Don’t You Want To Know How? {Zephyr}

[Chek]

Letting Damask gnaw on the heel of one of her boots – the fact she was wearing it aside – was more than worth being able to use the red’s spines as hangers for the pieces of her current project. The boots were old, anyway. And Damask was being neat about it; a small pile of thin strips of leather lay next to one of her massive paws, from where the wher had almost delicately torn long strips out of the shoe’s hard sole.

Hanging from her spines were pieces of Shino’s wher costume.

As best as Damali had been able to tell, the tail of it had gotten caught on something and torn, pulling a big piece out of the back of the cape. Disappointed by the weakness of the material, Damali had reclaimed it to fix and reinforce the fabric – by adding markings in a different shade of pink (which, as she was not going to tell Shino, were going to echo Shinsk’s markings).

Damask agreed with her, it would be much improved and very adorable.

That was what had lead Damali to working in the dimly lit Dining hall in the early morning, long before all but the Headwoman were stirring with thoughts of breakfast. She’d claimed a comfortable chair by the low fire and was working by the light of a specially rigged basket of glows which directed light towards her work, and not all around – which mean that her wher was able to join her.

It was nice, since Damask rarely was able to venture into these parts of the weyr anymore; either it was crowded and therefore inconvenient for her size, or they were busy elsewhere when they could otherwise be enjoying it.

Scuttling feet, people come. Quietly. Damask abruptly told her handler, lifting her head and letting Damali’s poor boot (and foot) drop from her mouth. She otherwise didn’t move, and in fact, quickly went back to her chewing.

“You can wander on in, I’m not going to chase you out,” Damali called out, focusing back on her neat stitches after a moment.

[Zephyr]

It was time for sleep. Living with a wher had forced Mouse to conform to the nocturnal lifestyle of the handlers. It wasn’t difficult for her. She was a child, highly adaptable to any situation. Still, there was something that kept her awake, even as the brown wher pulled her in for the day, the little girl was so full of energy that she couldn’t stay in one spot, and she certainly couldn’t sleep. Eyes found the form of Charlie…the puppy who wasn’t such a puppy anymore. Even the usually rambunctious young canine was dead to the world, stretched out at the foot of Genner’s bed like an overgrown throw rug.

Mouse wriggled in the confines of ‘her’ wher’s body, snuffling down into the ring of muscle until she just couldn’t sit still anymore. Silently as possible, she extracted herself from the wher, stepping away from him to survey her current situation. This wasn’t just excess energy from the day, this was a restless sort of energy. Mouse wanted to wander, and she wanted to go alone.

Normally, she would awaken Charlie so that the canine could accompany her on her adventures, but she left the animal to sleep. The canine was exceedingly gentle with her, even when he’d gotten so big that he could crush her easily, he wouldn’t bite her, even for awakening him.

For once she was fine without him.

This wasn’t her first time sneaking out of Genner’s room. She’d perfected the art of sneaking out, because no matter how much he called her his, Gennesk was not her wher, and she did not belong to him. She would never have the kind of relationship that the older man had with the wher, and that was okay with Mouse, because she just adored them both and loved knowing the kindly wher. Searching for something of her very own would become a pastime for the child, even if she’d never find it…she had to at least look.

This was what drew Mouse along the quiet passageways, a tiny child alone in a wher. It was the between time. The handlers were bedding down and the daytime people were just waking up. There weren’t many people around during this time, and the child was left to wander unperturbed, not knowing what she was looking for.

The dining hall was a last minute decision. It was big, and usually full of people. It probably wouldn’t be now, but maybe something there would ease her wanderlust for the moment. She found it in the form of a massive red wher and her handler.

Mouse froze.

Probably because of her habit of running up and hugging anything reptilian, dragon or wher, regardless of color, her guardians had attempted to drill manners into the girl’s head. She just couldn’t freely approach any wher she wanted, and she should try and avoid the red ones at all costs. Despite her energy and her penchant for wanting to know absolutely EVERYONE, OMG…Mouse would be a good girl and avoid this red wher…until her handler spoke.

The little girl squeaked and jumped a good foot into the air. She’d been so sneaky! How’d the woman know she was there? Regardless, that was all the permission Mouse needed to approach the red and her handler, but Mouse still knew that she shouldn’t hug the red. Instead, she hid behind a chair near the pair and peeked out shyly at the massive wher, big brown eyes wide with awe. She is so pretty…sososo pretty. They’re both so pretty. The wher with her red hide and pretty pink feet and the woman with her red hair…and the girl twitched with the desire to touch and the restraint it took to hold herself back.

Finally she pulled her gaze away from the wher long enough to watch the woman, the silent little girl giving the woman a wave before her eyes fell on what was in her hands…and unintelligible pile of fabric from her vantage point, but curiosity boiled away in her. She wanted to know what she was doing, wanted to talk to her about her pretty red hair and her butifully red wher…but as always, words failed Mouse and the little girl wrinkled her nose, irritated at her own inadequacy. Why couldn’t she talk? Why couldn’t she be like all the other little girls. Tears welled in brown eyes, but through all this, Mouse was still silent.

