permission to destroy [open//october chores]

[Avu]

That, Ahth, is /my/ slave. I will thank you to return him to me. The gold’s smooth tones masked her irritation as her head lifted, eyes narrowing to focus directly on the irritating blue occupying her Infirmary space. Her lip curled slightly in an expression of her dislike, but otherwise she looked perfectly at rest – for the moment. She was sprawled flat on her belly in the middle of the dragon half of the Infirmary, mostly empty for the time, staring down a hatchling so much smaller than she it was almost ridiculous that she considered him a threat. And (as far as Jingth was concerned) she didn’t. It was just that he was practically making Mimic do cartwheels for him on command and she resented that; the brown Salamandyr was acting quite the fool (even if he didn’t know it) and only she could make a fool of her little slave. That blue was not allowed to, and yet the Salamandyr seemed quite happy to do whatever Ahth asked him to do. Curse him. Even Sylph’s suggestions were taken eagerly; the green was curled right in between Ahth’s forelegs, the blue lying in a position almost identical to that associated with the Terran sphinx, eyeing Mimic with deep amusement.

Surely you can share, Ahth replied, just as politely, before he flipped his tail neatly around his haunches and crooned at Mimic. I see no problem. He is certainly /willing/ to do as I ask, is he not? I am not /demanding/ he do anything. Am I, little brown? The last four words were directed at Mimic, who scurried forward to chirp happily at the blue before he turned to breeze back to Jingth and lick the gold square on the nose reassuringly.

Not mad, not mad, he assured her. Love you goldthing, love. Bluething nice, greenling nice. Not mad goldthing love~

Jingth barely repressed the twitch before she eyed Ahth again. Did the Salamandyr have no idea when he was becoming a form of entertainment? So upsetting. So upsetting. Why was Ahth even there? His wasn’t; the gold had asked Hers just to be sure. But Jingth hadn’t answered Meira’s inquiry as to why she cared, because she didn’t want to bother LoveHers at the moment. Didn’t Ahth have anything better to do than be a nuisance? No, she had no idea that Ahth had always disliked her and was just very, very good at hiding it, that this was his form of revenge – using the brown Salamandyr. Not mad, she grumbled back at Mimic, before stretching out further and staring at Ahth determinedly. Her temper was fraying, worsened by Mimic’s obliviousness, but she wouldn’t loose her temper completely; she was sure that was what Ahth wanted. So very upsetting. I do not share well, brothermine, the gold added, as pleasantly as she could manage, to the blue. I would appreciate it /so/ very much if you would leave my slave alone.

Oh, but Jingthsistermine, Ahth replied, just as pleasantly, Sharing /is/ nice, is it not? The little spy likes your slave very much, and I think he is quite fond of her as well. Is that not so, my little friends?

Much I, Sylph offered, the note of malice in the green’s tone unmistakable – to all but Mimic, who positively bounced.
Love love, pretty love!

MyLove, may I /destroy/ Ahth? Jingth inquired as sweetly as she could of Meira, privately, even though outwardly she crooned pleasantly at the irritating creature.

Meira blinked twice, freezing on the spot, before she turned slowly to stare in confusion in Jingth’s general direction, even though she couldn’t actually see the gold from where she was; there was a wall blocking her way. “Destroy – why?” she echoed softly, aloud, before she winced and set down the carefully balanced stack she’d been trying to maneuver from Point A (closet number one) to Point B (cabinet number one) onto a nearby counter, scooting it inwards towards the wall with one hand. Riaren was conspicuous by his absence; Meira had dropped him off with R’wign because, as she’d discovered last time, trying to do stuff with only one free arm did not generally work so well, even if patients didn’t seem to mind her slowness too much. “Do I need to come over there…?” The words were aloud, but Meira honestly didn’t notice, blinking in confusion. Destroy Ahth – who was Ahth again…?

You need not know him, Jingth replied smoothly. He is the second most irritating creature on Pern and I would like permission to destroy him. He is making a spectacle out of the little slave. I do not want /my/ miniature slave to be made fun of, you see.

“Don’t destroy him!”

