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.
============================================================================

April 17, 2000.  PernMUSH.  E'vrin's POV.
--
Spring evening, Telgar Weyr.
Cast:  E'vrin, Kassima, Sayra, Alessandra, Jenni, Saskia.

E'vrin returns to Telgar Weyr, this time as a resident to stay.
============================================================================
Telgar Weyr's Living Cavern(#750RDJM$)
This huge cavern is sufficiently roomy to hold a large portion of the
  Weyr's population without feeling cramped. There's always a bustle of
  activity here. Fragrant dishes are constantly in prepartion for
  mealtimes: currently for the evening meal. Drudges are always present,
  either cleaning under Pierron's watchful eye, or helping fetch and
  carry. A myriad of glowbaskets and many ever-lit hearths make the cavern
  warm and inviting despite its size. The scents of cooking meats, baking
  breads and pastries, and the pungent aroma of spices hang
  mouthwateringly in the air. It is little wonder that those seeking to
  relax nearly always find their way here to do it. The tables are
  decorated with a multitude of bright spring flowers.
A short tunnel jaunts northward out to the bowl and the merry sounds of
  cooking, chores, and laughter echo from the kitchen at the southeast end
  of the cavern near the easterly passage to the rest of the lower
  caverns. Within the lower caverns is an entrance to the infirmary weyr
  to care for injured dragons and riders.
Contents:
PLAYERS: Pierron E'vrin 
OTHER: Dragonpoker Table, Stage
--

Kassima walks in from the bowl.

Pierron humphs thoughtfully as the Wingleader of Thunderbolt arrives.

E'vrin lumps darkly at the end of a table. Chin in hands, he appears to be
  staring bemusedly at the arrangement of flowers before him.

--
Of good height and toned build, this man seems thinner from recent
  privation, but taller and stronger from a concomitant revitalization.
  New lines couch the corners both of his intense green eyes, hooded by
  dark brows in his face's austere mask, and of the wide mouth below his
  bluntly curved nose. Southern sun has darkened fair skin to soft leather
  and brightened clipped brown hair to the minted gold of his trained
  baritone, yet even the slanting, self-aware confidence alight in that
  voice cannot fully buoy his left leg's hitched limp.
E'vrin looks to be in his mid-thirties. Heavy wool frames him in a cloak's
  stark black lines; an intricately knotted silver clasp catches the folds
  at his throat, below the hood pushed back limply across his shoulders.
  The muted autumnal colors of a simple, warm shirt, trousers, and boots
  are visible beneath the cloak.  
--

Kassima is dark, herself; dark-haired, dark-eyed, dark mutterings at
  Pierron's ever-cheerful greeting. "One of these days, I'm going t'be
  tearing off that man's leg and drubbing him t'death with it." The threat
  lacks force, of course. She skims past table, table, table, en route to
  her own, but is distracted by something bright. Flowers. And then,
  behind the flowers--"*E'vrin*?"

"Ushu would be disappointed that he's not first on your list," E'vrin
  replies mildly and looks up at the wingleader. For the space of a moment
  -- a smile lights his entire face. Then the expression falls. "You
  didn't /say/ it was spring, Kassi. I've missed a few seasons."

Kassima rubs at dark-ringed eyes as though to clear them, but no, the
  sight doesn't change. "E'vrin," she repeats, with a slow and wondering
  smile, changing her course to head for where he sits. "I didn't see
  Sharath--he didn't warn me--shells, man. You're looking wonderful."
  Sincerity there, too. "Has it been so long since you were up here that
  you couldn't remember which season goes with what dates?"

Sharath> Lysseth senses that Sharath obliges with a wind-blown crystal
  chime of thought: << We're back. >>

E'vrin doesn't disappear like a mirage, no, but he looks rather /thin/
  enough to be one, perhaps. Looks chagrined, too. "You just ... forget,
  down South," he admits. "What do dates mean? A time to go swimming, a
  time to go hunting, it's all the same after a while." He shrugs, looks
  aside for a moment, one hand splayed across the tabletop under a fold of
  his cloak. Balance, maybe. "--Sorry."

Dragon> Sharath senses that Lysseth rings crystal against crystal,
  silver-sheened blue with bubbles of laughter caught inside. << So she
  had noticed. Welcome, you are, the both of you. >>

Sharath> Lysseth senses that Sharath's mind rubs through the bubbles with
  sheer, animal pleasure: something long missed, half-forgotten. << Thank
  you. We have a weyr near yours, E'vrin said, but I didn't see you to say
  hello. That is, after all, what riders are for. >>

"Do you need to apologize? Nay really. Don't worry on it. *My* apologies,
  for nay thinking of it and failing t'mention. You also missed the
  Hatching, I'm afraid." Kassi rests long, pale fingers over the top of
  one of the chairs nearest. Hesitantly, "May I sit? And stare, I should
  ask, though 'tis nay the politest request. Kris wasn't kidding when he
  said you were dark."

