Disclaimer: Borrowing for sandbox privileges only.

Notes: Silly little bit of story I found lurking on my laptop, apparently having neglected to put it anywhere public. Huh. So, people who I know need a giggle (Cat McD and Jaelle, this means YOU), this one's on your behalf!

Why We Don't Try And Dye Our Companions Green.

As far as I can ascertain, the idea originally occurred to my Chosen as something of a thought exercise. Hari has a… busy… imagination, one that is prone to run off and cook up mischief if left to its own devices.

Unfortunately for myself, putting Hari anywhere in a position to do chores counts as 'left to its own devices'.

Hence my current predicament.

I sigh, twitch my tail from side to side and peer upwards into the canopy of the rather large tree I am standing under. :You're going to have to come down eventually, Hari.:

Muffled, "… no I'm not."

:Yes you are,: I make the mental equivalent of a cleared throat sound. :If for no other reason than you will have to relieve yourself at some point.:

"… don't have to get out of the tree to do that…"

I blink, assess my position relative to my tree-top Chosen, and quietly sidle three steps to my left. :Well, to mix the metaphor; what goes out has to come in at some point.:

A rustling from the heavily leaved branches and I catch sight of a half-curious face. "What?"

:You have to eat at some point, Hari,: I point out, :and drink as well, come to that.:

"Oh…" Nothing more seems forthcoming.

:They're not that angry, honestly. You managed to miss Dadero, at least.:

Silence from above.

I should probably take this juncture to explain somewhat; Hari and his imagination have gained— in the year since I Chose him in the middle of a play at the theatre his parents have a share in— a reputation that benefits most from being described as 'notorious'.

Two weeks after he arrived at Heraldic Collegium, Hari spent one busy night inverting all of the maps in the Collegium classrooms. A month after that, he was embroiled in an incident involving several high-born Blues, two low-born Blues and a surprisingly large amount of mud. Starting as he obviously meant to go on, Hari's life at the Palace-Collegium so far has been punctuated by a wide range of events and pranks; often surprising, seldom expected and occasionally even baffling.

Which brings me to the reason that my Chosen is currently living a life arboreal.

A few weeks ago, Hari and his year-mates were having lessoning with the animal-Healer trainees; primarily on some basic biology and how that relates to both first aid and survival. It was during this lesson that one of the Healers happened to mention that some animals owe their colouration partly to the contents of their diet; certain birds that live on the shores of Lake Evendim, for example.

This thought obviously sat and stewed in the back of Hari's mind until, under the pressure of having a large pile of hard-worn trainee Greys to mend, it metamorphosed into an idea for an experiment. After using his silver tongue to gain the support and aid of several of his friends; most notably Hiril, a Healer trainee, and Silverhawk, a student at the Mage's Collegium, Hari began to hatch his plan.

I'm not entirely sure how they managed to make the resultant powder they came up with odourless and tasteless; nor do I wish to speculate just how they managed to sneak the large bag of it past the Stable grooms in order to mix it into a bin of dry feed.

What I am sure of, however, is that what they cooked up between them was effective. I can say this with authority because I am currently a rather startling shade of green. From nose to tail.

So are roughly two thirds of the resident Companions in the Field.

It happened overnight— last night, in fact, and ever since first thing this morning, Hari has been firmly up his tree and refusing to come down.

Silverhawk and Hiril have been roasted over by any number of irate teachers and Heralds, and are now confined to their rooms until such time as all of the Companions in the Field are white once more, but Hari was too quick to be caught.

I have to admit to shouting at him earlier on today; one is not at one's best when one wakes up to discover that everyone within one's eyesight has turned emerald overnight. One is even less at one's best when one looks in a water trough and discovers that oneself is also emerald, and, consequently one screeches at one's Chosen. Loudly.

However, now I have calmed down, and am trying to coax Hari down out of the tree sometime this century.

:Hari, please come down out of the tree.:

"…no."

Unfortunately, the longer that Hari stays up the tree, the more… testy… the Dean of Heraldic Collegium is likely to get; partly because his Dinis is pretty much illuminating everything in her vicinity with the shade of her coat, she is not impressed and she has been letting the Dean know about it. Eloquently.

I try again. :Look; the Groveborn and the Queen's Companion, as well as about thirty of the others are still… normal… and the mages have determined that the rest of us will bleach out in a couple of weeks.:

"… I'll be stuck inside for that time."

A slightly exasperated sigh. :Well, maybe you'll think before plunging off into the middle of one of your experiments the next time, yes?:

"… you're mad at me."

I flatten my ears and looks down at my hooves. Rather than silver, they're a rather unusual shade of metallic moss-green. :Slightly, yes,: I say frankly. Hari has a growing Gift for Truth-telling, a variation of Thoughtsensing, :but that's not the point here. The point is that the longer you stay up that tree, the more annoyed with you the Dean and mages are going to get.: I look back up to the mostly-obscured figure of my Chosen. :You'd be better to get it over and done with.:

"I'll think about it," the branches rustle, and I lose sight of Hari once more.

:Fine,: I ripple my (very, very green) hide in a shrug, :I am going to get something to eat.: I turn and am about to leave the shade of the tree, when motion from above catches my attention.

"Um… Coda?" Hari's voice is a strange mixture of caution and embarrassment.

I pause, one foot in the air and look back. :Yes, Hari?:

"Um… the oats… um… don't eat them."

My ears flatten again and I quickly Reach out in the direction of the Stables; enough to get a feel of who is in there, and what they are doing. It seems that pretty much everyone in the Stables right now is eating oats. Including both the Groveborn, the Queen's Companion, and most of the few remaining 'normal' Companions.

Hoo, boy.

:What colour is in the oats?: I ask, not really sure that I want to know the answer.

Silence for a moment. "I never said that they'd turn you colours!" Hari protests. Too much, methinks.

:Then why did you tell me not to eat them?: I ask logically.

More silence, then, "…blue… um… royal blue…"

Hoo.

Boy.