[Requiem]

Xerxes left the last of the rooms, pausing to straighten himself in the nearest reflective surface. Wrinkles were such a bother, but there was almost no avoiding them right now, not with so little space for his things in the barracks. (True, he hadn't had much more outside them, but he didn't feel comfortable encroaching on anyone else's space enough to spread his clothing out overnight. And he thought it best not to separate himself from the other candidates by remaining with his family, as some other weyrbred candidates chose to do.) He smoothed some of the crazier strands of hair into a semblance of order, clearing away with one finger a few droplets of the broth that went into the stew he'd been delivering to all the patients the healers felt could handle something a little heartier.

Pausing at the cry from the other room, his finger still at the corner of his mouth, he turned. Destroy? That certainly didn't sound good. He stepped lightly down the hall, peering around the doorframe. The drudge - yes, he still considered himself such, given if he didn't Impress he'd just go back to doing what he had been all his life - glanced around the room, perplexed. There was no one there but one of the healers he'd seen off and on in here. The one who'd been pregnant and still came around with the infant every once in awhile. Wasn't the father one of the other healers? He couldn't remember. Xerxes didn't exactly spend the majority of his time in the infirmary, though he was there often enough to be at least a vaguely familiar face.

"Are you okay?" he asked the healer quietly, venturing forward into the room. He brushed the hair from his eyes, gaze drifting curiously. Had he been in this room before? But then he remembered that she had sounded rather upset just a moment ago. "Can I...help you with something?" Now he felt a little silly. There was nothing in here. "Ummm I thought you said someone was being destroyed, but..." A self-conscious chuckle followed. "Clearly not the case."

Had he remembered she was the goldweyrling, it might have made more sense, but Xerxes actually paid little attention to the movers and shakers of the Weyr. His place was the same no matter who was in charge and, anyway, he didn't feel a need to step on eggshells just because someone was a touch luckier than him. If they took offense...well, that was unfortunate, but not really his fault.

[Avu]

Jingth’s frustrated mental hiss was not outwardly displayed; the irritation the gold felt hit Meira hard and the Healer winced, both hands rising to rub her temples. It was rare that Jingth was irritated so, and it took a second to comprehend exactly what had the gold so upset. Little slave…Mimic – what? Meira blinked again before she brushed hesitantly against the hatchling’s mind, trying to reassure her now that she’d remembered how to talk to Jingth silently. But the gold’s frustration was enough to send her reeling mentally, and she bit her lip distractedly, one hand twisting a piece of her hair between her fingers and tugging. Look – look, lovely, can’t you just make this Ahth go away? Or send Mimic to me – would it help if I called Mimic back to me? Jingth, don’t hurt him!

Before the gold could answer, though, a foreign voice sounded and Meira spun around, startled, to face Xerxes; both palms flew down to press against the edge of the counter and she blinked, blatant surprise crossing her face – likely quite comically. For a moment she wasn’t quite sure what to answer until she realized that she had been speaking out loud; guilt made her avert her gaze. She hadn’t meant to make anyone think that there was any actual danger…to the Infirmary, at least. Ahth, on the other hand…apparently the blue’s polite, sly comments were agitating Jingth to no end, even if the gold was replying with equal social correctness. How strange. A slight flush came to her cheeks before she shook her head in reply to the…person she’d never spoken to before. Well. First time for everything, wasn’t there? She’d seen him before, but his name and rank completely escaped her.

“Not being destroyed here,” she agreed, wrinkling her nose apologetically. “Sorry. I didn’t – mean to talk aloud…” Meira swallowed before she added, in further explanation, “It’s Jingth – she’s upset; I don’t – I’m not sure why…” Well, other than that it was Ahth upsetting her and it had something to do with Mimic. Past that, she hadn’t the slightest idea. “I just – yeah. I’m sorry. I should probably keep her from…” ‘destroying’ Ahth. She didn’t think the gold actually would; it would be quite out of character for her, but she was getting more and more irritated; she could feel that quite clearly and her own nerves were on end because of it. Mimic’s obliviousness to the gold’s upset and to whatever the blue was doing to upset her so was reassuring, though; the brown was generally quite naïve, but if it was blatantly offensive surely the Salamandyr would have picked it up…?

