AHM RUNNIN! {Nov. chores, Open}

[Sheari]

Ah! The notice in the Weyrling Barracks had actually pleased R'men. He had the power to choose his own chores. No more getting something he didn't like. So, it was without much thought that he wrote his name down for Kitchen duty. Absentmindedly he grabbed the pen with his right hand, forgetting it was burned. He dropped it with a stifled hiss, grabbing it gain with his left hand to scrawl his name. It was barely legible but it was legible nonetheless.

Since you are returning to the place with food, could you bring me back something?[/i]

Weith hovered over R'men's shoulder, looking at the parchment as if staring at it long enough could make it make sense to him. All he saw were squiggles. Lots and lots of squiggles, and one particularly squiggly squiggle that was His's. He breathed on it affectionately through his nose. "No, Weith. That food is for the humans, if you want food you can try your luck at the pens or you can wait until I can feed you." The young bronze was not fond of either answer. Why must you do this to me, Mine?[/i] Weith sprawled in the way of R'men, blocking his path. The man huffed. "Fine, you can come along if you want or you can try to charm someone into feeding you. I still, will not feed you from the kitchens because that food is for the humans."

Weith lifted himself out of the way with some reluctance. Then I shall make your journey short.[/i] Weith nudged his head between R'men's legs, making him slide back (a little painfully along the neck ridges) until he rested between Weith's wings. Bounding out of the Barracks, the bronze ran to the kitchens, stopping abruptly at the door. R'men slid off onto shaky legs. Don't ever do that again, Weith.[/b] He thought, unable to form words as he turn to walk in. Weith beamed, if a dragon could, before he curled up next to the door, hoping to charm passersby into feeding him.

[Avu]

The Infirmary is better.
“I’m aware.”
You could do more there. There’s nothing /in/ the kitchens.
“So you keep telling me.”
You could bring the hatchling to the Infirmary with you.
“R’wign has him right now.”
But he’s /yours/.
“And R’wign’s.”
Mostly yours. Anyway, Weith’s signed up for the kitchens /too/. You really want to do chores with /him/?/
“I don’t have to be near him.”
LoveMine –
“Jingth.”
Mimic?

Gold and Rider both blinked, and then turned to look at the Salamandyr that was curled around Meira’s wrist, startled. Mimic chirped quietly, blinking up at His and the goldthing, before he licked Meira’s fingers quietly. He hadn’t meant to interrupt them, he’d just wanted his name to be there too, see? Lick, lick. Lifting her arm to stroke the brown, Meira bit back a giggle before she raised one eyebrow at Jingth, who gave an unhappy huff and coiled herself onto the ground, on the other side of the Main Hall from Weith. Yes, it was deliberate; she couldn’t stand the sight of him. Bad enough that Hers was working in the kitchens; her day needn’t get any worse with the sight of that bronze. Hmmph. Maybe if she was lucky one of her browns would show up, or Kierjaarth. Much plotting to be done with that bronze, mmyes…Kierjaarth was perhaps the only bronze that Jingth had any amount of possessiveness towards, and possessiveness was as close to fondness as it got with the gold for most.

“Thanks, love.” One hand brushed against the gold’s head, which lifted from the ground to nudge at her abdomen gently, before Meira mentally urged Mimic to her hide in her pocket and then turned to enter the Main Hall. The Drudges tended to react badly at the thought of a Salamandyr getting near the Weyr’s dinner (not without reason), but Mimic wouldn’t. Mimic was one of the sweetest Salamandyrs – in Meira’s opinion – that had ever existed; so obedient and adoring, even more so than Jingth and certainly more obviously so. The kitchen-full of Drudges didn’t bat an eye at the door swinging open and then shut, and Meira slid anxiously among them, not quite sure what she was supposed to do. It felt odd to go to the Infirmary for her shift and call it Chores, since she would have gone anyway, but as long as she could remember those had been her chores and this was…new.

The bustle of Drudges every which way made her blink before glancing around for someone even vaguely familiar who might be able to point her in the right direction; her hands rose to curl nervously around themselves. Mimic’s head emerged from her pocket, the brown Salamandyr chirping curiously, before he darted out to her shoulder, leaning forward to lick her chin encouragingly. Nobody could hate His, because His was the best ever. The goldthing agreed, yes?

Patting Mimic nervously, Meira spun on one heel, still not quite sure what she was supposed to be doing. The brown Salamandyr squeaked and then leapt from her shoulder. If His wasn’t sure, he’d fix it! He would. Come Love, will fix. Fixer Mimic! Bounce, skitter, dive; the Salamandyr was quick, his thin body twisting without harm through feet. Meira still blanched visibly, though, and took off after him, much more hindered by the bodies that she had to go through. Murmuring “excuse me’s” and “sorry’s” almost every step, Meira twisted on a corkscrew course around the kitchen, trying to catch up with Mimic without drawing attention to his presence – or letting Jingth know that her ‘slave’ was distressing her (however inadvertently), which prevented a mental outcall; the gold would demand the Salamandyr return to her and Mimic was currently keeping her a little less nervous.

