Are You Mated Yet?

Dinner reminded Sera of eating in a high-school cafeteria. The food was significantly better in both quality and nutrition value, of course, and the diners shuffled along either side of the tables with pearl-inlaid wooden trays and china plates instead of plastic, but once they made their selections they moved off to settle at one of a dozen rectangular tables arranged in rows. The tables might have table cloths and silverware laid out, with chairs instead of benches, but the layout and the way the groups gathered . . . that was exactly like high school.

The popular kids--Brother Forty-Three and his companions--had one of the tables nearest the window. The other table held the 'rich kids', in this case the most important family members. More distant family members gathered at the middle tables in smaller groups, often with a chair or two left between them. Non-family and those in disgrace were relegated to the tables closest to the buffet. Lady Snowpearl roamed between the tables checking in with each group. Some groups welcomed her cheerfully. With others the conversation turned silent and awkward, just as if she was a supervising teacher or principle.

Surprisingly, Sunflower aimed for a less populated table near the buffet. Six, mid-way through a story about one of her younger siblings, followed behind and settled beside the elderly woman without any thought about where she should sit. The others at the table nodded a greeting, and a few gave Six puzzled glances, but no one commented on her presence.

As the meal progressed, Sunflower continued to ask Six questions, drawing the rest of the table into the conversation before long. Everyone was curious about Six, most likely because of her potential marriage to Brother Forty-Three. No one outright asked why she was not sitting with the monk, but more than a few glances were darted over in his direction.

Usually when Six herself glanced over at him. Sera doubted the young woman had any idea just how often she did it, as she was doing her best to pay attention to her tablemates and answer their flurry of questions. Brother Forty-Three, for his part, was doing a poor job of paying attention to his companions, instead staring at Six. Every time Six glanced at him he would hastily look away and focus on his neighbors, but Sera felt his gaze return the moment Six's attention was pulled back to someone at her own table.

'Am I doing something wrong?' Six asked silently, as she paused to chew something sweet and sticky that tasted very similar to caramel.

'Not that I'm aware of. You seem to have charmed everyone at the table,' answered Sera. Six's cheeks pinked slightly and she lowered her attention to her plate.

'But Three is watching me,' Six said.

'I know. I have a bet with myself on how long it will be before he gets up and comes over to our table,' Sera said with amusement.

'Why would he do that?'

But the man on Six's right derailed the internal conversation by asking, "Miss Six, are you mated yet?"

The pink-haired woman across the table choked on her drink and started giggling hysterically when she recovered. The man on the right looked at her in bewilderment, asking, "What is so funny Hy?"

The pink haired woman just waved as she tried to get her laughter under control. A bald purple-skinned man at her side rolled his eyes and said, "Please forgive Rain, Miss Six. His brain is filled up with complicated things that the rest of us don't understand has no room left for ordinary things like a list of questions that you Don't Ask People You've Just Met."

The last was directed at the man to Six's right, with a glare. That man just blinked, still bewildered, and asked, "Why not?"

"Because it's rude, idiot," the purple man answered.

"But how are we supposed to find out if we don't ask?" Rain wanted to know.

This question gave the purple man pause. "Err, well . . . normally you'd ask someone else, but . . . "

Rain frowned. "I thought it was rude to gossip about people behind their back."

"Um, well, yes, but this is different," the purple man said, eyes widening as he discovered he'd blundered into a conceptual pitfall.

"But--"

"I'm not mated," Six interrupted, with a gentle smile for Rain. She gestured at herself. "I mean, look at me."

Rain tilted his head to the side and eyed her with a thoughtful frown. Despite having invited the scrutiny, Six was not expecting to receive it and blushed. And though she had not been seeking his approval, a flash of disappointment went through her as the man shook his head, still frowning.

"I see no imperfections or genetic flaws that would make you unacceptable breeding stock," Rain said, and Six looked at him in surprise. That was not what she'd expected him to say. His glance flicked to Six's splinted wing and his expression lightened, "Oh, unless your bones are unusually brittle? That would not be a good trait to pass on, I admit. Is that it?"

Several of the tables occupants were attempting to hide amusement behind coughs or hasty bites of food. The man across from Rain rolled his eyes.

"Miss Six is referring to her unusual coloration, I believe," he said, winking at Six. Who stared at him, even more confused by the wink than by Rain's assessment.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Rain asked turning back to stare intently at Six again. His brow wrinkled in thought. "I suppose you must be more susceptible to sunburn, but that's not a particularly significant flaw. On balance, I doubt it is relevant."

"It isn't pretty," Six explained.

Again Rain studied her, and after a moment shook his head again. "I disagree. And as I said, it's irrelevant. 'Pretty' is a subjective concept. And also it has nothing to do with ability of the offspring to survive, therefore it has nothing to do with whether you have the potential to be mated."

