The Feeding Buckets (1/4)

Writers: Iluva, Corrin, Aaron
Date Posted: 25th November 2024

Characters: Sybana, M'rhas, Z'renh
Description: A ruckus occurs at the new weyrlings’ first feeding. Passively. With no discernible cause.
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 3, day 22 of Turn 12

Sybana

M'rhas

Z’renh had never been more relieved in his life. He had expected pride. Or… excitement? But it was just relief. He had finally found exactly what he had been looking for all along. But. Well, now he had no plans for what came next. What came next was unimportant. This was what everything had been building to. He never had to worry about what came next again.

}:I am hungry. I will eat,:{ said Adamanth.

**Yeah, of course. Look, they have it all set up for us for our first time.**

}:Yes. Good. I will eat.:{

The rest was implied. You will get my food, and you will give it to me. Z’renh wanted to smile. But… something felt… Well, not like he expected it to.

Oh, of course, the moment of Impression itself felt every bit as wonderful and miraculous as they always said, but… Well, this? He felt a bit like a tool. Nevertheless, he retrieved the bowl of meat for Adamanth.

Who promptly dove in and chewed several meat hunks all at once.

“Hey! You're not meant to eat it like that. You have to go slow. Chew it.”

}:I will eat,:{ Adamanth repeated. He was chewing, not just swallowing the hunks whole, so that was something. But no matter how many times Z’renh insisted that he slow down, he did not. The weyrlingmasters always said they had to force them to eat slowly, to chew. But Adamanth’s will was like steel. Like diamond. He loved Z’renh. But he did not care what he thought.

That felt a bit like a contradiction to Z’renh. But it was all too natural for Adamanth. A dragon loved his wings, his arms. His rider. And would not be the same without any of them. But he was in control of his arms and his wings. They did not tell him what to do or how. Neither would his rider.

Z’renh tried to exert his will over the little bronze. _You will slow._ Adamanth did not even pause to look at him to show just how amused he was that he would try to take control. It was very cute, and Adamanth was pleased. But he did not heed it. He simply finished the meat.

}:I will have more.:{

**You're only meant to have one. It was sized just for you to have enough. You've had enough.** It was just as they had always described it in classes. Z’renh was no longer starving, himself, so that meant Adamanth had had enough.

}:I will have more.:{ Now the bronze did look him in the eye, and the weight of his will was like an avalanche. It could sweep him off his feet. Bury him. Suffocate him.

**Fine.** “Fine!” Z’renh gasped for breath. **I'll get you another one.** He was sure he could convince the weyrlingmasters to give him one more bowl.

Adamanth sat, pleased that his rider had done as his other appendages and gone to work his will. But. Waiting was hard. He never had to wait for his leg to move when he wanted to walk. He sighed. This was ridiculous. He would just get it himself.

There. There was another bowl already. Nevermind that some other blue thing was trying to eat from it. It would move. Adamanth shoved the blue and its rider aside and dove into the bowl for more meat.

M'rhas had something stuck in his eyes since reaching the feeding buckets: his dragon. _His_ dragon. His strange, wonderful little dragon. The missing part of him right before his eyes at last, like he always imagined. He was a little surprised that he kept wanting to call him beautiful, which was something he really only thought of girls as being.

Yet Alzaryth was beautiful in a way that put Ghraisath to shame, and crouching next to Alzaryth, touching him, seeing him with his own eyes and seeing himself back through them with that completeness, that joy, almost made M’rhas believe that he didn't need eyes at all anymore, not when their hearts saw so deeply and clearly into one another.

Wrong.

He was wrong. He realized that the instant a giant floppy mouth collided with them, rider and dragon smacking skulls, Alzaryth squawking and scrambling on top of him as his razor-like talons fought to avoid contact. It happened quickly, and ended lamely: M’rhas’ head hit the floor and a flapping wing fell softly across his vicious face. Groaning, the first thing he knew was that the twinging pain in his shoulder was not his own. And although all he could see was that perfect blue wing over his eyes, all he _saw_ was red.

The moment they were righted, M'rhas rounded on Adamanth.

}: Oh no, no, :{ Alzaryth pleaded, staring nervously between his rider’s legs. }: I’m okay. :{

It was expected of baby dragons, still wild with their hunger. He knew that. He understood that gnawing instinct better than ever before. But having Alzaryth’s fear and dismay wash across his mind wasn’t something M’rhas was prepared for. It was devastating, and enraging, and it was one of those moments where he knew it might be better to stop, run, hide, yield, before -

}: Oh, let’s do that! :{

- the worst happened.

But M’rhas’ big hands had already flung out around the bowl's bloody rim, gripping it with all his feral strength. “What the - gimme that. Gimme that! Get your own, fatty! This is Alzaryth’s.” Yanking against the power and determination in Adamanth’s jaws, he didn’t think to look up - for Z’renh, for M’thos, for ‘help’ of some sort - or anywhere other than where he next planted his foot on this dragon's meatroll of a neck, trying to shove him back and away. “Gimme it!”

Adamanth squawked with indignation through his clenched jaws. Who was this audacious upstart, daring to steal what was his? He wanted to tear his insolent arms off, but there was something… For some reason he did not understand, he simply could not do that. His claws would not obey.

Well. He had a better tool for that. One who could do what he needed.

}:I will not be robbed!:{ he announced to Z’renh, who immediately dropped everything to rush back to Adamanth.

**What are you doing? That isn't yours!**

}:I WILL NOT BE ROBBED.:{

Z’renh did not even remember swinging his clenched fist at M’rhas. It was as though his body moved all on its own. He had to protect what belonged to Adamanth.

Through Alzaryth’s senses M’rhas first caught a flash of Z’renh’s fist coming at him from behind, watched his curled head turn to show teeth bared, prepared to attack, but he wasn’t quick enough to avoid or even properly block it.

“WHAT THE FLYING F-” Instead he was cut off by sudden pain, the punch concentrating in the awkward crook of his neck, radiating in along his shoulders and upper back like he’d been hit with a steel hammer. The one upside was that his jaw had been spared, letting an enraged snarl at both rider and tubby dragon erupt from his throat. Who did they think they were?!

}: Mine, no! :{ Just barely avoiding the fray, Alzaryth bolted behind the nearest uninvolved pair. His anxious eyes’ whirling accelerated as he watched his beloved rider drop the bowl to throw his red fist into Z’renh’s lip.

That was an unpleasant sensation. Ow. But. More importantly, that thieving git had dropped his bowl of food, so Adamanth took the opportunity to dig in. His rider would continue to keep the thieves at bay.

“Wh-- ah… I…” Z’renh wiped his lip and then stared down at his bloody hand. Was that his blood? Well, most of it was. “What are we…?” He looked up and stared with confusion at M’rhas. They should not be doing this. But… also, he was doing exactly what he was supposed to be doing, because Adamanth was eating, and that was the point. His head was swimming from the blow, and his hand hurt, and…

Well, at least Adamanth was finally feeling satisfied. So he had that going for him. He thought.

“Did I hit you?”

There was a throaty little bellow before M’rhas could respond as the gold of the clutch came charging onto the scene.

Last updated on the December 10th 2024

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The Feeding Buckets (1/4)