The World of Pern(tm) copyright (c) 1967 by Anne McCaffrey.
The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a registered copyright.
An online session, recorded by permission of the author for the benefit
of members unable to attend.
=======================================================================

November 21-22, 1998.  PernMUSH.  E'vrin's POV.
--
Your location's current time: 0:38 on day 1, month 3, Turn 25, of the
Tenth Pass. It is a spring night.
Cast:  E'vrin, Kassima.

A troubled E'vrin visits Kassima, seeking enlightenment and just plain
light in his darkened life.
=======================================================================

Sharath> Lysseth senses that Sharath's firelit facets lurk into
awareness: found her. << We visit. >> He's subdued. << May we land at
your weyr? >>

Dragon> Sharath senses that Lysseth replies with surprise--not
displeased surprise, no; just a reaction to the unexpected--<< Of
course. You remember the way? >>

Sharath> Lysseth senses that Sharath expresses the tremor of
concentration. << E'vrin does. >> After he had to haul the bronze,
nearly physically, off that ledge in the morning.

You fold your wings and land on Lysseth's ledge, then make your way
into the weyr proper.
--
Lysseth and Kassima's Weyr(#6901RJMs)
        Making your way into the weyr shared by Lysseth and her
lifemate, Kassima, the first thing you notice is that it's remarkably
similar to the weyr the pair shared at Benden. Kassi's old furniture
is positioned roughly where it was back home; her large bed is over to
one side of the room, tidily made and covered with a warm peacock blue
comforter. The press beside it undoubtedly contains Kassi's things. A
sturdy set of shelves containing knickknacks and trinkets galore can
be found near the rack that proudly displays the greenrider's amazing
assortment of knives. A wine-press, stocked generously with Benden Red
and more exotic vintages, is tucked away in a corner.
        On the other side of the weyr is Lysseth's couch, thickly
lined with soft sleeping furs. In one corner is a chair upholstered in
a peacock blue fabric; it is well-padded and looks worn, but very
comfortable. The small table in front of it looks to double as a
footstool, with a much finer table beyond it used for more formal
purposes. A few clawmarked fire-lizard perches are scattered here and
there.
        The view is not exactly spectacular in this weyr--it's high up
enough that primarily, what you can see from the interior consists of
sky and the opposite side of the Bowl wall. Still, the sunrises and
sunsets from here must be marvelous. The cries of wind, wherries, and
fire-lizards can be heard clearly, often accompanied by the beating of
dragonwings. Not overly large, as ledges go, the expanse of flat rock
outside is nonetheless ample enough to allow Lysseth to sun herself
when she chooses.
The winter skies have a dull gray pall to them as an overcast covers
Telgar.
Contents:
Lysseth
Kassima
Ketsurai Dragon Box
Visions of Benden Tapestry
Kassima's Perching Rock
M'rgan's Fright
--

You slide down Sharath's shoulder and foreleg to the ground.

Kassima is seated in the one chair in the room at the moment, working
on something--hides, it would seem. However, she sets down charcoal
and stylus in order to stand, smiling, and greet the bronzerider with,
"Duties to Igen and her queens, E'vrin. 'Tis a pleasure. What brings
you up to the frigid North this evening? Oh... pull up a rock or box
or what have you if you like, by the by."

Sharath remains out on the ledge, although his great blue-lantern eyes
peer in curiously. Silhouetted against them, E'vrin's figure is tall,
lean, and taut. "Oh, just visiting, I guess," he tries and comes a
little closer. "I take it you don't mind?"

Lysseth warbles her own sweet-voiced greeting from where she rests in
her couch, one wing bandaged at the shoulder-join but otherwise
seeming hale and hearty enough. Kassi shakes her head at once,
abandoning the chair for the sake of heading towards the
entranceway. "A'course nay; Lyss would've said. Please, come in." A
dark eyebrow arches curiously, limned by glowlight; several glows have
been unshielded, to make the weyr's interior suitably lit for
reading. "Is all well with you?"

E'vrin skitters away from her approach, but it's a subtle thing, more
automatic than insulting. His mouth fixes in a thin curve; above, eyes
are hooded dark. "Oh, well, well, thank you. Good evening to both of
you -- My stars. What happened to Lysseth?"

Kassima points out, quite frankly, "You don't seem well. You
seem--troubled." Yes, that suits. Glancing back over her shoulder at
her dragon, she shrugs and replies ruefully, "Wing-sprain. 'Tis why we
missed the Hatching, alas, though I sent the lasslings on with
R'ehn. Healers say 'tis just one of those things; she'll be well again
within the month."

E'vrin helps, "I think I /heard/ one of your little ones. Talking
about ... lechery. With a blue rider." He shrugs and slides into the
last comment, not the first. "Well, I hope she heals soon." Eyes
switch between rider and dragon, as if unsure about whom to address.