"Not entirely true, Rain," interjected a thin-faced woman with bright copper hair, chocolate colored skin, and glasses. "I think you will find that attractive children have an edge on survival. Attractive children are more likely to receive the attention of their caregivers and the favor of outsiders. Therefore 'pretty' is an evolutionary advantage."

Her neighbor leaned over to whisper something to her, and chagrin flashed across her features. She turned her gaze to Six. "I'm reminded that I should also point out that Rain is correct that attractiveness IS subjective, and while local preference is for deep coloration, in other parts of the world the preference is for fair skin such as yours."

"Personally, it is a person's character that determines attractiveness to me," declared another of the table's occupants with a superior air.

"Oh, so what aspect of Autumwind's character is represented in her bustline?"

Blushing furiously, the superior man said with as much dignity as possible, "Her boundless heart, of course."

And the table dissolved into laughter.

"It seems I missed something funny," Brother Forty Three observed, and the table fell silent. If the monk noticed, he gave no sign, all his attention on Six as he asked, "Everyone is being polite, to you, I hope?"

"Of course," Six said stiffly.

"Aunt Sunny can be a bit much sometimes, but she means well," Brother Forty-Three said. Six smiled over at Sunflower.

"Madame Sunflower and I are getting along just fine, thank you," she said. When she looked back at the monk he was frowning.

"She's not pestering you with questions."

"No," Six answered. Brother Forty-Three's frowned deepened. Six drew in a breath and asked coolly, "Is there something you wanted, Brother Forty-Three?"

Irritation flashed across the man's features. He drew in a breath to speak but apparently thought better of it because he simply shook his head.

'What do I do now?' Six asked silently.

'Tell him to go away?' Sera suggested.

'I can't do that. He'll think I'm angry with him,' Six replied.

'Aren't you?'

Six had no answer to that. So she turned towards the man who'd brought up the subject of character and said determinedly, "I agree with you, Master Greenearth. Character is very important. But it's been my experience that it is not the first thing that determines attraction."

The woman with glasses nodded in agreement. "I must agree. And also add that people often judge character more harshly for those who are perceived as less attractive. And more gently for those who are pretty. Take Master Oak--err, never mind."

She glanced towards Brother Forty-Three, who was still looming over the table and winced, then determinedly focused her attention on her plate and the tiny bit of food remaining.

"Go away, Obie," Sunflower instructed. "We cannot talk about you behind your back when you are glowering down at us."

Brother Forty-Three glared at the old woman, collected a chair from the neighboring table, and put it down at the end of the table.

"Oh lovely, he's not leaving," muttered the pink-haired woman across the table. Hy? Was that her name?

Rain leaned out to peer between the woman with glasses and Brother Forty-Three a few times, before he said, "I believe your point was that Master Oakbranch has been treated with more favor than say . . . umm . . . Master Berrybright?"

With a pained expression, the woman with glasses nodded.

"That's not true," Brother Forty-Three said. The pink-haired woman across from Six snorted, which earned her a glare.

Unlike the woman with the glasses, she met the monk's gaze defiantly. "I can think of at least a dozen cases where you flashed that smile of yours at someone and weaseled out of punishment, when anyone else who did the same thing would have had their hide tanned."

"Name one," Brother Forty-Three challenged.

"The bell tower," the pink-haired woman returned.

"The puppy," said someone else.

"The whole of tenth form, when you were late every day."

"Ty's wedding."

"The cake at Lady Snowpearls third wedding."

"Uncle Beryl's funeral."

"That crack about Lady Whitehart's nose."

"The crashed aircar."

"Oooh, oooh, the Blue Drawing Room!"

That got a moment of appreciative silence, as everyone around the table nodded. Then Aunt Sunny contributed, "My father's portrait."

Another flurry of incidents were named. Brother Forty-Three deflated. When there was a lull, he interjected, "Alright, alright. I was a horrible child. Point taken."

"But very cute," someone observed.

"Hmm, maybe I should research this concept more thoroughly," Rain mused, gazing absently off into space. "It would make an interesting paper . . . ."

"I think we have had enough of this subject," Sunflower decreed. She looked around the table and announced, "Our Six has asked for something useful to do while she is with us. Who has suggestions?"

The table was silent as everyone considered this challenge, then Rain ventured, "She could assist me with my research."

The pink-haired woman snorted. "I think not. We what her to stay, not die of boredom. You could help me in the gardens."

"Bad idea, she's healing. What about the spring inventory? We always need help with that," came a third suggestion.

"I would like to help in the gardens," Six contributed.

"No, you're still healing," the same man insisted. "The inventory—"

"Is very, very tedious," the pink-haired woman retorted.

"She could help with—"

"If you say the school, I will smack you. Those hellions will take one look at that wing and run roughshod over her."

And the debate continued, requiring very little input from Six and resolving nothing. Another woman might have been insulted by how little consideration was given to her opinion, but Sera noted that Six was pleased that these people had welcomed her and were so eager to find her a place among them. She finished her meal in happy silence.