Title: GO MAKE ME A PIE [Vityai/Alex]
Description: why aren't you barefoot and pregnant
Nozomi - October 3, 2011 05:00 AM (GMT)
Since there were no crazy women running around in his kitchen (or crazy men for that matter, Vityai didn't discrimminate, he hated both equally), the pastry-loving Vityai decided, hey. Why not wake up at a God-awful hour of the morning and make something delicious and fried and filled with sugar and other horrible things that one really should not eat in the morning?
No one told him he couldn't, probably because it was too late at night for people to still be up and too early for them to start waking up, and so Vityai clambered into the kitchens to whip up aforementioned deliciousness.
Deep fried pockets of dough filled with meat happened to be the project of the not-quite-night-or-morning. Sleeves rolled up, hair pulled back into a tight bun with his hat keeping stray strands from falling out, Vityai stood over the pan, spatula in hand with each flip of the deep fried meat filled deliciousness.
Twelve went onto the little rack, and another twelve fresh-made bits of dough got tossed into the pan as well. More sizzling, and he hummed, tapped his foot, and nommed on one of the finished pastries. It burned the top of his mouth. Vityai ate it anyway.
tuathade - October 4, 2011 04:00 AM (GMT)
Alex was stuck in the kitchens. It had not been intentional. (Did anyone ever INTEND to get stuck in the kitchens?) But it had happened, nonetheless. The hybrid's growth had been explosive over the past few seasons; he had gone from the size of a large feline at the Hatching, right up to nearly the size of a full-grown runnerbeast. Only just recently was his alarming growth beginning to slow down, signalling that he was probably approaching his adult size. In the meantime, he was still getting used to this whole... 'too big to fit places' thing.
Luckily for the prototype, the main hallways of the weyr had all been designed to be large enough to permit a fully-grown wher to pass, in case of any unforeseen emergency that might require a wher team rescue. So he could traverse those with relative ease. The kitchens, though... Those had not been designed for whers. They had been designed for people. And although he'd been able to fit through the doorway going forward, now that he was in the maze of shelves, stoves, and various workstations... Well, there wasn't any room for him to turn around. Nor could he go backwards; he couldn't really see behind himself all that well, and the tips of his wings kept getting caught on things. The only thing he could do was go forward and hope he didn't run into a dead end.
A delicious smell caught his attention. (Delicious smells always caught his attention.) Was it normal for a dragonkin, engineered or not, to have a deep-seated fondness for human food? Well, normal or not, Alex had one. And - hey, there was the guy with the pastries! He'd been at the fall festival!
Alex wasn't a little hatchling anymore. He'd learned things about complex concepts like courtesy and economics. Specifically: the sizzling golden pockets of delicious meat were not his. He shouldn't just stuff the entire rack into his mouth and run. That would be... problematic. Nor did he have anything to offer in trade - except possibly the hope that he would go away. Maybe that would be a good enough trade. He padded over on silent feet, whuffed a breath of warm air onto the back of the baker's neck in greeting. You're up early. Usually there isn't anyone else around.
Nozomi - October 4, 2011 04:29 AM (GMT)
The minute hot, stinky breath hit the back of his neck and a voice that was so not a Bondmates entered his mind, Vityai screamed like a little girl. Luckily for him, the burning pastry had already been swallowed, but that only meant that his high, shrill scream of absolute fucking panic rang all the louder.
"AAAHHHHH! AHHH! AGHH--" Vityai spun around, spatula in hand, eyes wide. He blinked at the terribling, and his screams flicked into actual words, though no less a shriek. " What are you doing?!"
Perhaps not the best thing to be screaming at a large creature filled with sharp teeth and the scent of death and all things horrible on his breath, but at the very least those shrieks turned into something coherent, if somewhat rage filled. Right?
The human panted and flopped against his counter, free hand groping for a bit of edge that didn't have hot grease or baked goods on it. Few things occurred to him when seeing a large prototype of a creature that could attack dragons and eat wild whers in his kitchen, and talking shit at it was not there on the list. If he wouldn't be a dick to the stupidest wher out there, this was not going to be the time to start talking smack. He clung to the edge anyway.
"It's my kitchen this early. Why are you in my kitchen? Breathing on me." He didn't even like attractive humans breathing on him, or being that fricken' close. This was a dragonkin creature thing and. Guh. "Are you stalking me?"
He remembered you, Alex! Aren't you excited?
tuathade - October 4, 2011 04:43 AM (GMT)
Alex jerked back at the unexpected and remarkably earsplitting scream, tail lashing convulsively - aaaand there went a stack of pots. Crash bang clang clatter cast iron pots on the floor. Faranth dammit Jesus fuck! He had no room to maneuver, and the little human was attempting to threaten him with a... spatula? Oh for - Alex's hindquarters hit the ground with the kind of decisive thump that indicated he wasn't going to be shifting for anyone or anything. It was hard to tell, given the unnaturally fixed blue color of his eyes, but something about the cant of his ears and the furrow of his eyeridges looked positively affronted.