Kassima's groan suggests that she can guess very well what was
probably said. "Kharisma has some very odd notions. Something tells me
she's the one you mean. She can be rather... loud." She seems rather
sheepish while explaining this. A rumble from Lysseth fortunately
draws her attention to the second comment. "Oh, Lyss thanks you and
says she's certain she will. She's a bit perturbed, y'know. A good
patient she isn't. You were at the Hatching, then?"

"I was. It was the usual event, I'm afraid." A smile lights E'vrin's
face slyly, shyly. "No doubt someone will get you the full tally for
your wager archives. But ... I'm 'the one' what? I've never met
Kharisma that I know of; has she talked of me?"

[I'd misread the previous pose.  Well, it happens IRL, too.]

"They'd *better*. Though I already made a bundle on Yazric getting
bronze," Kassi replies, mischief coloring her tone; gambling is, of
course, one of her favorite games. "And another on the queen egg
Hatching this time. You're 'the one'? She said something like that?"
Puzzled, the greenrider shakes her head. "Nay that I'm aware of. I
don't believe you've ever met Khari--though 'twas news t'me that you'd
met Kay, so."

You say "Oh, but that was Turns ago. Doesn't matter, I guess; never
mind." He finds a fresh smile from somewhere. A pocket, maybe. "Mind
if I sit? It /has/ been a long day."

Kassima gestures towards the various seating accoutrements around the
weyr, which are rather... well, limited. Upturned empty boxes, one
large rock, and one comfortable chair padded in blue. "Take the chair
if'n you like," she invites. "I'm used t'perching on the rock."

E'vrin hesitates, but obeys, sinking gingerly into the chair. Back's
too straight against the upholstery; hands are flat on thighs. "It's a
very interesting weyr," he says politely once settled. "May I ask why
you have that rock for seating?"

Interesting would be a word for the place, certainly. It's not every
rider whose walls are decorated not only with children's paintings,
but giant tunnelsnake heads, a knife rack, a tapestry, an
Emasculator.... "I've accumulated a lot of clutter," Kassi admits,
climbing smoothly onto the rock. "This is a memento of home. Home and
people, really. Back at Benden--" and by the way she says that word,
one can tell that Benden is indeed 'home' to her, "I would always sit
here while Lyss was soaking or whatnay. Took t'carving things in
it. People's names, symbols... some of those people are gone, now, but
I can remember 'em. And when duty bade me move, I took this with me."
A shrug, and she changes the subject somewhat: "Care for aught
t'drink? I've wine and glasses, though naught nonalcoholic, I fear."

E'vrin considers the answer, and the question, as if it had been
presented in an oral examination before the masterharpers back at the
Hall. That is, stone-serious. "Perhaps a little wine, thank you. Not
too much; Sharath doesn't like what it does to my mind, and neither do
I, really. But relaxing ... is good." He glances around again,
rueful. "I have nothing in my weyr. You should see it. Bare."

Kassima admits cheerfully, "I've a fondness for drink; have had for
Turns. Even mix the stuff. But Lyss protests whenever I drink m'self
blurry, so I don't, often." Sliding from the perch, she moves to open
the wine cabinet near Lysseth's couch, rummaging amongst the bottles
and skins therein. "Red or White? I do keep White here, for
visitors. And your weyr's new, isn't it? I'd naught 'tall m'first Turn
or two as a rider, but after thirteen... it tends t'be piling up. But
something tells me you didn't come here t'be seeing all m'odds and
ends."

E'vrin answers, "White? Something dry would be good." While she's
busy, he can struggle to hide a muddled expression: consternation,
dismay, something else. "Why wouldn't I come to see your odds and
ends? They're very interesting."

Kassima brings two 'skins out of the cabinet, and pours each of two
glasses--she seems to have a lot of glasses about, ranging from etched
crystal to plain; the ones she chooses are somewhere
inbetween--half-full from one of them. One Red, one White. "I suppose
'tis *possible*," she agrees, returning to proffer the White
glass. "But I don't recall mentioning m'odds and ends t'you a'fore, so
why would you specifically come to the Icy Wastelands t'be seeing 'em?
Something's troubling you, E'vrin, or I'm a three-legged wherry named
Fritz."

E'vrin's mouth trembles with insubordinate mirth, then he takes a sip
from the accepted glass. "...Well, I /was/ going to find my sister,
since Lysseth's flight rather interrupted that, but by the time I was
free to come here, it was too late for anyone but you, really. Sharath
found Lysseth still awake, so here we are. I /can/ go--"

"My humblest apologies for interrupting," Kassima replies, amusement
there too. "Oh, Faranth, nay need t'be going anywhere. We're both
insomniacs, and you're better company than hides by far. I just didn't
want t'take up your time chitchatting about weyr decorations if'n
you'd more weighty discussion topics on your mind."