Call him back, then, Jingth snapped, her fury only palpable to Hers. She was trying so, so very hard to keep it from showing to that irritating, irritating creature who regarded her pleasantly with eyes of green. Her own eyes were a rather flat shade of dark blue, her words borderline impolite, and yet not quite offensive yet. If the slave is gone, /he/ will have no reason to stay. He was trying to upset her, she knew that. But she refused to let him succeed…or at least, know he succeeded, because he already had.

Can’t you move? Meira inquired desperately, before she crinkled her nose and added to Mimic appealingly, Mimic – won’t you come to me, please? There was no explanation offered, because Mimic never needed any. There were no words, only a wave of acceptance, and Jingth’s irritation faded into something decidedly more manageable; her eyes turned a slightly brighter shade of blue before she informed Hers smugly, The slave went. Ahth is leaving.

“Yeah. No one’s being destroyed; there was just – someone bothering Jingth…I’m not really sure what was happening…?” She wasn’t quite sure why it came out sounding as a question – or why it sounded decidedly apologetic, but it did. Oops?

[Requiem]

Oh, he'd startled her. Xerxes smiled awkwardly. Normally he would have run off to get her food or something, but all the stew had been handed out, so he was at something of a loss. Food always made people feel better. Good, warm food, anyway. Or such was his experience. He slipped closer to her, flashing a friendly smile to try to make her feel a little more comfortable. Definitely seemed flustered..."Jingth?" Dragon. Gold. Ohhhh, Meira, Right, right. He didn't remember her as well as Savitri because he'd had more contact with Savitri. "Oh, I'm sorry, Weyrwoman. I don't always recognize people as I should." A brief, apologetic smile, but there was hardly anything nervous about it. "Someone bothering her enough that she wanted to destroy them? Must be quite something," he commented mildly. Meira didn't seem altogether upset about it anymore, so he figured the problem was solved. Made sense, right?

"I can go see if you'd like...though can't you just ask her?" The candidate was Selenitas bred, very comfortable amongst dragonriders and dragons alike, and even though he'd never bonded to anything, not even a firelizard, he knew they did communicate with one another. He couldn't help himself, really. Perhaps it was his upbringing, or maybe he was mildly obsessive compulsive, but he began rearranging her stack into something more easily carried. Xerxes had all too much experience with how to balance things, after all. He eyed them for a moment, straightening the collar of his shirt subconsciously. They went where again? Oh, right.

Gathering up the supplies in his arms, he opened the door to the cabinet with an elbow and slid them in, beginning to set things out as he remembered them being organized the last time he'd looked in the cabinet. "I'm going to need to ask a favor of you, actually," he commented as he finished setting the things properly. "I've been in the infirmary before, of course, but only during the plague and to bring food or run small errands. I'm not exactly sure what chores you need done around here. Anything I can help you with?" He glanced over his shoulder at her, peering past the wild hair that refused to remain tamed. (Xerxes actually liked it that way, though, or at least better than he liked slicking it back with oil.)

[Avu]

…apology? Meira was preoccupied enough that it took a second before she realized the reason for the apology, and when it did dawn upon her, she blinked, fighting down the slight flush that came to her cheeks; she wasn’t used to being a goldrider, wasn’t used to people knowing her name, certainly wasn’t used to people apologizing for not recognizing her. Even Jingth’s feeling of smugness – both from her ‘victory’ and over the fact that the boy had recognized her name and Hers – did not entirely drown out that small discomfort; Meira wasn’t quite sure she was happy with her new position. She’d helped lead Night Watch before, but it was different, a smaller community, tighter. “You don’t have to call me that.” The protest was quiet, but it still was a protest before she shook her head slightly at the offer. “It’s okay…she keeps telling me I don’t need to know, but it had something to do with my Salamandyr…?” Who was currently on his way over here, she hoped.