A flash of white teeth grinned against, indeed, sun-darkened skin, and
  E'vrin lifts his shoulder again, this time in acquiescence, welcome.
  "'Course you may. Your Weyr, isn't it?" Thoughtful, as he faces her
  fully, he adds, "And mine. I guess. Obviously, it all went through. Got
  a weyr and everything."

Dragon> Sharath senses that Lysseth's response is cryptic, even as the
  facets twist to allow in light; the light caresses, and the bubbles
  simply are-- << Yes, it would be near, wouldn't it? We have been in that
  weyr for most of the day. The children, the hidework. Terribly boring.
  But I believe the surprise is good for her. >>

Sharath> Lysseth senses that Sharath replies simply with a flicker of low
  hearthflame: << He is glad. >>

Kassima returns the grin as abruptly, white against white, and drags out
  the seat to settle in without further ado. "More A'lex's than mine, but
  yours at least as much, aye. Welcome--and welcome to Sharath; Lyss bids
  me nay forget t'say that." Then she does indulge in staring, or
  scrutiny, green eyes considering him for several moments. "You look
  wonderful," she repeats. "*Healthy*. Have they let you know your Wing
  assignment yet?"

Dragon> Sharath senses that Lysseth steals a tendril of that warmth to
  wrap around herself, a glowing nimbus around crystal spires. << He looks
  well, she says. Are *you* well? You sound well. >>

E'vrin indulges in raised eyebrows, but answers the question first, polite
  as ever: "No, not yet. I understand it was a rush just to find an empty,
  available weyr. I had to have room for the stove -- you'll remember
  that? Sharath would've been heartbroken not to have it, especially in
  this climate. --He thanks you for the welcome; I smell green in his
  thoughts, so I suppose he's chatting with Lysseth."

Sharath> Lysseth senses that Sharath agrees, not without some smugness
  like honeywine bubbling in his own crystal flutes, << I /am/ well. Are
  you? >>

"Faranth, aye, that stove. The one whose warmth he was so jealous of,
  wanting me t'be staying on the ledge so as nay t'share it." Kassi
  indulges in a grin at the memory, amusement erasing some of exhaustion's
  mark from eyes and mein. "Well. That's unusual. Perhaps he was waiting
  for your Wingleader to do the honors--" She breaks off then, eyes
  unfocusing. "Aye, 'tis so. She's smug. Says it serves me right getting
  surprised like that, after keeping her in the weyr most of the day."

E'vrin nods sagely. "Children and hides, am I right?"

Dragon> Sharath senses that Lysseth investigates: sweet and rich, this
  liquor? Her own tones are mellow, fine Benden red to contrast with
  nectared gold. << I would say so. Nearly deafened, for the hatchlings
  are *loud* creatures, but that's nothing unusual. >>

Sharath> Lysseth senses that Sharath bubbles vague surprise. << Your rider
  did /not/ Impress more little fire-lizards, did she? >> Bubble, bubble;
  toil and trouble -- indeed!

Kassima's ruefully rolling eyes finish their circuit on him. "Either
  Sharath's been telling, or you're a good guesser. Nay that 'tis hard
  t'guess." Meanwhile, a hand slips into one of her jacket pockets to
  rummage. Rummage, rummage. "How long have you been here? Lysseth must
  have been asleep when you arrived, or she'd have reported. Methinks."

Dragon> Sharath senses that Lysseth blanches Red to White, aghast. << All
  fates forfend--no, it is her hatchlings, the pink ones. Terribly loud.
  Bothersome. Adorable, but bothersome. I am looking forward to when
  Ularrith and Cymrith's respective riders take them and we are free to
  fly again. >> Double, double morelike, with twins.

"Not long, not long..." E'vrin's hand flicks out, touches a drooping
  flower, hides itself again in his cloak. He looks abstracted, with no
  help from the chiaroscuro lighting pocking and bleaching his expression.
  "Sorry for the poor conversation -- as usual! -- but we came direct from
  Southern to Igen to here, and I've lost track ... of a lot. Well. And
  how are the children?"

