teenyoda | Eachdraidh IC Inbox

[He'd get bored if people didn't come barging into his life. And he'd feel useless. This at least makes him feel like he's doing something.

When a light blue steam starts to waft from the bottle, he blows out the candle. Stoppering it, he shakes it up a bit before moving to uncap it and pour the contents into vials he has set up. He fills each to the top, then looks in and sees enough for another dose.]

Should I put this in something? Milk? I might have milk. I can call for milk. There should be a pixie around here somewhere. Pixie? Pixie!

Milk would serve.

[Jon cranes his head around trying to figure out who exactly Stiles is calling to without jostling the pup overly much.]

Why've you got a pixie holed up in here with you?

I don't. Not intentionally. But there's usually one or two flying things in here fussing with my stuff, so I figu-- hey. There you are.

[He dumped a small body out of a bowl he picked up, nudging it and waking it. It yawned sleepily and gave him a look.]

Since you're here without me wanting you here, how about you make yourself useful. I need some milk for this potion [The potion he waggled at it.] so the wolf over there can get healed.

[After a languid stretch that might have involved a rude gesture or two (and some inappropriate scratching), the pixie lifted up in a blur of wings and flew over to Jon and the wolf pup. Male, it wore a kilt-like skirt and had a tiny sword. And a hat. And that's about it.]

Don't gawk. Go be useful.

[The kilt was lifted to show a tiny pale rump aimed at Stiles before it flew off out the door.]

Stupid pixies.

[Jon chokes out a half-laugh at the display, torn between being amused and offended. He'd never quite inspired such gestures from then, being rather more polite than Stiles on the whole.] Might be they'd fit in fine at the Wall, these fairies.

Probably. The guy ones are worse than the girls, but the girls... keep trying to peek when I change. Pervy little mmrmrmfmm...

[The rest was lost to mutterings as he started to clean up from his potion making.]

I don't have any pizza, but I've got cookies if you want one.

[He lifted up a lid that covered a plate of cookies (the only way he could keep any without having them all go 'missing')

[No pizza??? Wtf Stiles, Jon trusted you.]

Maybe they're only trying to help you change.

[That's what handmaidens do. Not that Jon ever had one, but Sansa used to, and besides people are much less shy about random nudity in the Seven "what are pajamas?" Kingdoms. He still (carefully) reaches for a cookie, though. Because mmm, cookies.]

Giggling doesn't help me change.

[So much line facing. How was he supposed to get changed with eyes watching him? Guess who changed under the blankets now?]

So how come you got stuck with wolfsitting duty?

She was a boon I think, delivered just this morning... but the Lady Meera, who asked for her, is not in the castle at the moment. [She's out doing dangerous things, gods help her.] I would make a poor "wolfsitter" if I delivered her new pup to her with a limp.

How'd it get mangled?

[Huh. They were giving out things like that as boons? He wondered if they might do the same with dragons. The queen had mentioned having dragon eggs...]

[STILES NO you are the last person who should have a live dragon omfg.]

Hunted, it seems. I did not have much luck finding out by what, or whom.

At least it was not once a man. [He's heard the story behind Arya's pet cat, and other pets who have been given as boons. The idea is disturbing.]

[Shut up, Jon. Let him live his dreams. DRAGON DREAMS!!!]

Pff, not much of a man if that's the result.

[There was a noise outside the door before it pushed open, three pixies helping to carry in a bowl of milk. It sloshed over the sides, making a mess before they managed to put it on the table.]

Thanks. Now go away.

[The pixie that had originally been in his room gave him another rude gesture and looked as if he might try peeing in the milk. Stiles swatted him away.]

Hey, it's not for me, you ass. It's for the puppy. God, you are so gross. Go find something to hump or something.

[Jon watches them go with both eyebrows threatening to disappear up into his hairline.]

You certainly have a way with them.

[He finally gets up, and brings the pup over to the table with the milk.]

How long should we wait?

The milk will cool it down enough.

[He dumped the rest of the bottle in and grabbed a wooden spatula type thing to stir it up with.]

And those guys are jerks. Seriously. It's like... Jackson. In pixie form. The girls are nicer, but just as pervy. Wait until you come upon a knot of them all... doing stuff. It's not pretty.

[Jon wrinkles his nose. He hasn't noticed, but it's possible he just wasn't... paying attention. He's sorta got this blindspot about anybody finding him attractive until they are literally screaming it in his face.]

Who is Jackson, then?

[Other than someone who, based on context clues, occasionally moons Stiles and pees in his milk.]

Jackson's an asshole. Not quite Peter level, but he's up there.

[No, he doesn't moon Stiles or pee in his milk, but he does murder people via mind control and Stiles got way too close to his junk trying to put his pants on one time because he was naked and unconscious. It wasn't pretty. He hates his life.]

Here. Will she drink it or do you need a cloth?

Well. I suppose I'm not without men that annoy me as well.

[And by "annoy me" he means "attempt to have me hanged or otherwise killed every now and again," but you know. To-may-to, to-mah-to.

He sets the little thing down on the table just over the bowl of half-spilled milk.]

We could see if she'll drink it from the bowl, and if not, I'll use some cloth.

Okay. You go nuts with that, wolf-whisperer. Hey, is Ghost jealous you've got a cute younger model?

[He grinned as he moved back to give the wolf cub and the man more room, closing up his books and going to put them back so they wouldn't get milk, or worse, all over them.]

Might be he is. [He feels like just half of a man, almost. Since Reynard, since they'd shared their senses on purpose, Ghost hasn't been but a dozen yards from his side, and now... He's gone much farther. Jon can't tell much, but he can tell that.] He took off this morning - to hunt, maybe. I've not seen him since. [And right after he got his own boon, telling him he might warg with multiple wolves at once now. Honestly, the damned creature had better come back soon.]

You should get him his own pizza. He might be a wolf, but he's a boy wolf. We're easy to please. Food and affection and we're yours. Well, not yours, but you get my meaning.

[Jon laughs, as the direwolf pup thankfully begins to lap up the milk with no aid necessary.]

If that were the truth of it, being Lord Commander would be nowhere near so awful a headache. [He plucks another cookie off the plate without asking, thanks bud.] Though food, the Wall won't have for long, at the rate we were going.

[Help yourself, bro. Just don't take the last one. Jerk.]

See, if you just gave all your little under-commanderlings a little pat on the head or butt or whatever you guys do on 'The Wall' and some nachos and pizza? You'd win whatever war you have out of them just wanting more of what you got. Totally true.

[No promises, bro.]

Half of them want me dead, I scarcely think patting their heads or their arses would do me much good. [Pizza might have some merit, though... don't mind Jon just mentally filing that away for later.]

[He will totally fight you for the last cookie. Don't even go there.]

You never know. You'd be surprised at how easily we're manipulated. We're men. We're not that complicated.

Might be you are, but I'm not.

[You know nothing, Jon Snow.]

[Stiles just looked at Jon, then grinned and shook his head, lifting a hand to clap him on the back.]

Sure you're not, buddy. Sure you're not.

[He so was.]

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