The weyrlingrider stepped sideways to allow Xerxes access to the supplies, watching with a slight bemusement as he restacked everything and proceeded to put it away. “Thanks…” The word was soft, Meira moving forward to glance over the cabinet to make sure things were where they ought to be. Once she’d ascertained that they were, she stepped backwards again; she couldn’t leave until Mimic had found her or else she risked throwing the Salamandyr for a loop. The question made her tilt her head curiously before she bit her lip, considering. “Um…” Just chores, then…no actual Healing…? “I don’t – I doubt you’d be interested in taking tallies or copying Healing records, would you…? You could always help with the smaller injuries that come in. Just scrapes and small cuts, stuff like that, if you’re interested?” They had quite a few Healers, but more was always nice, no? “Or – well, I don’t know, is there anything you like to do that could fall under chores…? If that’s possible?”

It was that moment that Mimic bounced through the door, crooning audibly to His and scurrying across the floor to faceplant elegantly right in front of her feet before resiliently scrambling right back up again and curling up on her foot with a pleased coo before he directed his attention to Xerxes. Hi, the Salamandyr announced pleasantly. Hi. Am Mimic. Who you please hi?

Leaning down to scoop the Salamandyr up, Meira blinked before she half-smiled apologetically. “Um, yeah…this is Mimic, and he’s just reminded me – I don’t think I know your name…?” Which made her feel slightly guilty in itself; he’d recognized her by her dragon’s name, hadn’t he? She was normally aware of the names of the Healers, but she didn’t quite sure if the currently nameless boy was even interested in becoming a Healer. From his words, she was betting he wasn’t a Healer. Yet, anyway. The brown Salamandyr cooed pleasantly in her hands before he curled his tail affectionately around one finger, adding solemnly to Xerxes, Fixer? Because fixers were the best, no?

[Requiem]

She wasn't quite what one would expect out of a goldrider, was she? Closer to Kaegan than Shmee, Savitri or Paryal. Or Sera. Xerxes flashed her a gentle smile, his words soft. "No? It's what you are. If you want me to call you Meira, though, I don't mind." He brushed the lint from his shirt absently, running a finger along the lip of the top shelf of the cabinet to clear away a few specks of dust before closing it softly. Turning, he leaned back against the shelf, cocking his head to one side in open curiosity as he watched her shy mannerisms.

"Mm. I wouldn't mind, no, but I can't read a word so I'm afraid it would be rather pointless." Actually, one of the archivists had volunteered to teach him, and he was beginning to learn...slowly. It would take some time as like as not. He definitely didn't know enough to be of much help tallying or copying anything though. "I know how to clean," he stated, with a touch of amusement. "Clean, change bedding, take patients outside who need the air, entertain anyone feeling a little down. Small cuts and scrapes are no problem, either, though I don't know why anyone would come here for something that small." That was what mothers and weyrmates were for, right? "Cut up herbs. Just tell me what you need. I'm not adverse to chores."

Hardly, chores were his life. Had been his life. He actually felt like he was slacking these days, as a candidate. All that free time. Most of it he spent baking, though. Or cooking. Or helping with the most recent contruction projects. Cleaning he could do, too, but he preferred to make things. One of his quirks.

Xerxes had noticed the salamandyr's bumbling entrance, yes, but he generally didn't pay much attention to the small creatures apart from not squishing them. They tended to be obnoxious and bothersome as a general rule. Thus he was surprised when the creature addressed him so pleasantly and politely. Glancing down, he smiled at the little mandyr baby. "He's quite friendly, isn't he? Xerxes." He directed his attention to the small brown. "I'm Xerxes. But I'm afraid I'm not a fixer. I make food and try to make people happy...leave the fixing to the people who are better at it, like your Meira there."

[Avu]

The Candidate’s words were true enough, though Meira still didn’t want to be called Weyrwoman, because she didn’t really feel like she was, yet. For the moment, she was still a weyrlingrider; Jingth ranked no higher than the smallest green until she was full-grown, and it didn’t feel right to get the title that she would have reserved for Kaegan and Savitri – not that she usually even called Savitri ‘Weyrwoman’. But that was beside the point. To Xerxes she only nodded, murmuring a quiet thank you even as Jingth’s mind brushed questioningly against hers. The gold couldn’t see what was so upsetting about being called Weyrwoman. Weyrwoman was good – she would be Weyrwoman, someday, would she not? The best, because she was better than Millieth and Hepaticath both. Gently shushing the gold, Meira glanced at Xerxes shyly before he spoke again.

