The Feeding Buckets (3/4)

Writers: Yvonne, Sia, Shawna, Iluva, Heather, Duskdog, Corrin, Aaron
Date Posted: 25th November 2024

Characters: Sanvi, Zaphare, Nosarre, M'thos, L'kayric, Lyndana, E'kirim, 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

Zaphare

M’rhas felt his legs somewhere under him and staggered upright. His face, dripping with bile, breakfast, and blood, was still fixed in a vicious scowl that worsened when he caught sight of Z’renh. His nose flowed like a river, blood freely joining several other unfortunate stains all down his robe. “But… dad…” He coughed, trying not to spray his father, then just jerked back and out of his grasp. There was no point of it, not now. All that mattered was Alzaryth.

Alzaryth was still hungry, still tucked beneath his sister’s wing. His head perked up as his rider approached, but he didn’t fully crawl out from under Veralinth’s shield until his rider finally touched him with a slow-drying, disgusting hand.

“Hey, I’m okay.” M’rhas smoothed his blue down reassuringly, giving an appreciative nod to Lyndana and her lovely green. “Thanks, I owe you.”

“Sure. It was nothing,” Lyndana said as Veralinth gave her brother a little farewell headbutt (she was nicer about it than she had been with Lyndana earlier).

}: Is… Is it okay to go eat again? :{ Alzaryth took a few paces forward and stopped, paw poised mid-air, scanning about anxiously.

M’rhas lead the way, turning his scowl on anyone in their path to another Weyrlingmaster for more food. **I’ll make it okay if I have to.**

For a short few blessed moments, L’kayric had been lost in his own little world, lost in his dragon’s eyes as he fed him carefully piece by piece. But the screeching and clattering had been impossible to ignore. It took him a moment to really take in what was happening -- this _chaos_ felt like as much of a crazy dream as his Impression did -- but by the time M’thos stepped in, he felt compelled to move, too.

“Zor-- I mean, Z’renh!” he said, worried, placing a hand on the other boy’s back. “Are you okay? Just catch your breath, go slow, you can do it…!”

}:Adamanth,:{ said Orysteth, blinking slowly. }:You can have the rest of my bowl, if you can’t bear to wait. I will get more.:{

"C'mon, Z'renh." M'thos urged. "Deep breath. Can you stand? Tell Adamanth that you're all right, but he's not to eat until you're ready."

**I am all right,** said Z’renh to the greedy bronze-- though he was not sure he believed it. He dragged himself to his feet… or perhaps Adamanth dragged him to his feet.

}:You will stand. You are ready for me to eat. That one relinquished its meat, I will eat it.:{

He did not wait for Z’renh’s approval. He dove into the bowl and consumed the remaining meat with little concern for Orysteth.

"Make sure he _chews_." M'thos emphasized, though he didn't move to try and get the bucket back. That was between Z'renh and L'kayric. Instead, he put a hand on Z'renh's shoulder and tried to assess his throat. "It doesn't look bad, but we'll get you to the healers after Adamanth is in bed. Can you talk?"

“Yeah,” Z’renh rasped. It did not feel good to do so, however. He supposed that had been the idea.

**Chew the--**

}:I know how to eat.:{

Z'renh winced at the sharpness of Adamanth’s interruption.

M'thos raised his eyebrows just slightly as he caught the quick conversation between the new pair. "As long as he doesn't choke." He clarified gently. "If the pain gets worse or spreads, let one of us know. We'll talk about consequences once you're both seen to."

L’kayric was relieved enough that Z’renh (and M’rhas) seemed okay that Adamanth’s face in Orysteth’s bucket only bothered him a little bit.

}:I offered it,:{ Orysteth reminded him, lest that feeling grow. }:There are more, and I am patient. We shall get one of those.:{

Galgaith was in the thick of it, eyes whirling with hunger and joy as she chased down hunks of meat with a few of the other dragonets. She was having the time of her young life.

Sybana, standing just outside of the melee, found herself caught up in it all. Through their bond, she could feel Galgaith’s delight in the chase, her intense pleasure in eating, her awe of the world. Everything was fresh and new to the gold, everything was wonderful. This was wonderful. She laughed as Galgaith plodded into Norrianth, both in hot pursuit of the same rolling bucket. “Careful!” she called, though it lacked any real scolding. Galgaith rumbled happily in response.

Then M’thos warning cut through the air and her own reality came sharply into focus. What a bloody _mess_. She flushed, mortified to be called out specifically, mortified that the dragon, _her_ dragon, was scrounging on the floor like a canine. She hadn’t really understood when T’lonas had talked to her before about pushing her will onto a dragon. She had no frame of reference. All she knew was that she wanted it to **STOP.**

Galgaith was already turning to look, sensing Sybana’s mood had changed, when the mental command came thundering down. There was no finesse, little nuance. It landed like a blow and the burly hatchling squawked in alarm and dismay, freezing in place. }:Why? Why are you _shouting_ at me? I thought… I thought I was doing well. I chewed.:{ Her eyes turned the saddest grey.

