#anywhere

Handfuls of whipped cream and delighted chimes! A wobbly head follows the motion of nevers zipping overhead, opening his mouth if they get close. Not to snap, but more in a pleading motion.

Sooner than expected, Marigold is back with a tray.

"I'm not so certain about Skittles, mind you, good enough for those flutternoggins but let's see if any of this does well for our wee lad."

A small carafe of rich, yellowish liquid, some scraps of meat and fish, and some little round balls on the tray, along with a dropper, and a small pair of fine-ended tongs,, practically tweezers but with long handles, the ones Marigold uses for arranging edible flower petals on desserts.

"Seemed a bit too much sugar for a dragon, yeah."

"The Nevers basically are flying cotton candy - at least their brains are fluff - so they don't need much substance."

"In the jar is goats milk, warmed and with extra butter added to enrich it, that's what we use for the pups. This here is raw chicken and fish. And the last are something we made for a starling fledgling that Bluebell brought in once. They're cooked oat and egg yolk, kept the little peeper going until it could eat whole bugs."

"Nice!"

She fills the dropper with the liquid, trying to offer that one first.

The pink mouth gapes, and sputters, snapping and splashing at the first few drops. His mouth snaps a few times, and a red tongue flicks out over his muzzle. Open again, and he SHRIEKS for more!

"Wouldn't you know it, greedy little thing." Marigold chuckles approvingly. "Has an appetite, that's a good sign."

Another careful drop. "Totally, especially since his egg was in Blaine's office."

"Imagine how tough he has to be to make it through that cold?"

"Oh, da'an bless it, you didn't go in there, did you?!" Marigold is aghast.

The maw latches onto the dropped and holds tight! No teeth, it forms a seal around the glass and tries to suckle. When the dropper is empty, it creels again, piteously. Mother cares not for us. Mother starves us!

She nods. "We needed to get some of the pieces Blaine had taken for the art project."

"There was a Nervosa."

"Greedy little pig." More milk!

Marigold goes white as a sheet and sputters. She tries to say something, but finally just says. "Well, I'll be!" And turns to return to the kitchen, the sound of dishes clattering.

Almost half of the cream pitcher is emptied before Fornax finally releases the dropper and settles back, now awkward as he tries to curl, but his stomach is roundly distended with the spoils of his meal. Satisfied, and quiet for once.

A snerk. "Lookit you."

After a short time, Marigold returns, and shoves a platter with sandwiches on it towards Thistle. "Eat, you're skin and bones. I'm not feeding the fowl and starving the farmer, after all."

"Oh, okay!" The dragon is tucked into her shirt pocket before she takes a sandwich.

"Art predicted this, you know. Had a vision about a furnace and Blaine and a dragon, even if we didn't figure it all out until after."

"I know better than to say boo to you, a wilder will do what she must, but... oh, just be careful, dear? I don't want to lose any of my little chickies."

Fornax is barely even noticeable as a sag in her pocket - but he does feel a bit heavier than yesterday. Perhaps just from the meal.

"Well... I sure wasn't gonna let Art go near that room."

"Oh?" She gives the wilder a calculating look.

"Gwen took out the Nervosa. For as much as a marshmallow as she is, personality-wise..."

"Well, Blaine is cold. Really cold, it hurts to be near him. And sidhe are more delicate about that, right?"

"What if Art got hurt?"

"That would be terrible, wouldn't it. But what if you got hurt? That would hurt Art too, wouldn't it, lamb?"

"Um." She frowns at the sandwich. "I dunno. Maybe."

"He can be kind of... like, he doesn't always have the best confidence in himself?"

"So I'm safe to be around, I think."

"Ah, I see. Because of all the things we've learnt about our Arty, 'staying safe' is high on his priority list." She says, amused.

A snort, but that gets a grin.

"He's an idiot." Fondly.

"So what are you plans with that wee one? Oh, the dracling, not Art. Art, I swear has put on half a foot this year." She shakes her head. "I need to get that boy out of his pants."

It takes a moment, before she clarifies, "He looks like he expects a flood to come in, I can tailor them a bit with some extra material."

"His mom probably doesn't even notice he needs new clothes, and he won't ask." Bluntly.

"As for Fornax... I dunno. How big do dragons get?"

"His mom has four other demanding fellows in the house, and one poor lady only has so much to give." Marigold says, not unkindly. "I am sure she does the best she can with the hand she was dealt, and we're blessed with the wherewithal to make up the rest."

"Yeah. I'm sure he'll appreciate the help. He IS getting taller. He's taller than me, now."

As to the dragon question, Marigold chuckles. "I saw one, once, playing chess in a garden. I say in a garden, but in sooth, the Dragon took up MOST of the Garden, and my understanding was that was only a mid-sized representative."

"So... wow, yeah, that could be an issue."

"But for now, it's just a wee nipper. Don't go chasing problems that you don't have yet." She smiles. "Where are you keeping him? In your studio?"

"Uh-huh. Warm freehold sounded like a good idea? Muppet guarded him."

"He's a good 'un, that pooch of yours. Not a shedding mountain like my girl's Ivan."

"Is your landlord giving you any guff about having him over? Or your mother? We can speak with them, you know."

"About Muppet. Not sure if we can negotiate a dragon with Mr. Carolos. He might raise the rent." She smiles, laugh lines crinkling her eyes.

"Mom's not sure about the idea of a dog..."

"She'll come around. After all, he's a good boy, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he's alright."