Polite Conversation
A S.P.I.T Ficlet

Rating: R
Category: Original Fiction
Pairing(s): The usual suspects.
Warnings: No food, no drink, and some anti-squick pills may be in order as well…
Summary: Some days it just doesn’t pay to open your mouth.
Notes: Set after Wess’ return and Recalling.

Infamous Keeper stalked into the grand dining hall where the Court of Hercandoloff were currently having lunch. He marched up to his husband and thrust a letter beneath his nose.

“Can you believe this?” he asked.

Arrowsmith, who had been anticipating shellfish in butter with fried mushrooms and not parchment, closed his mouth and lowered his fork. He took the letter from his irate husband and opened it.

“Well it seems perfectly reasonable to me,” said Arrowsmith. “It says Sjaan can’t meet you later for dinner because he will be busy.”

Infamous sat down beside Arrowsmith and began helping himself to some of the roast pheasant. “It says he can’t meet me because he is breeding his female Dragonhawk,” he snapped.

The Moonhound raised her head. “Sjaan’s breeding Spooky? Who to?”

“Lady Rain’s Dragonhawk, Southern Lord.”

Misty winced. “Great. Spooky has the personality of a rabid weasel and Lord has all the brains of a mollusc.”

“He has beautiful lines, though,” said Monshikka. “He’s a gorgeous animal. They’re both uncommonly lovely. The offspring will be stunning. Assuming they do not inherit their parents’ charming personalities.” He looked at Wess, who had his nose in his book, pipe in one hand, his long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, his glasses halfway down his nose. Monshikka smiled at him affectionately. “Right, dear?”

“Hmm?”

Arrowsmith leaned forward to peer at the title of the book Wess held. “‘Geological formations of the North Palaklais.’ Yeesh.”

“It’s fascinating,” mumbled Wess.

“Yeah I bet,” said Arrowsmith, rolling his eyes.

“The point is, if I may gather your wandering attention,” said Infamous, “If he does not want to come visit me he should be able to come up with a better excuse than ‘I am breeding my Dragonhawk’. That’s right up there with ‘I have to wash my hair’. He could at least make an effort to be believable, I mean how long can it take to breed two animals?”

“Well, actually,” said Monshikka, helping himself to some more mushrooms, “Dragonhawks can take a surprisingly long time to mate.”

“Really?” said Blackbird, looking interested. “Usually animals try to be quick about it, so not to be caught in a compromising position.”

“With most animals that is very true,” said Monshikka. “But Dragonhawks are the apex of all apex predators. They can afford to take their time, and they usually do because it’s not an easy thing for them to accomplish. For one thing the male has to sweet talk the female into lying on her back because he wants her wing-blades as far away from him as possible. They are not immune to their own considerable weaponry. And even with the wing-blades away from his head he still has to deal with her claws, tail-blades and head-crest.”

“Sounds like a dicey undertaking for both of them,” said Arrowsmith.

“Well there is no such thing as rape with Dragonhawks, I can assure you,” said Monshikka. “One jab with that head-crest and he’s done for, she can stab straight through every bone and major organ he has. And then once he has the lady’s consent it’s still an ordeal because once they start they really can’t stop.”

Wess set down his cold pipe to pick up a fork and stab a piece of fish, shoving it into his mouth, paying no heed to the topic of conversation. Chewing his fish, he continued to read his book.

“What do you mean they can’t stop?” asked Misty.

Monshikka reached for the teapot to fill his cup, his long, elegant white hands like an extension of the graceful porcelain item.

“Well, once he has penetrated her, these large fleshy nodules emerge on his penis and sort of lock him into place, as it were. Their chief function is to stimulate her into ovulation, but in order to do that he has to perform for rather a long time. Three hours is usual but they can go for up to nine. And ejaculation with these beasts is no joke either, he can take up to forty-five minutes to complete an orgasm and lose over two litres of fluid doing it. Then once they finally finish and separate someone has to be on hand to make certain the female doesn’t decide the male looks like a nice post-coital snack. It’s rare but it does happen. So I’m not surprised Sjaan can’t make it for dinner. Depending on when Spooky decides to accept her suitor’s advances, Sjaan could be out there until midnight, and I doubt very much Lady Rain would be amused to have her prized steed reduced to canapés.”

Monshikka sipped his tea. Wess continued to read. The other members of the Court began to exchange puzzled glances, and a question seemed to hang silently in the air. Then Misty cleared his throat and leaned forward, resting his folded arms on the table, an enormous and uncontrollable grin on his face.

“So… Monshikka…”

“Yes?”

“Is this… extensive and rather intimate understanding of the mechanics of Dragonhawk mating in any way related to those really big claw marks on the desk up on the second level of the Forbidden Library, and the missing area rug that used to rest on the floor right before it?”

Monshikka’s teacup dropped to the table, shattering, splashing golden fluid everywhere. His crystal pink eyes grew huge, and, if it was at all possible, his albino skin became more pale than was customary even for him. Beside him, Wess turned a page, eyes fixed on his book. The room was silent. Infamous leaned forward, grinning like a shark.

“Wess?”

“Hmm? Oh, the rug and the desk? Yes that was us. Sorry.”

Monshikka went from white to crimson. He slowly rose from his chair and beat a dignified but hasty retreat, his hands over his face. He slipped out of the dining hall and was gone. The room he vacated was utterly silent. After a moment, Wess’ preoccupied brain seemed to grasp that something had happened, and he raised his head, looking around. He blinked, brown eyes large behind his glasses, and he suddenly realized what had occurred.

“Oh, bugger, I’m sleeping on the floor tonight, aren’t I?”

“Better go after him,” said Misty.

Wess did, leaving the book on the table as he rose from his seat and followed after his beloved husband. Blue toyed with his napkin, clearly uncomfortable. Finally he folded it and tossed it onto the table.

“Well! Now that we all know far more about Wess and Monshikka’s private life than we ever wanted to, I think I shall go find a large container of bleach and submerge my entire head in it to get rid of the images. Excuse me.”

“I’ll join you,” said Misty.

One by one, various members of the Court departed, until only Blackbird and The Moonhound remained. She propped her elbow on the table, resting her chin in her hand as she grinned wickedly at her diminutive husband.

“So can you turn into a Dragonhawk?”

Blackbird picked up a glass of wine and sipped it. “Not yet I can’t, but give me a week.”

Disclaimer:

All original fiction and the characters, places and situations with them are copyright Alyx Shaw, and may not be published, copied, distributed or archived without the author's prior written consent.

The characters, places and situations described in these stories are fictional unless otherwise stated in the story headings.

(C) 2008 Alyx Shaw