dinner with the queen? (tag leshta and semith!)

[tuathade]

What do you think about the black one over there? It's the fattest... hmm, but would that be insulting? She's not a very large queen...

Do I look like an expert on dragon etiquette? Pick one already. You're terrorizing the entire sharding herd.

C'ross. This is very serious. The bronze wheeled gently, huge wings barely beating, but as his shadow passed over the herd again they huddled closer together, lowing in distress. He'd been circling them for a full minute, appraising the relative merits and disadvantages of the breeds represented. C'ross was not a beastcrafter, had never been a beastcrafter, and frankly was suspecting that his dragon might be a bit of a deadglow.

Just take whichever one you would want if it were you, he suggested, without even looking up at whichever unfortunate beast Merceth was eyeing now.

This suggestion did not have the desired effect. Merceth slowed as near to a halt as he could without falling out of the air, apparently stumped by the advice. Normally the ravenous bronze just gulped down whichever beast was unlucky enough to fall prey to his jaws first, barely even bothering to taste it. But the flightless queen Semith did not normally hunt for herself, and today Merceth had been assigned the duty of hunting dinner for her. And C'ross was all in favor of taking duty seriously, especially if assigned by the Weyrwoman, but enough was enough.

She's going to show up any moment now, he remarked offhandedly. This, at last, forced Merceth to a decision. The big dragon veered off, picking up speed, then doubled back on himself and dropped low to the ground as he came in to strike. This was the part that C'ross never got tired of watching. It was one thing to be astride Merceth's back, feeling the massive wing muscles shifting beneath him, and another altogether to watch the bronze in action from the ground. He leveled out, a long sleek line of predatory grace skimming barely a length above the ground, wings slashing at the air in quick rhythm now. One beat, two, three-

There was a very final sort of crunch, a panicked uproar from the herd, and a second crunch.

Merceth landed neatly next to C'ross, backwinging gently so that his hindlegs touched down first, the fat black herdbeast clutched firmly in his foreclaws. A second herdbeast was dangling from his bloody jaws, apparently as an afterthought. Well, at least he was efficient.

[lithle]

Mine! You are coming with me? Do you like to see the herdbeasts too?

Yes. Just about as much as they like seeing you, love. Leshta had set aside her current project and was changing into a gold and red skirt of a light-weight, south friendly material. A bit flimsy, but one changed with the climate.

Eventually.

Semith didn't hunt. She could, technically. But a queen dragon chasing down herdbeasts on foot was both silly and unpleasant for the creatures in question. Leshta had spoken to the Warden and they had agreed, with a minimum of insults, that it was better for the animals if the kills were handled in a more traditional manner. So, Semith didn't hunt. Probably for the best, as she had a bad habit of trying to chat with the herdbeasts even as she was hunting them. It was... distressing.

Leshta, though protective of her dragon, didn't usually feel a need to accompany her everywhere, certainly not to the feeding pens. Usually. But the Weyr was crawling with the Dragon Watch. Rude, the lot of them. Disrespectful to Semith and generally despicable human beings. Until they left, the Weyrwoman wasn't letting her dragon out of her sight.

So she followed along behind the cheerful queen, reaching the feeding pens shortly after Merceth settled with his selected kill. She quickly identified both dragon and rider, though she knew neither particularly well. She tried to remember names and faces, as Semith forgot.

C'ross, well, on any other day he'd have slid dangerously close to making her bad list. 'Big' and 'bronzerider' were enough to put someone on Leshta's personal grudge list. But even Leshta, with all her hate, was using up most of it on the Watch and she didn't have enough left over to instantly dislike the man. Not when his dragon was hunting for Semith, at least.

"C'ross," she spoke in clipped tones, "I'm half to killing something myself, so don't let it be you. My thanks for your Merceth's hunting."

Merceth! Did you kill it? Was it fun? I killed one once. I jumped on it! Oh, but I was all over bloody. Thank you, Merceth. I am very hungry! Her sweet, fluting mind-voice was filled with enthusiastic spikes. She'd taken the bronze's name and his riders from Leshta, not able to recall them herself. C'ross! Mine is all red and whirling. Do not put your fingers close!

She made her way to the bronze's side and butted him with her head, a friendly gesture, though one that knocked her sweet friend Mordanth off balance. Oh, but she loved food! Even if it did hurt the fun little running things.

Hello fun little running things!

Amused despite herself, as she often was, Leshta smiled at her dragon, "Forgive me bronzerider, if I am red and whirling. It's the Watch."

