Where’s Dinner? (Tags Avu, Open)

[Rei]

Why did he leave Dinner all by herself? “Well darling he couldn’t take her with. Who ever heard of a chicken traveling between?” I guess. I will stay here until you feed her. I can’t get up there anyway. “Ok love. I’ll see you in a bit.” Raylin gave Ebolath’s head a single loving caress, and then began to ascend the staircase with her basket.

I can’t believe he is so bound and determined to keep people out. He couldn’t have picked a harder weyr to get to. I hate these stairs. The green weyrling complained as she began the long climb. Well when I can fly you won’t have to climb them anymore. Besides you could use the exercise. "Thanks" Raylin mumbled crossly.

Stepping off the staircase the green rider made her way down the hallway and paused to knock on the door. Shaking her head she opened it and stepped inside. “Dinner? I brought you some food.” Raylin scanned the weyr and frowned. Where was that silly hen? “Here chick, chick, chick, chicky” She sang in a sing song, hoping to draw the animal out from wherever she was hiding. I bet you sound silly mine. Raylin rolled her eyes.

[Avu]

The bronzerider's weyr was not nearly as messy as it usually was, nor were the items that created the mess the usual collection of discarded clothing, papers, and what have you. Rather, the floor was definitely there, looking almost plaintive without its usual covering of things. The things that were neatly stacked here and there, instead, were all of the healing kind: rolls of bandages, fellis, vials of neatly labeled medicines. In short, it did not look in the least like the same weyr that Raylin had last entered. Nor did it look the way it had when Dinner and Conspiracy had Hatched. Indeed, the transformation was extremely recent. Recent as in about a week previous to T'rid's leaving Selenitas. In that week, he -- along with Kalierre, S'lain, and Z'hin -- had more or less been mauled (Z'hin less so than any of them; S'lain more so than any of them, and T'rid somewhere between Kalierre and Z'hin) by felines. They'd won, though from the wounds they had to show from it, probably nobody would believe it. Once he could limp around, T'rid had demanded to be moved back to his weyr -- he hated the Infirmary -- and had been moved, albeit after many long arguments with the Healers. Which meant that a Healer had confined him to said Weyr with strict orders not to move unnecessarily, which meant a Drudge brought his food, and a Healer came daily to check the wounds for infection.

Then she'd seen the state of his Weyr, and he'd been threatened by death if he dared to trip on something and break his stitches. And a furious Drudge had been summoned to clean said weyr, which left him extremely irritated indeed. Neither had the Healers wanted him to leave to Blossom Hold, arguing that no dragon would Chase if it endangered the life of their Rider. But they didn't know Corinth. And so paranoid was the bronzerider that he had still departed. Corinth had taken a straight flight, and made it as gentle as possible, T'rid leaving instructions to one of the Drudges to feed Dinner, and if she was unable to, to contact Raylin and ask her to do it. She would. She didn't know about the feline-attack, but she would, wouldn't she? -- no, T'rid never thought to tell her, either. First he'd had Corinth threaten to sit on him if he dared leave the weyr against Healer orders, and then he'd left. He'd tell her the next time she dropped by for whatever reason, and if that didn't happen in half a Turn (which he doubted), well, he was in no hurry.

The only thing that was vaguely reminiscient of the weyr that had become familiar to the bronzerider was the chicken. The hen, to be precise, a lovely red hen that was currently out of sight. Dinner was busy sulking that her pet had left her (and yes: her pet. He was hers), and had therefore secreted herself into the bronzerider's wardrobe, fluffing her feathers out around her and resembling little more than a little red gleaming ball with a beak as she snuggled into the clothes that had been stuffed into the wardrobe. At the sound of a voice, however, in her weyr, Dinner's feathers fluffed even more and a low cluck escaped her. Curiosity demanded she nudge the door open slightly to see the invader -- a planned attack! Yes! The enemy would have no chance! -- before her wings raised slightly and her yellow talons were carefully loosened from the fabric.