The whers have gone to sleep, the hybrid grumbled mulishly, and the dragons aren't awake yet. This is when I come out of the lab. Dawn and dusk were Alex's usual active times; his eyes could adjust to the halfway conditions between light and dark, and the relative silence of the weyr meant he didn't have to go out of his way to avoid people. Understandably, he had not precisely endeared himself to the weyr... Many of the wherhandlers were distrustful of him, likewise the dragonriders. A cannibalistic abomination of nature - they did kind of have a point.
One of the scattered pots rolled by lazily, teetering on its edge. He reached out a forepaw and snagged it neatly. I'm not stalking you, either. You just happen to be where the food is.
Nozomi - October 4, 2011 05:01 AM (GMT)
The pots and pans clattered and clanged, adding a lovely background noise to the already wonderful meeting. Vityai leaned further against the counter when the prototype sat down, even flinching involuntarily at the smacking of the pot that dared wander within Alex's range.
"The chefs have gone to sleep, and the apprentices aren't awake yet." Vityai agreed, spatula clutched to his chest, eyebrows pressed together, lips a thin line as both hybrid and cook eyed one another up. He couldn't shift back or away, so he stood there as still as he could, gaze narrowed.
"I make the food that you follow. That's kind of like stalking. Aren't you supposed to live off whers or something like that?" Apparently any conversation Vityai had with himself about not pissing off huge things with teeth and the ability to nom on him had been forgotten in the wake of Alex and the pot and the talking. "Although I can't imagine they taste too good."
A pause. Then: "No offense, I guess. Maybe it's good we don't think whers taste good." Vityai edged away, turning just enough to set the spatula down and pull the pan with the now-cooked pastry bites in them off of his stove. He stared at Alex, a frown twisting up his lips when he realized the wher-dragon creature blocked his way and had his big butt parked right there in the kitchen, keeping everything important ever locked off from Vityai and his pots.
"I need to get around you, whatever your name is."
tuathade - October 11, 2011 05:45 PM (GMT)
Alex rumbled, but somewhat sheepishly put the pot back where it came from. Then he carefully moved himself out of the way, sidling to one side before parking his haunches on the floor and curling himself into a tight ball. Rather like a cat, really. Eerie pale blue eyes followed Vityai's movements; the terrible hybrid didn't seem particularly hostile, just somewhat puzzled. At the whole situation, really. Stuck in the kitchens, hungry, trying to reason with an unreasonable baker...
I do have a name now, he remarked, though the mindvoice sounded pleased rather than resentful. This was actually a pleasant surprise! Up until recently he hadn't had a name at all, what with the lack of Impression bond. It was only thanks to the Doctor that Alex had been properly named - and while he'd been initially a little skeptical, it was convenient to not just have people calling you 'hey you' all the time. It's Alex. My name is Alex.
One foreleg lifted, and he itched idly at the heavy collar, still latched firmly around his neck as a form of insurance against bad behavior. Wher tastes all right. It's best fresh, when the ichor's still hot - but I guess humans can't really eat raw meat. Still, sometimes you jones for something else, you know? It's like... He paused, struggled for an analogy, tried to remember what he could of human culture and cuisine. Like if you ate nothing but tasty steaks every day. No matter how much you like steak, eventually you'll want to try something else.
It didn't seem to occur to him that dragons ate raw herdbeast and wherry day in and day out without any sign of interest in other fare. Perhaps that was why he was the faulty prototype, and the 'proper' hybrids were still to come... speaking of which. You were at the hatching. Do you have a dragon?
Nozomi - October 12, 2011 02:31 AM (GMT)
Oh Faranath, it talked. He talked, the creature's voice range unmistakably male in Vityai's head. Salvador's hybrid curled up far enough away for the cook to edge around as if he were some adorable sort of... weird off-worlder pet. When he moved past Alex, Vityai reached out with his free hand to idly pat at whatever part of Alex he could reach.
"Did you just say 'jones'?" An almost smirk, not cruelly intended, and another pat, an offhanded scritch, and then Vityai moved to grab another plate for the pastries. "Okay, Alex. Tell you what. Bring me a side of wher at some point and I'll make you wher pastries or something. You can 'jones' to your hearts content."
Once more past Alex and Vityai right back to those pastries, almost done in the pan since he hadn't started shrieking again out of nowhere. A flip with the spatula, usually stern expression far more relaxed then usual. This early in the morning, he had no one he needed to boss around because it was just him and a beast with a hide and no thumbs. Nobody did their job wrong when it was just him and the Thumbless Wonder, and they talked about cooking, and steaks, and Vityai rather liked steaks, for whatever it was worth.
He plucked two pastries from the previous batch and put them on that newly grabbed plate, eyes hooded. "Dragon? No. I don't think I'll be Impressing. There's a wher clutch, thinking about harassing that. Or not. I'm a night person, but I like my kitchens."
Yes. His kitchens. And his plate too, at least until he held it and the two containing pastries out to Alex.