Sharath> Lysseth senses that Sharath's laughter rolls light-dark-light, a
  swallow of heady wine-fire, through green's consternation. << Children,
  is it? Yes. How is E'vrin's? The short, pale one, who folds me paper
  likenesses of entirely the wrong color? >>

A snort escapes Kassi, without thought. "Still self-depriciating. If'n the
  conversation's poor, 'tis apt t'be m'fault as much as yours, but here--"
  A wing-patch, insignia facedown, is placed on the table and slid across.
  "For you. Should have let me know; I'd have finagled the time t'help you
  move, and kept some of the burden from poor Sharath's martyred
  shoulders. The children are... maddening, exasperating, wonderful.
  Children. Y'know. But Kris is well; he was gathering flowers today."

E'vrin sighs, "Spring. I had entirely forgotten...." Now his questing hand
  finds the wing-patch, and toys with it for now. Frown. "Do you think --
  I should be checking in with someone? Do you have a Weyrleader on hand?
  The Igen end of this was handled, but--"

Dragon> Sharath senses that Lysseth swirls ruddy intoxicants through the
  fire, intensifying rather than dousing: it should be a chide, proud
  creature, but that laughter is infectuous. << Quite. And what, may I
  ask, is so wrong with green? I thought you *liked* that color. Or is it
  blues and browns that catch your fancy now? The small one is well, in
  any event, and much less vexing than the smaller ones yet.
  Well-mannered, at least. >>

Sharath> Lysseth senses that Sharath shines an innocuously transparent
  reply: << I like greens. >> Shadow eclipses, briefly, with E'vrin's own
  signature. << --I've told him, thank you. /You/ are high spirits, I
  feel. All that time asleep in your weyr has energized you? >>

Sharath> Above, Tierth leaps from Solarith and Tierth's Ledge and flies
  into the air.
Sharath> Tierth backwings for a landing.

Sharath> Maylia slides to the ground, giving Tierth a parting caress and a
  tender smile.

Sharath> Sharath crouches in a cloak-winged shuddering mass -- wind! cold!
  hey! -- but manages a slit-eyed glance at the pair.

Kassima's gaze flicks towards the Weyrleaders' table: empty. "On hand,
  evidently nay. 'Twould say you should check in sometime--for politesse,
  if'n naught else--but he is busy, so soon after the Hatching and with
  Fall matters, so might nay mind it being done through dragons if'n you
  preferred that route. Is something wrong with spring?"

Sharath> Tierth backwings to a landing near the weyrling barracks, eyeing
  the stranger with curiosity.

E'vrin shakes his head. "Just the sense of being -- lost. Behind. You
  know." And he flips the badge over to peer at its inscription. "Wait a
  moment..."

Sharath> Ceria comes out of the weyrling barracks.

Sharath> Maylia walks through the entrance into the Weyrling Barracks.

Sharath> Ceria goes home.

Dragon> Sharath senses that Lysseth is, in return, briefly smug: a cloak
  of burgundy velvet drapes over crystalline edges. << There is much to
  like about us. One could say that; I was restless, am restless, and
  intelligent conversation is so greatly better than nothing that I hope
  you'll forgive my exuberance. Aside from which, my rider recalls that
  it's been long since we've spoken. >>

Sharath> Tierth senses that Sharath's touch is plaintive, fire flickering
  deep inside crystal walls as if afraid of the bowl's wind. << It is
  /cold/ here. >>

Sharath> Lysseth senses that Sharath grants that last with a smoothing
  touch that flicks at the cloak's hems, peeking, prying. << You could
  speak with your 'hatchlings.' >>

Kassima laces her fingers together beneath her chin, and regards him with
  innocent, innocent eyes. "Is something amiss, Wingrider? Apart from the
  disorientation, which I can understand, aye. From Benden t'Telgar
  brought the same feeling."

E'vrin narrows /his/ eyes. "Thunderbolt."

Dragon> Sharath senses that Tierth's answering touch shimmers with the
  fresh rain of springtime. << Cold? >> She inquires. << It is cold
  *between*. This is spring, it is getting warm. >>

Dragon> Sharath senses that Lysseth sends a spark of electricity to slap
  those mental hems. No peeking. Doesn't he know to allow a lady her
  privacy? << The children? No. No, I speak to none save Kassima; other
  human minds are... not to my taste. No offense to yours intended. >>

Sharath> Tierth senses that Sharath huddles mentally inside receding
  memories of sun-soaked beaches, sun-washed jungles, sun, sun, sun-- <<
  Cold, >> he mutters, insistent.

Sayra walks in from the bowl.

E'vrin sits at the end of a table with Kassima opposite. They talk
  quietly: he accusative, she innocent.

"Wingrider," Kassima repeats, purring. Forget innocence; mischief has
  taken hold.

Sayra accidentally stomps a little on her way in as her eyes adjust a
  little from dimness to light. "Er, um- Igen's duties," she greets,
  rather half-heartedly.