She didn't know this person! (Actually, she did, but she'd already forgotten all about Raylin.) It wasn't the Drudge she was used to, who put down food and fled after the first encounter with Dinner (in which she'd been scolding T'rid for something and before the bronzerider could so much as open his mouth, Dinner had lit into her. Literally so), and she'd come all the way in! Not good, not good. Dinner jumped down from the wardrobe, squawking loudly to make sure Raylin saw her, and flared her wings out as wide as they would go, stepping quickly across the floor of the Weyr towards her. So empty. Not her Weyr, it wasn't. She'd have to make it nice and messy again a little later, when she had time. After she'd eaten, maybe. Did she have food, this girl? Dinner squinted at her, tilting her head and studying Raylin intently, bright beady eyes darting from one point to the other: Face. Basket. Feet. Face. Basket. Face. Feet.

Finally, she settled for another loud squawk, demanding an introduction. Who was she and how did she know her name?!

[Rei]

Raylin paused for a second completely floored. “Did I get the wrong weyr?” She queried out loud. But no here came Dinner, complete with wings spread and a loud squawk. The green weyrling couldn’t contain the laugh that threatened to spill out and she almost doubled over. “Darling you have gotten so big.” The comment came out between chuckles. What’s so funny Raymine? Dinner love you should see her. She came running at me like a broody hen with chicks. What is a broody hen? I’ll explain later love it’s not really important.

The gaze on the basket did not go unnoticed. “Poor thing are you hungry? I have some food for you. You were so little the last time I saw you. Now look you’ve gone and grown up right under my nose. Guess I have been so busy I missed it. I wonder if you have started laying eggs yet.” As she spoke the dark haired girl pulled a dish out of the basket and placed it on the ground. “Hungry Dinner?”

Raylin unwrapped what the drudges had provided and placed it carefully in the dish. “Go on. I bet your Mommy will be home very soon. If Millieth gets any brighter Rukbat is going to have some competition.” I wish they would get home. I miss them. I know love I do to. Do you think Stupid will remember me? I am sure he will darling. The green weyrling watched the chicken with amused interest. A chicken as a pet. T’rid was an odd ball wasn’t he? After all most chickens were used as a source of food, not a household pet.

[Avu]

Dinner puffed up indignantly at the sound of laughter. What?! What was so funny to the intruder? The hen clucked morosely to herself, eyes flashing in annoyance. What was up with these people? Had they never had a chicken fly into a fit on them? She would. Dinner really, honestly would -- which was, honestly, the only reason T'rid kept her alive as long as he did, though Dinner didn't know it. To the hen, the man was not her mother, but her chick. He needed protecting, he did, and he didn't...seem to grow up. So, constant protector and mother Dinner would be. Her head tilted to one side, appraising Raylin intently, one wing still mid-flail. Closing the wing after a pause, and letting her feathers lie flat against her again, the hen stepped closer, saffron-yellow talons clicking against the stone floor. Stupid Healer. Obviously this was why her chick left so much stuff all over the place -- because this ground was so sharding uncomfortable, it was. And cold -- Dinner would know. Why else would she be sleeping among her chick's stuff, after all? One step, two step. The hen was wary, but not as aggressive as she usually was. That was only for when T'rid was there.

The girl was talking. The hen uttered a low sound, a twist between a croon and a cluck -- something she'd picked up from Corinth. Often had the bronze crooned, and in trying to mimic him, the sound, low, wary, extended -- was what had emerged. Dinner was not unintelligent as far as chickens went -- admittedly not very far -- but that still didn't mean she understood a word of what Raylin was saying. All she understood was her name, which she would (typically; unless she was mid-attack, which case very little could stop her) come when called for. And Raylin...wasn't saying Dinner a lot, which meant that Dinner was relying on her tone of voice to figure out what, exactly, Raylin was about. Lots of laughter, still. Did she not take Dinner seriously? The hen's feathers lifted again, and another low croon emerged from the hen's beak as she clicked thoughtfully at Raylin. Did the girl speak chicken? No? A pity, or Dinner would have told her what's what. She would have been utterly horrified if she could understand the girl. Lay eggs indeed! She had an eggchick, didn't the girl know that? Hmmmmff.

Fortunately for Raylin, it is doubtful that Dinner would ever be able to understand her.

As Raylin emptied out her package into a small dish, Dinner clucked curiously, edging forwards. The hen's suppers were never the same two days in a row, because she fed purely on leftovers. Whatever the Weyr ate, Dinner ate, though -- notably -- T'rid did refuse to let her eat meat plain. Typically, he'd pick those out and feed them to Mir, Conspiracy, or Stupid. Chickens were simply not supposed to eat meat. That didn't stop Dinner from trying, though -- and failing, for all three of the draconics were much lighter on their feet than she was. As it was, T'rid had positively demanded that no meat be fed to the hen, and therefore it was to a dinner of everything but the meat that Dinner sat down to, ruffling her feathers and preening slightly before she began to peck at the tidbits.