[tuathade]

Merceth crooned a friendly greeting as the queen butted her head against his side, eyes whirling a rare bright blue. The big bronze's affections were odd and capricious, beyond even his rider's ability to predict. But his feelings towards Semith seemed to waver between the deep respect due to a queen, and a sort of fraternal affection - one that had nothing to do with desire to chase, and everything to do with desire to eat the face of any dragon who disrespected her. The happy moment was fleeting, however, turning into a look of mild alarm as Semith informed him of the 'red and whirling' Leshta. Merceth had entirely too much experience with angry females to disregard her as a threat. He eyed Leshta dubiously, clearly concerned she was going to leap forward and attack C'ross at any moment.

One of Merceth's bloodied foreclaws was creeping forward as if to snatch his rider out of harm's way; C'ross swatted the intruding limb away before the bronze inadvertently smeared herdbeast gore all over him. Don't let the Weyrwoman bite you, Mine, he sent privately in a low tone.

Oh for Faranth's sake, Merceth. Humans don't bite.

That's not true. Remember the last time Nicoth Flew, and-

This is not a conversation we are having in front of the Weyrwoman. Private mental exchange or no, some things were just awkward.

C'ross sobered as he stepped forward and bowed deeply to both the gold and her rider. "Thanks for the warning, Semith." He had yet to interact directly with any of the visiting riders, but he could hardly fail to hear the stories running around the weyr. "And you have my apologies, Weyrwoman. I've heard that they've been... less than tactful. Disappointing - not what I'd expect to see from the Watch."

It pained C'ross to hear the complaints brought against the Watch, when he had been a proud member of that institution for so many Turns. As a younger man he might have privately agreed with the outsiders' assessment. A prison weyr with a skeleton crew, run by a Weyrwoman with a crippled gold and a bluerider for a Weyrleader? It ran counter to all common sense. But three Turns at Warden's taught him respect. The dragon guards were doing unpleasant but necessary work for the sake of all of Pern. Their methods were unorthodox but they worked. C'ross had his doubts about the health of the oddly colored dragonets, and even more doubts about the wisdom of entrusting infant dragons to prisoners. But it wasn't his decision, and it certainly wasn't his place to pass judgement. He trusted the leaders of the weyr. Only time would tell if the dragonets grew up healthy and capable, and Watch meddling certainly would not alter that outcome to the better.

And beyond that, anyone with the utter gall to waltz into a strange weyr and offer insult to the Weyrwoman - well, they deserved whatever consequences they got.

And so, rather than sympathize with the intruding riders, C'ross instead took their impudence as a personal insult and a smear on the reputation of the Watch as a whole. While his voice was calm and level, there was a certain ominous, militant gleam in his eye as he spoke. "Perhaps Merceth and I should have a talk with one of them?"

[lithle]

All the tension seemed to go out of Leshta between one breath and the next as C'ross bowed and, unexpectedly, apologized for the Watch's actions. Ahh, yes, he had been a member of that august order. But here he was, speaking to her with respect, treating her like a human being. And, most importantly, he wasn't insulting Semith. Leshta was ready to present the world on a platter to anyone who was polite to Semith.

Suddenly, C'ross wasn't teetering on the edge between Leshta's white and black lists. Nope, he'd toppled headfirst into her goodbooks, there to remain until the earth exploded. Even if he was big. Couldn't blame him for being tall anymore than he could blame her for being short and heavy. Man, but she did hate looking up at a person. Ahh well, she'd just have to step back when she spoke to him.

Semith for her part, was only too pleased to feel her rider relaxing. She gleefully dug into the herdbeast that Merceth had brought down with her, digging in with a bloody joyousness that got mess everywhere. This is the best Merceth. You found the best one! Would you like some? I could share! I'm good at sharing! She hesitated a moment, But I am very hungry. Is there something else I could share instead?

"Today, one of your former comrades threatened to stalk me after scoffing at our 'pathetic excuse for a weyr'," she said. Her tone was milder now, almost amused. The anger had retreated, she could breathe again. "He'll be flying patrols with our squads until he learns manners. Would you like him in yours?"

There was a wicked edge to her tone, there, "I'm half tempted to arrange for him to be transferred here at least temporarily. He'll learn to respect what you guards do after he's spent a few months in the air with you."

She moved to lean against the fence that held the herdbeasts caged, her attention remaining firmly on C'ross. She seemed almost a different person. Oh, the same sense of energy was there, but she stood differently, less like she was going to lunge at the world and rip out its throat with her teeth. "But no, you needn't go about talking to them. They'll be interrogating you soon enough."

She raised an eyebrow, smirking, "So, are you our man or theirs? Going to be spilling some dirty secrets?"

[tuathade]

See?[/i] Merceth exulted privately to his rider. I was right!

Semith liked the herdbeast he'd picked! AND she was offering him food! Best queen. New friend. Oh, offering Merceth a share was a terrible idea though. For a moment his eyes whirled hungrily, before a quick mental nudge from C'ross reminded him of his manners. You have your own. Oh right. The second herdbeast he'd snapped up.