"Why'd you try to eat that hatchling?"
tuathade - October 12, 2011 03:46 PM (GMT)
Alex did not object to Vityai's idle scritches. Quite the opposite, he leaned into the petting slightly, with a croon so far into the bass notes it was almost a purr, eyes half-lidded. I spend most of my time with offworlders. Eventually you pick up the slang. R'ley, Sh'ard and Normandith had not given him any trouble since shortly after the Hatching, but that was mostly because he gave them no reason to. The hybrid walked a delicate line and stayed out of the way of golds and silvers who could order him around.
And then Vityai offered him a pastry and good baker, best friend. He carefully snagged one off the plate, leaving the other for Vityai, and nommed happily as Vityai asked his question. It was a serious question, and Alex gave it the level of consideration that it deserved as he chewed on the pastry. (Delicious, delicious pastry. Mmmmm.)
It's complicated, he admitted, and hard to explain to someone without a hunting instinct. Intelligent or no, he was a creature with a brain more like a wher's than like a human's, and certain things did not necessarily translate well. I wasn't trying to eat it. But I'd never seen a dragon hatching before. Usually with whers, I can sense whether or not they're bonded, and unbonded means dangerous. Likewise dragons - up until they Impress, they're a possible threat. Like that blue and that green. Clearly, whatever other oddities Alex might possess, he had a wher's memory rather than the limited span of a dragon, able to recall the events of the Hatching with ease. I was aiming to stop that - Medusath? is that her name? - before she killed anyone. But she Impressed before I got there, and then that other blue... He shifted his wings in a draconic imitation of a shrug. It was dark. My thermal vision isn't as accurate at discerning detail, and everything was happening too quickly. I moved without thinking.
It was not precisely an apology. But likely it was as close as the hybrid was going to come to one. Almost a non sequitur, he added, Don't bother with the wher clutch.
Nozomi - October 13, 2011 03:58 AM (GMT)
Everything Alex said made sense: whers were wild and unpredictable even when bonded, who knew the difference between an unbonded baby dragon and unbonded wher? Vityai sure as shards didn't, nor did he really feel like being able to feel the emotions of the babies running utterly rampant. He already dealt with babies at the hatching - right down to the scar on his thigh and arm and the horror of falling on his ass in front of everyone.
At least Nelcess Impressed. It hadn't saved Vityai from humoring him, but the Impression was good. It kept Nel happy. Or something.
Vityai took the second pastry and took a big bite of it, chewing contemplatively as Alex explained his point of view on it. "You were scary." He sounded a bit muffled around the pastry, swallowing before he spoke again. "This big shape out of nowhere in the blackness, grabbing a freaking out baby. It's good they decided not to hurt you anymore."
His hand moved to touch the shock collar, pastry-flecked mouth twisted down. "Don't bother?" Vityai stepped back and away from Alex, a stiffness pulling him out of his relaxed almost-hunch and his face a mask. No dragons in sight to Impress to and the wher-killer didn't even think Vityai good enough for the sharding things he ate? Insult to injury, salt on the 'I fed you' wound, Vityai tilted his chin up another notch.
"There's nothing wrong with me. Why wouldn't she accept me to take an egg?" Slightly offended? Feelings hurt? Check and check. All by some big dragon-biting, pastry-wanting creature he'd just had a decent conversation with. Vityai bit down on his tongue to keep from being any more defensive then he already was, jaw tightening.
tuathade - October 14, 2011 12:23 AM (GMT)
I didn't mean to be scary, Alex said simply. I was trying to protect you.
Vityai was not the only one scarred at the Hatching. Corvis, Vartan, Kaskirk, Skylar... The list went on. There had been plenty of blood on the sands that night. Infant dragonkin of any kind were unpredictable up until their moment of bonding; he hadn't understood, at the time, the difference between acceptable injuries and culling a dangerous element. Dragons, it seemed, were considered more valuable by the weyr at large - or perhaps they simply self-policed problem behavior to some extent by betweening if they were too unstable to Impress. Regardless, it was not a mistake he would be repeating... even if he was ever allowed to attend a Hatching again, which seemed unlikely.
The croon died away somewhat as Vityai reached out to the collar. (Alex was a little leery of people touching the thing that could cause him considerable pain, even if Vityai wasn't holding a remote.) The sound stopped entirely as the baker stiffened and pulled back. What had he said wrong?
Of course there's nothing wrong with you, Alex agreed, puzzled. That's why you shouldn't go. Why would you want a wher? Those bitches will cut you. Literally. They cut you and feed your blood to a baby wher. And then they're just big and clumsy and grumpy and terrible conversationalists, and they'll mess up your kitchen.
Prejudiced against whers? Absolutely. In his mind, Impressing a wher was somewhat like Impressing a big angry carnivorous psychic herdbeast - why the fuck would you bother. The terribling huffed, cleaning the last few flecks of pastry off his muzzle. There are much better things in the lab. Go talk to Salvador - tell him I sent you.