He sneezed, next, then coughed again, and tiny balled-up fists--still not wholly under the control of the dragon-child; more autopiloted than understood--raised to push at his eyes. He squinted into his own hands, and eventually and more by luck than anything, managed to clear his face of goop.

In the meantime, the others were speaking. Or--two of the three, at least, though Bezaliel hardly registered which two these were. Words, rumbled but mostly beyond his understanding. Perhaps he could have focused, yes--dredged their meaning up from some ancestral knowledge--but Bezaliel did not care to. That faint impatience rose again, and he started to stumble up. Vague understanding that there were introductions ongoing caused irritation to join the impatience. It wasn't anything specific--he was too young for that. It was more some sort of instinctive insistence that his name should come first.

"Bezalulul," he tried, and then he stumbled as he came fully to his toddler's oversized feet. A little wing--still wet, hardly yet unfurled--flapped out with a sudden jerk to try and steady himself but he'd fallen on his butt before he could catch his balance.

He frowned, not even aware that he'd fallen, so great was his focus on his name. He'd barely registered the others', but his-?

"Bezalelol," he tried again, then made a sort of childish, frustrated cry and smacked fists weakly against his thighs. Baby frown turned into baby scowl. "BEZ-A-LELI." Still not right. "Bez-ah-LYEE-yell?!" This one was a question, and his scowl--glowing eyes flaring under knit brows--turned questioningly to each parent in turn. And then, too, to his sibling. He seemed to be asking them, 'am I saying it right!?'

The meat was only noticed secondarily, and a second stumbling attempt was made to stand. Bezaliel tottered to the food, and then dropped back onto his backside again with another thud--again uncaring--and started to try and take handfuls of meat from a hunk of meat that would... likely not work that way. The child was left still-scowling, but now studiously, as he tried (with a sort of possessive half-mantling, and side-eye at the others) to figure out how food worked.

The child continued to try and take 'handfuls' of a relatively solid substance, a huff escaping him. Flameglow eyes shot briefly to Doru, empty of emotion bar mild irritation. "Bezlaleeyell," he 'corrected.' Undoubtedly he'd welcome the nickname Bez later, or even suggest it again himself; but since it wasn't his idea, and he was still fighting with the full name, his response was sullenly stubborn.

His attention shifted back to the meat.

Pudgy fingers kept grasping at flesh, trying to wrest free something to chew. In the end he gave up, baring fangs in a hiss before shoving down and biting clumsily instead, tearing a chunk weakly free and then falling back on his butt to chew at it.

Bez ignored all else, now, other than the food--with the exception of sullen eyes snapping up to anyone close by. It was a possessive look, a 'don't come near me, this is mine' even though he had absolutely no way to defend against creatures so enormous. He even bared bloodied fangs, briefly, hugging his hunk of breakfast (or dinner, or whatever it might be) closer to his chest.

Once he was finished, he didn't rest, as Doru had. Instead he stumbled back to his feet, and in the manner of toddlers the universe over, immediately tried to wander off to explore his surroundings and probably get into trouble.

Thankfully, he had parents there to corral him, for now.