That one's yours, he informed Semith matter-of-factly, already tearing into his own. And you already shared the hunting with me! I like hunting. But C'ross gets annoyed when I take extra for myself. Not that the lean and rangy bronze looked like an extra herdbeast or two would hurt him any, but C'ross knew from experience that left to his own devices Merceth had about as much self-control as a newly hatched weyrling.

While he kept half an eye on his dragon to make sure Merceth was behaving, C'ross was used to dividing his attention between the troublesome bronze and a conversation, and outwardly remained focused on Leshta. Now that she had relaxed, he let himself do the same, stiff posture unwinding somewhat as he leaned against the fence as well. For a moment, when Leshta suggested he take the wayward rider into his squad, he even allowed a wicked grin to slip past his usual reserve. "I'd be delighted to show him the ropes." Was C'ross aware of his reputation as a particularly harsh squadleader? Absolutely. He was sharding proud of it. Why shouldn't he be? He'd worked his ass off to get it.

His expression turned grave again at her question. "My loyalty is to the weyr," he replied simply, looking her in the eye before turning away to watch Semith and Merceth together. "She is as fine a queen as any on Pern. And anyone stupid enough to think otherwise does not deserve the title of rider."

[lithle]

Semith was quiet a moment, munching her dinner and considering her new friend. She couldn't just share nothing, not when Merceth had brought her a nice tasty herdbeast and been so kind. Raising her head, she gave a high, bugling call. Flit and Other Flit, Leshta's two firelizards, blinking in from between, chittering.

With Leshta not much caring for firelizards, the pair existed for Semith's entertainment and they were accustomed to doing her errands. They circled her head, taking instructions and disappeared again.

Moments later, they returned, hauling a shell between them. It was white with accents of pink and green when the light hit it properly. Semith had received it as a gift at the Touching and added it to her hoard. Now, the firelizards dropped it near Merceth.

It's a shiny! she explained, giving the shell a fond look. It didn't even occur to her that others might not like bits and baubles as much as she did. Her treasures were wonderful and gave her great joy. Surely, it'd be the same for Merceth. For you. Because we are friends.

Leshta watched the whole exchange with a fond smile, momentarily distracted from C'ross. Whatever else Semith might be, she was good. Good in a way few were, and Leshta included herself in the number of those who didn't live up to her dragons saintly demeanor. But that was important. Semith was soft, someone needed to be the hard wall that wrapped around her, kept her safe.

"I'll be sure to send him your way, then. I don't envy you the company but perhaps he'll have more respect for an old comrade." She didn't acknowledge his statement of loyalty, so serious in the face of her teasing. It comforted her though. Hate it or no, this was her Weyr. She too, was loyal to it. Even to the Warden, whatever she thought of him.

"There'd be few enough riders if we denied the title to any who spoke ill of her." Her tone was wry, but not angry. The compliment to Semith had brought up a rare, genuine smile, untainted by the veil of anger that usually hung over the Weyrwoman.

"She's a good Queen for Warden's," Leshta said, admitting a truth that she often struggled with, "She sees the best in the place."

"And she likes your Merceth. She doesn't part with her treasures lightly."

[tuathade]

Merceth was not fond of flits, on the whole. Most of his experience was with Useless, the little green whom C'ross had Impressed entirely by accident, and she had since gone half-feral and completely obnoxious in short order. I'saac had no firelizards at all, and the bronze was generally irritable enough when it came to small chattering things to keep other people's flits away. Still, he tolerated the two little creatures, who had clearly come at Semith's request. And when they reappeared shortly after, he was far too interested in what they were carrying to care about the flits themselves.

Oh, he said softly, leaning his head down to inspect it more closely. What an interesting shell! It must have come from the beach nearby, he suspected, but Merceth rarely paid close attention to the sand at his feet when he and C'ross went down there, and even when he did, he found little more than fragments of shell and washed-up seaweed. Certainly nothing like this little treasure. It is shiny. Thank you, Semith. He looked back up at the queen, eyes swirling blue and bright. If I find anything shiny or interesting, I will save it and give it to you. For as long as he remembered, at any rate.

C'ross smiled wryly, though whether it was at his dragon's antics or Leshta's words, it wasn't clear. "I doubt I'm fondly remembered among the Watch," he remarked matter-of-factly, sounding surprisingly unconcerned. Once it would have concerned him, but not anymore. He had the Weyr. He had the respect and affection of the one rider who mattered. Whether or not his former comrades wished him well was immaterial.