Once finished, the hen glanced around...and promptly shot for the door. It had not quite swung closed, and during the course of her dinner, soundless on oiled hinges, it had...swung open again. Dinner was surprisingly quick -- she had a mission, did the chicken: Her chick was not here. Clearly she had to find him!

[Rei]

The chickens frustration was not noticed by Raylin who had begun to walk slowly about the bronze rider’s weyr. The jars of medicines and ointments caught her attention and she drew her finger along a label. Had T’rid gotten sick? There was rumor about him and a few others being mauled by felines. Perhaps it was true. A cold feeling sat in the pit of her stomach. Had he been hurt badly? Surely if he was injured to badly Corinth would not have let him go away for Millieth’s flight.

Raylin felt horrible. If he had been hurt she should have been there for him. That was what friends did. Shard it all. Ebolath crooned worriedly. Mine? Do you think he will be mad that we did not come to see him. I hope not. At least we can say we took care of Dinner while he was away. As she turned towards the chicken her eyes widened.

The green weyrling had turned around just in time to see Dinner sprint from the dish to the door. “Dinner!” The chicken’s name was cried out in a exasperated fashion. “Get back here!” Raylin ran after the chicken, but the feathered creature was much faster and she could glide where Raylin could not. By the time the green weyrling had navigated the stairs Dinner was far ahead and disappearing into the undergrowth of the river bank. “Ebo stop her!”

The green lifted her head and looked about wildly just getting a glimpse of red feathers. Dinner where are you going? Ebolath queried as she trotted towards the river reeds. Unfortunately the green slowed her pace a bit. After all she did not wish to crush the hen, and so she lost sight of her. Giving a concerned croon she turned towards her bonded. She got away.

Raylin pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Great we lost the Wyerleader’s pet chicken.” The comment might have been amusing in any other situation but to Raylin it was far from amusing, in any light. “I suppose we should look for her.” Ebolath rumbled in agreement and nudged her rider. Could the blue brother help us? “Good idea.”

It a few moments Vega had popped out from between and Raylin, Ebolath, and the pale blue had begun their search for Dinner. “Seriously how far could she have gotten?” Raylin queried to her mind mates as Vega winged in and out of the thick underbrush.

[Avu]

Had Dinner ever been outside before? Only rarely. The farthest she'd gone, really, was Corinth's weyrledge, where, much to the bronze's amused dismay, she was excessively fond of perching. Apparently it...made her feel big, or something? At least she didn't use the stone 'ledge for a bathroom. The very first place T'rid had put her upon arriving at his weyr that first time was his bathroom, after draining the bath to make sure the chick wouldn't drown, just to make sure he didn't get chicken excrement all over his weyr floor, and then, after bribing a Drudge to get him one, she'd been taught how to...use a litterbox, as it were. Normally, any sane chicken who had so rarely been outside would have stopped, to examine the place. But not Dinner. She was determined. Hers had not gone out this way; he'd mounted Corinth with Stupid and gone off between with Conspiracy and Mir following -- but surely it worked more or less the same way. Maybe if she jumped off the edge of the cliff and beat her wings really hard like Corinth and the firelizards did, she could go between, too...?

As she spotted Ebolath headed towards her, the hen positively shrieked at the green, puffing up indignantly. This was not the dragon she was looking for. Hers was big and shiny and orangy-bronze and -- and he was big. Speeding away, Dinner rounded a bush, feathers flattening after another annoyed ruffle. Sliding into another bush, the hen crouched down, peering around. Hmmm, now what? She could see a blue flittery thing diving in and out of the bushes, and instinctively flattened herself among the old leaves, all but vanishing, her rusty red feathers providing camoflauge of sorts. Again, it was not her flittery blue thing. It was just a flittery blue thing, and seeing it only made her more anxious to find her eggchick and his bronze thing and blue flittery and brown flittery. She wanted them back. Yes, even the brown frilling thing that scolded her in human words that she didn't understand, because he was a link to her person eggchick and she wanted him, specifically.