She didn’t interrupt him, chewing on her lower lip thoughtfully. Chores in the Infirmary. Well – there were a lot, in all honesty, and Meira wasn’t really sure which, if any, took precedence over the others. Taking care of patients, but that wasn’t something that was always needed. Meira also had the problem that she didn’t want to assign any chore that Xerxes might be unhappy with, even if he was basically…leaving it entirely up to her. Hmm. One hand rose to curl a strand of hair around her forefinger thoughtfully, Mimic happily clinging to her other hand, but she didn’t answer immediately. Easier to talk about Mimic, who she absolutely adored, it was. The brown Salamandyr’s delight at being spoken to was practically palpable; he literally bounced in her hand before scurrying to the end of her finger, carefully wrapping his tail around the base so as not to be unbalanced; he trusted His not to drop him, see?

“Very,” was the goldrider’s amused comment, before Mimic proclaimed happily, Xerxes! Nice humanthing Xerxes. The explanation that he was not a Healer made the Salamandyr deflate slightly, but only momentarily; Mimic was ridiculously resilient, Meira noted. Happy fixing, he instructed Xerxes pleasantly. Fix sad cry. Is fixer like Raefixer? Because everyone who made people happy was a mindhealer, of course. Of course. Love Fixermine, is hurtfixer, he added. It made him so very happy to meet new people, it did, especially when they fixed sad people and hungry people. So nice of him! He crooned loudly at Xerxes; chances were he would have fawned over the boy had he been able to reach him, but fortunately for Xerxes, he couldn’t because that would require letting go of His and he was not at all ready to do that, nope.

“I’m not exactly sure what’s needed to be done right now,” Meira added as Mimic fell silent, stroking the Salamandyr’s back with one finger; he arched into her touch happily. “The patients are the most important, I mean, so…d’you want to go around the rooms and see if any of them need anything? I probably should go too…and if not, there’s always boiling numbweed or something…” Which was unpleasant on the best of days, but even worse when it was so hot: So much fun, wasn’t it? “Or something less unpleasant.” A shrug of her shoulders before Meira reached out to brush against Jingth’s mind with a question: You going to be okay now, love?

Perfectly. It’s /very/ warm here. Bring the child – because of course Xerxes was younger than she – by later if you can, yes? I would very much like a new slave…

[Requiem]

"Rae?" He didn't know who Rae was. Happyfixer, though...he liked that description, even if he wasn't sure he precisely fit it. "Yes, I suppose I'm a happyfixer." He glanced up at Meira. "She's a very good hurtfixer, your Meira. Makes people feel better." He reached and stroked the mandyr lightly with one finger. "You need to take good care of your hurtfixer, so she can fix many, many people." Xerxes had always assumed salamandyrs were all just little pains, but now he was beginning to wonder if that was just a broad generalization. He wouldn't mind having something like Mimic. The brown seemed very attached to His.

He frowned slightly at Meira, his nose wrinkling slightly. The expression was distinctly young and didn't come even close to scary, but then, he wasn't trying to be. "Still asking me what I want to do?" he questioned gently, the amusment behind the words clear for all its quietness. "I asked because you have to have a better idea of what needs to be done around here than I do." He didn't mind being bossed around in the slightest, not when the people doing the bossing were better qualified to make the decisions. (Not at all, really, but in this case that was the truth of the matter.)

"You are a weyrwoman...or you will be. Not everyone's comfortable with their place, but we all have to accept our roles and perform those to the best of our abilities. That means letting people choose when they have a better idea of what needs to be done - giving a runner his head, if you will - and directing them when you're the one who is in a better position to make a decision." He smiled then, the boyish grin that he flashed so frequently. "Lucky for you, I'm good with hints. Let's go check in on the patients, hurtfixer."

He caught Meira by the wrist, tugging her lightly down the hall after him and only releasing her when he was sure that she would continue to follow. Xerxes adjusted his belt compulsively, aligning the edge of the buckle to make sure the gig line was straight. "How is your son doing? Every time I see the little guy he's getting bigger...and he's always wearing that big grin."

