered her options... maybe Guru could help her out? He had to be good for something right? Or perhaps her very own pair of dumb brown roommates. Shards, she would enlist the help of Kierjaarth if it was totally necessary.

"Apology... accepted. Honestly I couldn't... stay mad if I tried, especially not with you G'tor," because honestly, even if he never said it explicitly, Mi'rah thought of the brownrider as being one of the best friends that he had. Of course, the concept of a friend was weird to the former Bendenite, but the fisherman was someone that he trusted dearly, and that was enough for him. Trust worthy, and honest, and good.... but unfortunately this didn't mean that he had a whole lot to say to him. Having stopped his cane assault - and thusly realizing that it was a bit overboard - the bronzerider stood there somewhat at a loss, wringing the crutch of his between his two hands and trying his best not to look so awkward about it all. It was safe to say he was failing miserably.