However, once her bush was about to be plagued by the flittery, Dinner took a chance. The hen squawked loudly at Vega, snapping defiance at the blue and lunging out of the bush --

-- only to collide with a person. Saffron talons snagged the fabric of his shirt, and her wings beat in alarm at the air as her momentum caught whoever-it-was off guard and sent the both of them flailing backwards. "ShardingFaranthscorchitallOQUITH." A green muzzle -- green! Green?! Argh! Where was bronze and shiny? -- steadied the young man, who hesitantly reached out, snaring the chicken in his grasp -- and promptly released her with a sharp yelp as a white ball of fur shot out from under Oquith and took a leap for Dinner, who panicked, writhing until Tr'esn released her and she flopped onto the ground, fluffing her feathers and uttering a hiss at Moth, who mrowled playfully as Tr'esn caught the kitten. Instantly limp went Moth, purring a low, grating, pleased sound. She liked attention, she did. But it was not on her for very long, for Oquith, crooning in confusion, swept out one wing, neatly creating a shimmering green wall between Dinner and freedom.

It seems that little Moths and chickens wander around a lot, the green observed, bemusedly appraising Dinner as the chicken sat, clucking to herself and pecking defiantly at the membrane of Oquith's wing. Did she run away from the Main Hall? Oh...Tr'esnMine, she is cute. Maybe we can keep her too. I don't want to leave her all alone...or we could give her to 'ruthbrother? She's shiny when the sun glints off of her. Because, yup. Behruth definitely needed a pet chicken to go with the firelizard and sky shiny that he already had. "I...uh...I guess someone lost her?" ...Tr'esnMinelove, who has a pet chicken? We could be special. Or 'ruthbrother could be special. Only pet chicken in Selenitas Weyr...? Tr'esn squinted at the kitten, sucking on the cut on his palm from when the hen's talons had sliced open his hand. He had to admit the green had a point. Because, honestly...who had a chicken for a pet...?

[Rei]

The lunge from the chicken elicited startled squeak from Vega and he shot upward to dodge her attack. Winging around Tr’esn, Oquith, and the now contained Dinner, he chirped and blinked between. A flash of cold heralded his arrival back at his bonded's side and he slammed his small body into Raylin's chest, clinging to the front of her shirt. Frantically he pressed images into her mind. Dinner, the oh so big green, and the boy’s face. Could they please just go home now?

Raylin stroked her tiny blue and brought him back to her shoulder where he proceeded to hide behind her hair. “Ebolath. This way love. Vega found her. She’s down the river a bit.” The girl recognized that spot in the river due to the partially submerged tree that stuck half in half out of the water due to the flooding. The green gave a croon and bounded after her bonded. Brother Vega you need not be frightened. We are only going to fetch Dinner.

As the green pair made their way through the underbrush Raylin called out so as not to startle Tr’esn. “Tr’esn? It’s Raylin and Ebolath. Tell Oquith not to let the chicken go. She belongs to the Weyrleader.” Hopefully that statement would waylay his fears a bit. To be honest she hadn’t talked to the boy since that day on the river. She had only seen Tr’esn and his growing dragon in passing throughout weyrlinghood. That is until just recently, as Tidal had now moved out into proper weyrs.

As Ebolath caught sight of the other green she crooned happily. Hello. I am Ebolath. Thank you for stopping Dinner. Raymine was feeding her and she got away. The smaller green shifted from foot to foot before speaking again. Mine remembers yours somehow. Some slight confusion could be noticed in her tone. Hers had met Oquith’s mine before she had hatched? Ebolath was not aware there had been a before her. The concept was too strange for the green to hold for long however and soon her attention fell to Tr’esn. This is yours?

Raylin pushed her hair back and smiled faintly at Tr’esn. “Sorry if I startled you.” Truly she hadn’t meant to if she had. Her attention fell to the other green beside the boy. “Wow Oquith has gotten so big! I bet she doesn’t remember me at all.” Dinner was momentarily forgotten as Raylin smiled at Oquith. “You were just a tiny thing the first time I met you.”

[Avu]

Voice. Twitch.

