Running errands (tag Gift!)

[maggie]

Although most of the weyr knew better than to ask the irascible albino to do anything, there were a few people for whom Takei would do any task with a smile. His primary allegiance was, of course, to Zalmask and her handler. Mostly to Zalmask, although he did like Z a lot, especially when the man was drunk. However, one must never neglect a queen, and therefore he did accept to do some running around for Claresk, even if she was not as friendly as Zalmask. She did, after all, deserve respect. And if that meant running errands for Boy, that's what it meant.

Takei knocked on the goldhandler's door, waiting to be admitted with the tray of food he was carrying. The kitchen's staff were a little leery of the younger gold pair, and preferred to let the eager young man fetch and carry. He was hoping that Boy would let him linger a bit, and that he could discuss a bit about the experience of being a Hold wher. He had grown up in a Weyr-hold, which he assumed was a little different than what Boy had experienced, and neither of his parents' whers had been clipped. He found the tradition a little barbaric, in fact, but he was dying to hear the pair's opinion on the subject. Not that he would push too hard, since Claresk was likely to take offense and bite him. He had enough bite scars from aggravated whers already, he had no plans to add to the collection.

[giftwrapped]

Door knocking. Door open!

Curled in the corner of the room (which, in this case meant taking up a full half of the space) and glaring nastily at the desk at which her human sat, a massive dark-shaded gold wher lifted her head to stare at the door. Her handler, hunched over a sheaf of papers and muttering to himself, gave no appearance of noticing or caring at all. Which meant that Claresk would just have to do it herself. Snorting noisily, the wher shuffled her bulk around, heaving to her feet and moving for the long rope that hung from the door handle. It was good that doors in the wher complex were by and large the sort that could be pushed open. It meant Claresk could get the door when her handler was too busy to.

Claresk's lazy and wherryheaded, she remarked in acid tones, tugging at the rope until she could jam a claw between the door and the doorframe. That done, the gold thrust her muzzle into the gap she had created, swinging the heavy door open by virtue of the strength of her neck and her generally impressive bulk. She was not as large as Zalmask, certainly, but the gold wher was plenty strong and plenty intimidating, or at least she considered herself to be as she squinted irritably at Takei. Then she lifted her head to the tray, inhaled deeply, and snorted dismissively. In. Food come in. All-pale boy bring food, she remarked in an aside to her handler, moving out of the way to make a space for Takei to squeeze in.

Only then did her handler look up, frowning slightly at the young man. Had he sent for food? He might have. Claresk might have as well, in one of her rare moments of concern for his well-being. Faranth, how long had he been working? He didn't know; it seemed like all he had done since he showed up at the sharding Weyr was work. Either work on a patrol with other whers, or work doing the paperwork that the Wherleader decided to shove off on him. Fat lot of good responsibility did if all you were going to do was drink and ignore your actual work.

Claresk's distracted wherryhead. A sharp snort and the 'thud' of the door swinging shut behind the albino wher candidate brought her handler back to the present moment, and Boy stood up reluctantly, shoving the sheaf of papers aside and moving to take the tray from the albino boy. He dimly recognized him as the son of other wherfolk, and it seemed a much more practical life for one of the pale-skinned oddities that Warden's seemed to sprout like mushrooms than the life of a weyrling or whatever-the-shards the others did.

"Thanks," he grunted, looking the kid up and down and then shrugging a bit. What were you supposed to do when someone brought you something? He knew shards-nothing about etiquette at this forsaken hunk of land, but from the way Claresk was eying Takei, he could only assume that he was supposed to make nice with the kid or some other sharding thing. Setting the tray down, he inspected the food with a critical eye, then shrugged, picking up a meatroll and tossing it to Takei.

"You don' got nothin' else t'do, yer welcome t'stay with me'n Claresk f'ra bit," he said, collapsing into the chair and staring at the pile of paperwork he'd shoved out of the way. Things were different here than they were at the hold, and shards and fardles did he hate it! But Claresk didn't seem to be objecting to the kid, and if that was the way it was going to be, he'd let him stay for a while. It wouldn't do to piss off the rest of t he wherhandlers, after all. Gold wher didn't mean you couldn't get the other handlers all in a tizzy by making their kid cry or something.

Contented with the situation, Claresk returned to her place in the corner, pausing near Takei and taking a moment to sniff him over thoroughly. Bringing food for wherryhead Claresk's good, she observed to Takei in what passed as pleasant tones, bumping her muzzle roughly against his arm before circling a few times and flopping down with a thud that rattled the mug of klah on Boy's tray.

[maggie]

Takei was surprised to see the gold open the door herself. He shook his head to get rid of what must have initially been a shocked expression, them smiled a bit at the Claresk, addressing her directly. Unlike with the riders, where the dragons insisted, for the most part, on speaking through their riders, he had found many whers to be more open to chatting. "Well he's doing important things. Kitchen didn't think he'd have time to think of food. Happens." He shrugged, then reached up to catch the meatroll that was headed his way. "You don't have to share," he told Boy. "I ate down in the kitchen. They said you hadn't been down to eat yet, so I figured it was a good way to meet Claresk." He had also found that wher handlers, again for the most part since there were always exceptions, preferred blunt honesty. He gave the gold a nod. "Takei, at your service. My mother is green Task's handler." He knew Claresk would probably recognise Task's name more than she would his mother, so he didn't bother to elaborate.

He looked over at the pile of paperwork that was being pushed around. "Anything I can do to be useful while I'm here instead of just hanging around? I don't want to be in your way. That pile looks big enough to hide even Claresk." He paused. "If not, and if it's not too rude... I was raised in a weyrhold and then here, I've never spoken to a simply Hold-born wher, would either of you mind if I asked questions?