Still, he was not so inclined to let any of Semith's detractors off the hook. "For so-called traditionalists, they're awfully quick to forget that a gold is more than a shiny hide." Were she not so inclined to goodness, Semith could have easily controlled any of their dragons. She had the same inarguable, genetically-ingrained command ability of any queen. With more humor, he added, "Unlike my giant wherry there... who doesn't seem to have the brains to fill a klah mug - Merceth, let me, you're going to break it -"

C'ross strode over to where the bronze was nosing curiously at the ground near the shell. Merceth was apparently trying to figure out how he would pick up and carry the tiny, fragile treasure. C'ross cut straight to the obvious solution by picking it up himself and tucking it away securely. "I'll put it somewhere safe when we go back to the weyr," he told his dragon, aloud so that Semith could hear as well.

[lithle]

Semith had gone back to her meal, eating with less gusto now that her hunger was partly sated. She kept her attention on Merceth, happy to see her present so well received. She gave a churr of approval when C'ross came over to pick up the shell, watching as he secreted it away, reassured that her treasure would be kept safe.

Thank you! I have lots of treasures! I will show you sometime. But not now, when we are eating. Because shiny bits were all well and good, but food was important and this was a particularly tasty herdbeast. She'd made her way through a good portion of it. She was not a delicate or careful eater.

"Well, nevermind them. You're thought of well here." There was a clipped irritation to her tone, but now that irritation was protective. C'ross was her Squadleader, and she'd not tolerate the Watch speaking poorly of him. "I think the Watch lost one of their best when you came to us and I'm happy we can make use of what they allowed to slip away."

She'd been staring at Merceth, studying that scarred hide and remembering, finally a bit more about C'ross. His Weyrmate rode that savage green and his bronze, who was being so sweet to Semith, bore the marks of that truth.

She searched a bit for a name and did not struggle long. Some events marked themselves on ones memory. "How is I'saac? Warden making sure to schedule you the occasional day together? I know how hard you work. I can have a word with him."

Or anyway, write a very pointed letter.

She liked him, now. Which meant she wanted to take care of him.

[tuathade]

Nothing, not even a present from a queen, could distract Merceth from food for very long. As soon as he saw the shell safely stowed away, and as soon as Semith reminded him of the reason that the two dragons were at the pens to begin with, his eyes went from blue back to a hungry deep red and he rumbled his agreement. With no further ado, the bronze tore into his own herdbeast with gusto; it vanished with alarming speed into the sharp-fanged maw.

Sitting back on his haunches, he churred in satisfaction and cleaned the remnants of the gore off his foreclaws and muzzle - rather like a feline, actually. His post-meal fastidiousness struck a strange contrast to his blithe disregard for the mess during the meal itself, but just another of Merceth's odd little idiosyncracies.

C'ross wasn't entirely sure whether to be discomfited or pleased by Leshta's praise. So outwardly, at least, he settled on a slight shrug and a noncommital dip of the head. "I try," he managed. "That's all that anyone can do." That his efforts were recognized by the Weyrwoman… Well, it was flattering, in a sense. “We’re doing what’s necessary to keep Pern running. It’s hard for outsiders to understand if they haven’t experienced it firsthand.”

When she mentioned I’saac, he was a little more surprised. That she would remember the two of them were together – oh right. Nicoth. The aggressive green was rather, er, memorable. Memorable was the nicest word he could think of for what she was. C’ross didn’t know Warden V’tya very well – and he doubted anyone did, the fellow bronzerider did not exactly seem to be the warm and open type. But he would have been mortified by anything implying to the Warden that C’ross wanted to slack off his squad duties to have an extra tumble with his greenrider.

“We do all right. Our shifts coincide often enough – as often as any two riders in different squads, anyway. And – “ He hesitated for a moment, before adding, “it’s better to have Nicoth and Merceth separated most of the time.”

[lithle]

I am done now, mine. I want to go swimming. Semith had made short work of the herdbeast and now, full and contented, she was anxious to move on to the next adventure. And, while swimming might not be a grand adventure, the dolphins were great fun. Merceth, thank you! You are a great hunter. I hope we can eat together again soon.

Very well, sweetling. Just a moment. Leshta allowed her dragons restless excitement to effect her, feeling the gold's joy sizzle beneath her own skin. Sometimes, she thought Semith was her happiness, that any she might feel must be experienced through the dragon.

Other times, well. It hadn't been so bad, talking to C'ross. He was a good man and she liked him. There were good things in Warden's. Some day, she'd learn to remember that. But not today.

Today she would just be content with his assurance that he and his Weyrmate were happy and reasonably well looked after. Besides, the man had a point. It was clear enough that the dragons needed to be kept separated when possible. Odd, as Merceth seemed such a fine bronze.

She wondered, briefly, if their relationship mirrored their dragons and dismissed it. She was not Semith. There was no reason to believe that I'saac was anything like his savage green.

"Very well. If that changes, or, if you need anything, just let me know. I'll see to it. For now, Semith wants to go for a swim." She gave a slight bow. "My thanks for the company, Squadleader."