You say "Weyrmates."

Kassima blinks, pausing mid-motion of bringing her glass up to her
lips. "Weyrmates," she repeats. "That... can be weighty, I
suppose. What about them?"

E'vrin shrugs and peers into his wine. "It's what started all this,"
he muses to it. "Laurene and Macami, that is." He sighs.

"Laurene and Macami?" Kassi asks, uncomprehending. "I know them. Or
know of them. Cousins of two friends of mine, I believe. What is it
that they've started?"

E'vrin parrots. "Laurene was in love with me. Macami is in love with
Siara, another rider down there. Neither of them could wait any longer
for their loves to be requited, so they weyrmated, themselves."
Another sigh. Another sip. "Well, anyway -- have you ever weyrmated? I
asked Father -- V'bor."

Kassima blinkblinks at this statement, assimilating it quietly as she
sips at her wine. Until she's asked about weyrmating herself. *That*
makes her choke. "Me? Good shards and shells, nay. I'm rather
notorious for it... at least, here." She gives a shrug, and a wry
smile. "Nay anyone has ever asked me, whom I'd have considered. Life's
sometimes like that. Romance isn't m'forte. Does it bother you, this
weyrmating of Laurene and Macami?"

You say "It did. If it does now ... don't know." He frowns into the
wine, then punishes it by drinking some. Poor, defenseless wine. "I
mean, they just went off together, and never mind their true
feelings. I thought weyrmating was like marriage, and that isn't why
you marry someone, forsooth!"

"Hardly that," Kassi notes dryly. "Personal experience I may lack, but
I've seen plenty of weyrmatings a'fore. Some are due t'what is thought
t'be True Love Eternal. Some are more for the sake of...." She thinks
about it for a moment, then shrugs. "Convenience, I guess. 'Tis nay as
permanent as marriage, after all, and easy enough t'be breaking. I
suppose I can sort of see their point. If'n you can never have
something, and know it, is it nay better t'be accepting it and getting
on with life?"

E'vrin punishes more wine. "Yes, you've a point there. Better to warm
oneself at a hearth if you can't have the bonfire, right? I told
Laurene I don't love her, anyway. I've moved on; apparently she has,
too. Still..."

"Still," Kassi agrees. She isn't precisely punishing her wine... more
like studying it. "There's always the might-have-been, I suppose. Or
the might-be. And can what you have ever be as sweet if there's always
that niggling 'What if?'" A chuckle escapes her, rueful, but with
mirth underlying it. "I don't know. Wouldn't be the one t'say."

E'vrin peers owlishly at her over his lowered glass, which long, slack
hands support against his tummy. "Me, either. What kind of person
would you weyrmate with, do you think?"

"Well, I only have three *main* requirements. Nay counting that
'twould have t'be a man," Kassi appends almost as an
afterthought. "But two of the three are rather dependant. 'Twould have
t'be someone who could love me, and whom I could love--and who's t'say
what kind of person that might be? I can only guess. What of you?" she
parries, lifting an eyebrow over the wineglass-rim.

You say "Don't know." A weak smile, moistened by wine. "Sorry. I knew
the question was coming, but really, I don't know. I've never been in
love. Never been /around/ love. What do I know?"

Kassima lifts her glass in an ironic toast. "Here's to that. I've been
around love, m'self. And I usually wind up being someone's romance
counselor." This appears to amuse her. "You're uniquely qualified when
your view is entirely objective, it seems. But there's naught wrong
with nay knowing."

E'vrin hoards his glass close to his belly, not drinking, not
toasting. Frowning again. "--A woman, I suppose. For me. But ... I
haven't spoken to my mother in four Turns, my half-sisters are back
home and my sister is somewhere here, Laurene is now all distant and
cold, Macami hates me, Siara is ... odd, Katany stormed out of my
/weyr,/ Lyndra's getting handfasted, Lyria is upset with me for some
reason I don't /even/ know, and all the rest are in love and ignoring
me." His sigh sinks him deeper into the chair, long legs
sprawling. "Really, you're the only one on speaking terms with me,
Kassima."

Kassima crosses her own legs, perching atop the rock like some sort of
strange oracle. "I haven't seen any reason nay t'be on speaking terms
with you," she points out. "Even if'n 'twere given t'nay being on
speaking terms with folk, which isn't true. With due respect, E'vrin,
it sounds like you're having one Red Star of a time." Referring, no
doubt, to the long list of angry women.

E'vrin glimmers a little sad smile. "Yeah, and that's just the female
list, Kassi -- Kassima." He sips more wine with great care. "Don't
worry about the respect part; it's just me, and you don't need to be
formal and respectful with me. You've seen me at my worst, right?"