“Mimic – ” she hissed, edging around a large Drudge carrying a saucepan.

The Salamandyr had noticed R’men, however, and, unaware of Jingth’s dislike of Weith, the brown leapt onto his pant leg to chirp amiably up at him. Hi, bronzething’s, hi, he greeted pleasantly. LoveMine help please bronzething’s? Please fix?

[Sheari]

R'men jumped, relatively startled by the weight on his leg and resisted the urge to swat at the creature there. No, he simply twisted his torso to look at the Salamandyr, arms held out, feet apart. "Uhm, hello?!" he said, with a tentative smile. What did he need to fix? Incoming on Jingth's.[/i] Thank you Weith, oh so charming in your lazy tone of words! The bronze had deigned to commit some form of crime and actually ignore Jingth in all her apparent shininess. Oh yes, he was too busy dozing, waiting for someone to walk by that he could charm into feeding him.

The weyrling looked up from his pants to see Meira come at him looking rather flustered. "Is this creature yours?" he asked with a friendly smile. He grabbed Mimic around the middle and balanced him on his palm. He wasn't new to Salamandyrs, Anusha had one, only quite a bit smaller and very much less brown than this one. He was only used to ones that talked.

There really isn't anyone here to feed me, Mine. Could you hurry up? I don't want to be around Jingth, nothing really against Her's.[/i] Now is not the time to be complaining about your company, Weith.[/b] But Miiiine! If I must be around Jingth can I at least have something to irritate her with?[/i] No. Now quiet you![/b] R'men clenched his teeth slightly against the urge to just go out and yell at Weith. He hoped Meira didn't take it as a sign of him being annoyed with her. Absently he tried to think of something to occupy him while he was here.

[Avu]

Hi. Not what Mimic had been going for, but ‘hello’ was always a good start. ‘Hello’ was a nice place to start, even if he’d already said ‘hi’ a minute ago – Mimic liked greetings; they were so exciting. What next, what next? He clung to R’men’s pant leg, carefully making sure he wasn’t actually piercing skin. He’d hate to think that he hurt anyone, Mimic would; just because His was a fixer didn’t mean he wanted to make her have to fix someone. Then they might not like him and that would just be so upsetting. Fix? the brown Salamandyr prompted hopefully; maybe the bronzeweyrling just hadn’t heard him (though, given that he’d spoken mentally, how he would have missed it, Mimic didn’t quite know) or something, because Mimic thought he’d been quite clear. Please, he added helpfully, just in case R’men had been waiting for the magic word. He knew it, see? His had taught him and he remember – eep. Fingers closed around his middle and lifted him up, but instead of flailing, Mimic just went limp. Up he was lifted, the Salamandyr twisting to look back at R’men and chirp pleasantly.

“Um, yes. I’m sorry.” Meira flushed, biting her lip as she blinked down at Mimic; the Salamandyr turned to croon happily back at her. “He – yeah, I didn’t mean for him to bother you…” Not that you’re a bother; I love you – she added to Mimic privately, to reassure him. “Um…what he means, I think, is – I really don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing,” she admitted, cheeks reddening slightly before she held out both hands; Mimic squirmed out of R’men’s grasp to leap neatly into her hands and curl around her wrist, licking her thumb and cooing pleasantly up at her. “He just – he was trying to help…” She crinkled her nose in embarrassment as she looked down at the Salamandyr, who rubbed his head against her palm adoringly; the bright blues in his gaze left no question as to his affection for her. He’d done well, yes? Assuring the Salamandyr he had, indeed, done well, Meira’s gaze flicked nervously up to R’men again; she was well aware of the mutual dislike between their dragons and while she didn’t want it to make her uncomfortable, it did.

“If you know who can help – I’ll…stop bothering you. Sorry.” She was flustered, yes; the goldweyrling glanced down at Mimic again, who peeped quietly up at her, encouraging. She was the best ever, so why was she embarrassed? The very, very best; no need to be shyyyy. To emphasize this, Mimic uncoiled from Meira’s wrist and climbed up onto her shoulder, nuzzling against her neck before he offered helpfully to R’men, Fix please? Love you fix…bother sorry. The last two words were accompanied by the brown Salamandyr visibly deflating; he didn’t like to think he was a bother – he didn’t. He liked everyone, after all, and he knew that not all of them would love him like His did, but – but there was a difference between not actively liking someone and disliking them. So upsetting…absently, he arched into the finger that ran down his back as Meira stroked him, reassuring; she loved him.

Don’t be shy, LoveMine, Jingth offered, brushing against Meira’s mind gently. If you must speak to Weith’s, you may be sure you are much, much better than His will ever be; there’s no need to be nervous around him. I love you and the slave loves you and so does the baby and I’m sure that several of my slaves and /their/ slaves do, too. You don’t need him to like you. The words were clearly adoring, even if they didn’t really reassure Meira too much – she knew Jingth was trying and that was what mattered; the gold’s dislike for Weith was evident. Sigh. And here she’d thought golds were supposed to like bronzes…