[Chek]

Damali observed the approaching girl as she hid behind a nearby chair from beneath her eyelashes, pretending her focus was on her sewing; she recognized this one from somewhere. Where? Damask was quick with an answer, before Damali even bothered to ask her, Gennesk Shino. Little wher girl. Tolerable. Damali tapped the toe of her boot against her red’s teeth in a silent thanks.

Hmm, Mouse. She remembered now – she’d know more if the brown was one of her Priderunners, but she heard enough. Picked up with the Holdless handlers, this little one was, and not all that prone to speaking. Interesting! Damask, though, knowing when someone was admiring her, stretched hugely, hind legs kicking out, tail extending, wings flicking open on display as she yawn, showing off her mouthful of pretty white daggers. She settled again, spines along her back clicking together, and slanted a look at her admirer – how about that show?

Damali had barely saved the pieces of Shino’s costume from the red’s antics, and now she began laying them over Damask’s back once again. This time, since she was draping them instead of hanging them so she could watch her guest, it was much more obvious what the design of her project was, especially when the lumpy, misshapen pink head-hood with it’s glass bobble bead eyes was joined by a pair of pretty pink wings.

Warn, tears. Not fault/ Sure enough, a quick glance up showed watery eyes and what looked like a wobbly lip.

“Hey, hey now, this is a no tears zone. Dry those up and come pick all the dark pink pieces out of this pile for me,” the redhandler tipped her head at a basket near her feet, situated right next to Damask’s hips, that was brimming with cut out pieces of fabric in various shades of pink, “And if sitting hunched over makes your back hurt, I’m sure Damask would be alright with letting you lean against her a little, right beautiful?”

Damask made a big show of looking the girl over, before seeming to dismiss her, Look light, not bother. This, she said for Mouse to hear as well.

[Zephyr]

The red’s display dried up some of the girl’s tears. Too engulfed with joy at the sight of the massive beast, Mouse nearly forgot why she’d been so sad in the first place. This wher was so gorgeous! She just wanted to be her very best friend ever. Of course she knew that couldn’t happen. Not right now, because she’d been taught not to approach anything red. She didn’t quite understand. The word dangerous had been thrown around a lot, but Mouse hadn’t met a dangerous wher yet. They were all wonderful and friendly and they were all her very best friends.

This one didn’t seem so bad though, and her knuckles were white with the pressure of holding onto the chair as she tried to make herself not just go up and hug the red. Instead, she pressed her forehead to the chair, not really paying much attention to Damali for the moment. The woman was all very good and nice and pretty, but Damask was very, very interesting and Mouse liked looking at her.

Then the woman spoke, and the child’s gaze darted to her. Her bottom lip was still half sticking out in her earlier irritation, and she pulled it in as she considered the betahandler’s words for a moment. It was only a moment, and Mouse had pulled away from the chair and walked towards them, smiling widely as she heard the wher’s words. The basket was almost bigger than Mouse was, but the girl plopped down on the floor, half leaning against Damask’s warmth with the basket pulled up between her legs.

The little girl stared at the contents of the basket for a second, taking a moment to distinguish between the different shades of pink. She was having a hard time deciding which were the darkest pinks, but with a little look of determination – including her little tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth – she picked up one of the darker ones and held the bit of fabric up for Damali’s approval, tugging on the woman's sleeve, to see if that’s the color she wanted.

While she was looking up, her eyes fell on whatever it was the woman was working on. The child blinked. She didn’t know it was a wher Damali was piecing together, but it was something wonderful, judging by the head and the wings and it was all fabulous.

Mouse had to have one.

[Chek]

Damali scooted her foot with the unmauled boot over to make room for Mouse as the girl plopped down beside the basket, as requested. Tension eased out of Damali’s back; crying fit successfully averted. She was the best.

The tug on her sleeve dragged her from her self congratulations; she glanced at the fabric offered and nodded, “That’s the right of it.” She actually took the piece in question, laying it in place on the cape where she was working and starting to pin it down. She didn’t notice Mouse fixating on the costume, intent on what she was doing….before something occurred to her and she jerked out her hand to block Mouse from reaching deep into the basket.

She laughed, a little uncomfortably, “Let me just…take something dangerous out of here first. Everyone gets to keep more fingers that way.” She plunged her hand into the basket, quickly reaching bottom, and rooted around for a moment before she grasped a cool – though lumpy - coil. Snacky, the tunnelsnake, hissed as she emerged from the basket in Damali’s hand, a scrap of pink material and a sketched upon slate grasped in her little claws.

Damask turned her head and gently accepted the tunnelsnake with her mouth, settling Snacky between her forelegs where the angry yellow and purple creature coiled back up, her eyes gleaming hatefully at the world. The red was, though, able to extract both fabric and slate from the grip of the irritable creature, “Sorry, sorry, she hasn’t laid her latest clutch yet and it makes her grumpy, otherwise I wouldn’t worry about her biting.”

Now, though, she noticed Mouse’s fascination with the garment, pausing only for a moment before handing the slate over to the girl. On it, a rough image of Shinsk, his markings outlined in red chalk, was visible, along with a general design for the markings on the wher cape that it was obvious that Damali was in the process of building. “Damask and I adopted a weyrbrat and made her a cape so we could have an excuse – flimsy, but no one ever told us no – to take her outside with us. She Impressed, but her wher outfit took a beating, so I’m remaking it so it looks a little more like Shinsk.”