[Avu]

Raehappyfixer, Mimic elaborated, though in all likelihood that one statement wouldn’t clear up anything at all. It made sense to him, see? Being touched made his eyes whirl faster. See, meeting new people was so nice. The happyfixer was so nice. Everything was so nice, today. Except for the goldthing, but she was okay now. The touch along his back made the brown squirm in his excitement before he crooned loudly and informed Xerxes seriously, Care hurtfixer. Love best~ Because clearly, His was the best hurtfixer, even if she wasn’t at Master or even Journeyman rank. Of course. The Salamandyr almost wanted to bounce onto Xerxes to lick him, but he wasn’t quite sure if he could make the jump and he didn’t want to go splat. It happened occasionally when he was running, but he didn’t like it. It hurt. He would wait and lick Xerxes when he was sure he wouldn’t splat.

Xerxes’ words made Meira bow her head slightly, almost contrite. Everything had changed the moment Jingth had sat on R’wign; she knew it, but she didn’t want to acknowledge it. Jingth wasn’t grown-up yet, after all, and she’d been vaguely hoping that she could just…slowly come to terms with being a goldrider. Best if Jingth didn’t grow up at all, but she wasn’t stupid enough to hope for the impossible. Fortunately, Xerxes didn’t seem to expect her to say anything, for he’d already gone on – and Meira was very grateful for that; she didn’t know what to say. Other than the fact that she’d never actually be even Junior Weyrwoman unless either Savitri or Kaegan died, or their queens stopped Rising, but hopefully neither would happen for a long time. A slightly bemused look flashed over her face as her wrist was caught, and she allowed Xerxes to pull her forward, only vaguely aware of Mimic scurrying down to Xerxes’ hand and hopping onto the Candidate.

The Salamandyr skittered up Xerxes’ arm, carefully, to make sure his claws didn’t prick the Candidate, until he was perched on his shoulder. A low rough croon emerged from his throat before Mimic actually licked Xerxes along his chin before he bounced. Mimic happyfixer much love, he explained happily. There was no ‘like’ in Mimic’s vocabulary when it came to his affections; there was only ‘love’. No ‘hate’, no ‘dislike’. Only ‘love’. Another quick darting of his tongue to the boy’s face, and then his eyes flushed with blues and he leapt to His. Because His would catch him, of course! Fortunately for Mimic, given his dislike of going splat, Meira did catch him, given that Xerxes had released her and she’d the use of both hands, cupping them together for Mimic to land in. The brown bounced up to lick the pad of her thumb happily before curling up in her hands. So happy, he was, see?

The mention of Riaren earned a piping Babylove! from the brown, and there was no denying that the Salamandyr seemed delighted at the mention of the baby, but the quick smile that flashed over his Bonded’s face made it clear the level of adoration she held for Riaren. “Riaren’s doing great,” she responded; it took much self-control not to actively go on and on about the baby – Meira knew that not everyone adored him as much as she did, after all. She half-laughed, and added, “I’d tell you about how smart he is and all, but I actually don’t really know how quickly babies develop, so…” Yeah, fail. She could probably ask Asharra, but she was always, it seemed, absolutely exhausted at the end of the day and it didn’t help that Asharra had night shift. “Turn right, I think there’s a girl with a broken arm in the first room,” she added. “She’s probably asleep, though.”

[Requiem]

Oh, salamandyr lick. Xerxes blinked, his smile one of puzzled amusement. What was he being licked for? He chuckled, running a finger over the baby again in silent acknowledgment of the creature's affection. "I'm already fond of you, too," he told the salamandyr quietly. It was true enough. Mimic definitely wasn't your run of the mill, obnoxious, insulting little pest. He almost made Xerxes want to brave a salamandyr hatching. Almost. Evil little thing, he was, creating that temptation, because no doubt the candidate wouldn't be nearly so lucky as this goldrider was. There were very few nice salamandyrs that had ever been hatched.