Kassima lifts an eyebrow again, setting the now-empty wineglass down
on the floor. "If'n any state I've seen you in is your worst, then
you're a decidedly better man than most. But, as 'twould have it: I
don't stand on formality when it doesn't seem needed. And you don't
have t'call me by full name. People usually only do that when they're
about t'threaten m'life."

E'vrin peers. "Why would they do that? You're hardly offensive. Or
mean. Or nasty."

"You don't know me very well, do you?" Kassi asks, and it sounds to be
a rhetoric. "I have a few peculiar hobbies, one of which involves the
back-and-forth playing of pranks 'tween a few folk. I don't think
we'll ever *really* kill each other, though. Too messy."

"Killing," says E'vrin soberly, "is bad."

"Indeed," Kassi agrees. "I want t'die in an interesting fashion, but
being throttled by a mob of revenge-seeking maleriders probably isn't
the way t'do it, wouldn't you say?"

E'vrin considers. "Why male riders, just them?" He eyes Lysseth: her
contribution?

Kassima points out, with a grin, "Greenriders have t'stick together,
y'know. 'Tis us against them... or some of them. Nay all of them. I
can't really think of greenriders I wind up on the opposite side of,
save when proddy." Tilting her head, she wonders, "'Tis nay so, for
maleriders? It often seems so."

E'vrin shrugs. "How should I know?" The refrain of the night. "I
haven't noticed it. Where would I see it?"
You say "No one talks to me, remember? Except you."

Kassima favors E'vrin with a rueful smile. "Poor you, t'have only me
for company. There must be a way t'fix this. Nay that *I* mind talking
to you--far from--but it sounds hard on you. Have you been looking
towards making amends with these angry people?"

E'vrin protests, only mildly drunk, "But I enjoy talking with you. You
/listen./ And don't laugh or get upset." Mourn. "Like everyone else."

Kassima is nowhere near drunk, of course; as much the former lush as
she claimed, she is at least possessed of a rather respectable
tolerance. "And I with you, you may be certain--what's so laughable or
upsetting? Aside from what's laughable about all of life, anyway." She
regards him in thoughtful silence for a moment, dark green eyes
half-lidded. "You may enjoy talking with me, but it distresses you
that the others are upset or laughing. Doesn't it?"

You say "Sure."

"So, the best thing t'do is t'reconcile with them," Kassima concludes,
"so that 'twill nay longer distress you, nor them, and you can all be
happier. Easier said than done, though, I'm guessing?"

E'vrin debates another 'sure,' then decides on, "Yes, it is." He isn't
tipped over into full intoxication, mind: eyes are clear, voice is
steady. Just ... relaxed. Tired. "It's a vicious circle, you know. You
anger someone, you withdraw, they get more angry, you withdraw
more...."

Kassima twists idly at one of her rings, listening and
considering. "Then either someone's got t'stop getting angry, or
someone has t'stop withdrawing," she points out after a moment. "Is it
better t'withdraw than talk it out, or apologize, or explain? Better
t'leave the break than try t'mend it?"

E'vrin shrugs. Sips wine.

Kassima shrugs, too, in a mostly unconscious echo. "Wouldn't try
t'tell you how t'live your life, a'course; 'tis simply... well, you're
a friend, I think. I'd like t'call you one. And I don't like seeing
friends in distress, d'you ken?"

"Do," E'vrin says and pushes himself up. "I wish all my friends, or
former friends or whatever, were as understanding. Then I wouldn't
worry about their status towards me.... I should go. I'm already under
one suspicious eye from my wingleader; I can't make it worse."

Kassima unfolds her legs and slides down from the rock, minding the
glss on the floor. "Everyone has their moments of understanding verses
moments of intolerance, I fear. A part of being human. I wish you well
with them, on any road, and if'n you need t'talk again... well, y'know
where I am. And while Lyss is grounded, we're certes nay going t'be
going anywhere."

E'vrin bobs his head firmly. "Got it. Maybe I'll come back if I can."
His smile is lopsided. "Wish /you/ were my wingleader; some situations
would be eased." Some. Awkward silence. (Is that the wafting scent of
-- lust?) He looks away. "Well ... we're off."

Kassima smiles crookedly, and admits, "Don't know. It could be... but
the point's probably moot; if'n I ever swap Weyrs again, 'twill be
t'Benden." Nodding, she looks towards the ledge herself. "Clear skies,
then; duties--and g'night." A hint of mischief in that smile. "I
remembered, this time."

E'vrin smiles happily. "You did! Good night, Kassima, Lysseth. Clear
skies."

You scramble up Sharath's foreleg and shoulder to rest between two
fire-bright neckridges.

Sharath> Lysseth senses that Sharath's only comment is a subliminal
mutter. Soggy, bumbling idiot--

[Then they go home.  Log ends.]