“Oh, darling, I’m sorry!” Sybana rushed forward to comfort her lifemate--and promptly slid into her as her sandals failed against the blood and breakfast slick floor.

Galgaith was, at least, supported unwillingly by Norrianth attempting to shove her away from _his_ feeding bucket. He was big but not that big, and took to snapping up meat faster than the monstrosity could. He did not take the warning to chew and in his haste he coughed up a few larger pieces, joining the rest of the bile and breakfast on the floor.

"Norri! Too fast, buddy. Look, look." E'kirim scrambled for the overturned bucket and propped it back up. There was still a quarter left, maybe enough to distract the bronze from forcing himself to puke. "Much better than squished meat, c'mon. Chew it."

Norrianth nosed the bucket, shoved Galgaith a little for good measure, and stuck his head inside instead.

Somewhere nearby Adamanth, Nosarre sat as primly as she could, holding the bowl of meat in her lap. **Sit still, nicely.** She told the little green as she held out a piece of meat just out of reach. She had made it very clear; if Kiziolth couldn't sit like a good girl, she wasn't going to get any dinner. Kiziolth sat on her haunches, wings tightly folded like Nosarre instructed so they wouldn't get underfoot again. She'd lunged the first time and Nosarre had pulled it away.

Kiziolth waited patiently for Nosarre to drop the meat into her waiting mouth. She chewed it like she was supposed to, and opened her mouth for another.

“Absolutely not,” Sanvi told Respellath, who hovered near Kiziolth and watched the chaos unfurling beside them with bright, curious eyes. “You will get trampled.”

**But what if it’s better?** Respellath licked her bloody muzzle as Galgaith stomped on a hunk of raw herdbeast. Meat squished between her massive toes. **Galgaith wants it.**

“That dragon will probably mistake _you_ for dinner,” Sanvi muttered, eyeing the gold warily. She dangled a strip of badly cut steak in front of Respellath’s nose, who reluctantly allowed herself to be distracted. “And this is right here.”

Respellath gently accepted the offering, chewed it twice and hurriedly swallowed so she could dive for a slimy bit of floor meat as it sailed across the room toward them. Sanvi groaned. Her Kitchen friends would be horrified�" the new dragonets were all a bunch of thieving flits.

“You’ve got your own, too,” Zaphare reminded Zollarth as she felt his interest pique at the meat scattered across the floor, his eyes glittering greedily. “Let ‘em gobble up gross floor meat -- you get your very own bucket!”

}:And they can’t have it?:{ the blue asked, though it was as much statement as question.

“Of course not, it’s _ours_,” she replied, and he squirmed visibly with pleasure at both the reassurance and the designation of the meat bucket as “ours”. She couldn’t even say where the compulsion to say “ours” instead of “yours” had come from, but she was starting to suspect that the line between herself and her dragon was a lot blurrier than she had expected it to be.

It was an unsettling thought, but at the same time not. He loved her. Somehow, in the span of less than ten minutes, she had realized a love that she didn’t even think was possible -- that she hadn’t even realized she had been missing until it appeared to complete her. And he was nothing without her, too -- she could feel it plainly, that there had been no Zollarth, not really, until there was Zollarth and Zaphare. So why cling to the person she used to be, when she could be _them_ instead?

Was that her thought, or his?

She genuinely couldn’t tell, and it bothered her enough that she found herself looking around at her new clutchmates rather than allow herself to think any deeper on it.

There was Nosarre, her green sitting so prettily in front of her, like a trained canine. They stood out amongst the rest -- both because she already had thoughts about Nosarre herself, and because, well, they were the opposite of chaos right now. It was a cute green; she felt Zollarth pause in his eating, warning bells chiming in both their heads, abruptly cutting off that train of thought and forcing her to focus on Nosarre, instead.

She dragged her eyes up from the green to meet Nosarre’s eyes, her lips curling into a grin. “Nice gold you’ve got there.”

Nosarre's hand stilled mid-motion, meat hovering just above Kiziolth's eager mouth. She didn't need to look up to feel Zaphare's smug grin cutting through the air. Her blood boiled. Kiziolth whined softly, her eyes whirling with confusion at the sudden burning rage over something she didn't understand and someone she didn't know, but Nosarre barely registered it. She dropped the meat but Kiziolth had already closed her mouth to look over at Zollarth. The cut of steak smacked ungracefully atop her head, and she shook her head and watched it flop to the floor.

Without any warning, Nosarre's fist connected with Zaphare's face. She'd never hit anyone before, and her fist came back smarting from the blow.

Last updated on the December 10th 2024

Welcome to Triad Weyrs!

The Feeding Buckets (3/4)