The young man turned obediently. He offered a sympathetic wince to the statement of the girl's condition. Broken arms weren't very fun. He knew that one from personal experience, as most boys did - unless they just lacked in the adventurousness that seemed to plague all young boys when they thought they could conquer the world and nothing could touch them. Yes, even sons of drudges. "Is it at least a clean break?" he questioned the healer, out of genuine compassion. Fractures, he knew, were actually worse than a simple break, requiring longer to heal and being more uncomfortable.

He smiled at Meira, adding before she could respond to his question, "His parents are very intelligent. I'm not sure if that's a hereditary trait or not, but I'm sure he will be in one way or another." The comment was gracious, yes, but it had the added benefit of being genuine. He was positive that the child of two healers would be intelligent enough, even if he didn't take up their profession.

The candidate stepped into the room, glancing around. Quiet. The girl probably was...no, he heard a faint whimper. Poor thing. Xerxes strode toward the bed, seating himself on the side of it and smoothing back the child's hair. "How are you doing, beautiful?" he questioned softly. Maybe she was in pain, but most likely the girl was just lonely. She was young enough that being alone in the infirmary was probably frightening.

[Avu]

Did she hear that? Did she?! Mimic bounced on Meira’s shoulder, squeaking in excitement into her ear, much to the goldrider’s amusement. He liked him! He did! He’d just said so! Love you love you, the Salamandyr exclaimed, actively prancing around in his delight. It didn’t occur to him that Xerxes might be kidding or indulging him, either; he was so happy to be liked. He knew that His liked him and so did his eggbrother and that the goldthing had claimed him (and therefore liked him, maybe?) and that the brownthings that Jingth owned and Theirs maybe liked him a little, too, but he’d just said it out loud. To the world! Never mind that the current ‘world’ consisted of himself, Xerxes, and His; never mind that ‘fond of’ wasn’t love…FixerMine hear? Love me, love Mimic~ The words came out with a decidedly musical flute to accompany them before Mimic forced himself to quell his excitement and sat still, turning his head in an attempt to peer into the room ahead of them. Maybe if he distracted himself he wouldn’t bounce off the walls…?

Meira was busy being distracted by Mimic, as it were, when Xerxes asked his question; the weyrlingrider gave her head a quick shake to dismiss Mimic’s burbling, contagious joy at being liked and then tilted her head to one side in order to remember exactly, but before she could formulate an answer, even begin to speak, the Candidate spoke again and Meira smiled, the quick pleased upwards turn of her lips accompanied by a flush of color to her cheeks. She did think of R’wign as intelligent, fancied Riaren was – the baby had already learned that if both she and Jingth were asleep, the best way to get them awake other than outright screeching, something he didn’t do, was to poke Mimic into consciousness. Living, breathing baby alarm. “I’d like to hope so,” she replied honestly, before she added in response to the last question that she hadn’t had a chance to answer, “and yes – it was a clean break,” even though she lacked the specifics on how it had happened.

She followed Xerxes into the room, though Meira stopped a few feet in, allowing the Candidate to talk to the girl alone. Wouldn’t do to crowd her, potentially frighten her, after all. Meira didn’t think she was frightening, but still; the kid seemed pretty much already scared. But maybe Mimic could help…? She hadn’t met anyone who didn’t like Mimic, after all…the mental request of her Salamandyr was not questioned; the brown leapt from her shoulder, spreading both wings as far as he could so he didn’t splat and hurt, before scurrying across the room towards the girl. As soon as the Salamandyr was off, Meira scooted across the room to pick up the remains of an earlier meal, stacking the plate, cup, and silverware into a tray neatly and setting it further back along the counter so it wouldn’t fall; she’d just take it up once the Candidate who was apparently her new patient-check-up companion was ready to go. And her Salamandyr.

Who was currently resting both forepaws against the girl’s leg, crooning anxiously. His eyes were whirling, hoping for attention, as Mimic hopped onto the girl’s leg entirely and edged closer. Hi? Hiiii. Am Mimic, hi~ Love you, please? Hurt need fix? Is fixerhurt mine. The brown crooned again, reaching forward to cautiously lick the hand not encased in a brace. Did she feel better? The happyfixer was here, see see? The happyfixer would make her feel better…Xerxes. Is happyfixer, make happy smile, the brown explained, just in case she didn’t know. She was supposed to smile when the Candidate was there, right?