Tr'esn jumped, and hissed quietly in annoyance as Moth squirmed against his chest, one foreleg wriggling free to bat playfully at Dinner, who clicked her beak at the feline defiantly. Bad feline, bad bad...MineTr'esn? It's just a person. Maybe they wouldn't mind keeping the chicken for us, if you don't want it. It...doesn't really like Moth, does it? the green observed, ducking her head under her wing to nudge Dinner curiously. She received a peck on the nose, for utterly fearless was Dinner, and withdrew her muzzle, surprised and a little hurt. I...don't think she likes me either. Mine? Tr'esnlove? But the greenrider was utterly fixed on staring at Dinner, blinking dumbly. Raylin. The name, he vaguely recognized. His nose crinkled thoughtfully, the boy raising his hand to run through his hair. A day by the River...Aonith, hadn't it been? Yes. And a Candidate, then...a Candidate who had Impressed, at the last Hatching? Ebolath. That must be her. A green, was Ebolath, if he remembered correctly.

But...uh, what? The Weyrleader had a pet chicken? Minelove...mightn't we get a pet chicken too? Moth likes them, Oquith suggested tentatively, and dropped her head as Tr'esn shot her a mock fierce glare. I said I'd get you a firelizard, didn't I? he shot at the small green, and aloud, he answered, hesitantly, unsure of where to direct his words, "Umm, yeah...she's got her." He leaned against his green's foreleg, Oquith wrapping her free wing loosely around Hers, protectively. Her croon was gentle. What was Hers nervous about? He was always nervous around new people, he was, and as malleable as wet clay when people ordered him to do things. Probably a side effect of being a Drudge all those years, but Oquith still didn't understand it. He wasn't a Drudge any longer, was he? He was a Rider, and he shouldn't act like what he wasn't. It wasn't right. But she knew better than to directly ask, and so questioned of the boy, nudging at Dinner again and earning a loud, indignant squawk from the hen, What does that mean? Is it like a firelizard with wherry feathers?

"Uh...Iunno, Qui..."

Oquith was distracted as Ebolath approached, though, and the young green received a quiet croon. Shy was Oquith, rarely starting conversations among dragons except for, perhaps, a polite greeting to her clutchsiblings (other than Wymeth and Qualuth; she positively adored them and could talk for hours with either of them), and this was no exception. As the green introduced herself, though, Oquith's soprano tones answered the green's childish ones. Hello, Ebolath; my name's Oquith, and it's lovely to meet you. Pulling Dinner closer (cue yet another shriek of indignation from said chicken), the small green tucked her head over her wing to nudge Ebolath lightly. Physical affection mattered a great deal to Oquith, who rarely passed up a chance to cuddle up to her friends, or even Behruth. He was nice, too, and special, but in a different way from her other two siblings. Her name is Dinner? Oh...that's rather a mean name, I think... She contemplated the feathery red hen thoughtfully, and then shrugged it off. The hen wasn't hers to name, after all. Does she? the green added, as confused as Ebolath. Oh...maybe. Mine remembers more than I do. And yes, yes -- this is Tr'esnMine. Her wing curved lovingly around the boy, as she flicked her tail towards Raylin. She is Yours? She's very pretty, Yours is.

The girl's faint smile was answered by one that was even less noticeable than her own as Tr'esn tilted his head at her, awkwardly considering her. Familiar. Yes, she was familiar, but the memory wasn't close. It was faint, distant, barely there in his mind. Such a long time ago, that his Oquith had been such a sweet, awkward, lovely little hatchling. In her place, now? Still was the green caring, adoring, sweet, but the childish awkwardness had been replaced by grace, and sometimes he missed seeing the green trip after him, crooning, undeterred by the stumbling pace. "It's okay," he replied softly, and then a slightly more noticeable smile flicked across his face at the mention of Oquith. Big? Not at all. She was positively tiny for a green, the smallest he'd ever seen. It was this, more than anything, that had prevented the pair from taking unsupervised flights before they were technically able to, for although neither wanted to be caught, the desire to fly had been stronger. "Um, sorry...I don't think so. Say hi, Qui?" The green's gaze slid from Ebolath to Raylin, and she crooned musically at the girl. Speaking to other people had never been a problem for Oquith, for she did it to Vashti and K'iel on a regular basis, even calling them by their names, and so too did Wymeth and Qualuth address Hers. Hello, Ebolath's -- I -- I'm very sorry, I don't remember...was I? I'm small still, compared to the other greens...

Whereupon Dinner gave a very petulant and loud squawk. What was going ON?!