Sharath> Lysseth senses that Sharath whisks his touch away from the hems,
  alas, alack. << I feel little dragon minds about. You had a Hatching?
  Talk with /them./ Likely they could use the education, poor ones. >>

E'vrin takes that diversion, hand slapping over something on the table
  between him and the wingleader. "Sayra? Sayra! Come in, come in--"

Alessandra walks here from the Inner Cavern.

Kassima twists in the chair, though not without a last impish glance at
  the bronzerider, and hails: "Duties to Igen and her queens--Sayra,
  g'deve! And what's bringing you up to the Icy Wastes tonight?"

Dragon> Sharath senses that Tierth shares equally distant memories of true
  cold, Telgar at winter. Bone chilling wind whips snow as sharp as ice,
  filling the bowl in a whiteout, treacherous blizzard winds ripping down
  from above. This pales, then, warming to what is here now. << It can be
  much colder. >>

Sharath> Tierth senses that Sharath does not seem reassured by this news.

Sayra brightens fractionally. "E'vrin!" She heads that way, loosening the
  fastenings of her jacket and tugging off her gloves. "And Kassima,
  evening, both. I'm escaping, actually."

Dragon> Sharath senses that Lysseth magnanimously offers that cloak,
  post-retreat. Here. A gift. From me to you. She no longer needs it,
  after all. << I did, but they are... amusing, yet not enduring
  conversationalists. All *questions*. Why this and why that and what's
  that big bright round thing in the sky. >>

E'vrin folds his arms under his lean over the table and keeps eyes bright
  on the incoming rider. "From what? From whom?"

Dragon> Sharath senses that Tierth's enjoying this, in fact. But she does
  offer, << And it gets warmer, too. >>

"Who, what, when, where, why?" Kassi echoes. "From Igen? From warmth? From
  nice weather?"

Sharath> Lysseth senses that Sharath cuddles into the cloak; it is, after
  all, /cold/ here (and Tierth so unsympathetic!). Then he thinks to
  wonder, innocent to innocent, << And did you tell them that it was you?
  >>

E'vrin rolls his eyes. Nice weather -- oh, if only. The roll lands his
  gaze on Alessandra, to whom he nods politely.

Sayra rubs her hand over her face and smiles crookedly, with effort. "It's
  been..." she shakes her head. "Rough." She waves her hand vaguely
  southish, and says in short explanation, "Libeth and D'e.... Drew."

Alessandra beams at everyone as she walks in, practically bouncing her way
  into the living cavern. "Good evening, everyone," she chirrups, then
  dark eyes scrounge the area for juice and sweetrolls. Yes, sweetrolls.
  She's up for a sticky-sweet supper tonight.

Dragon> Sharath senses that Lysseth can provide warmth, and does, though
  it's electricity and blood-warmth rather than his hearthfire. << I am
  not *round*! >> she protests, mock-indignant. << Your memory--or your
  rider's--must have gone truly askew, to think *that*. >>

E'vrin looks politely blank now -- a moment before Sayra's correction
  sinks in. "Wait. You mean--"

"Ah." One syllable, enough to express understanding when combined with the
  flicker of sadness in deep green eyes. "Then this is as good a place as
  any for that. Please, sit, make yourself welcome; there's always food--"
  Kassi pauses to wave to Alessandra.

Sharath> Lysseth senses that Sharath protests in return, << If you sleep
  in your weyr all the time, and so does E'vrin's memory suggest, from
  your rider's letters -- you become round. I have seen this. There is an
  old, half-toothless blue at Southern Weyr who must be rolled to the
  beach for his baths. >>

Alessandra blinks, pausing as the somber mood throughout the room hits
  her. "What did I miss? Did I walk in at a bad time?..."

Sayra glances at E'vrin as she sits. "He had a stroke in Fall- Libeth was
  scored trying to bring him back to the Weyr. He's recovering-
  physically. Libeth didn't." She gives herself a small shake and clears
  her throat. "Sorry. I just..." she shrugs.

Pause. Then E'vrin nods and looks down at his hands, clasped together on
  the table before him.

Jenni walks in from the bowl.

Sayra looks morose. "Now I've gone and ruined an evening."

Dragon> Sharath senses that Lysseth's indignance becomes less mock,
  lightning zinging from spire to spire. << I am *not* fat. We drill, we
  fly, I hunt. I am not *rolled*. >> Prickly thing, isn't she?

Sharath> Lysseth senses that Sharath lances a touch, light, laughing, hot.
  << /I/ could roll you. >>

Alessandra offers Sayra a sympathetic look as she slides into a chair,
  having not seen Jenni yet, and places her place of sweetrolls and juice
  in front of her.

"I should have thought t'mention," Kassi murmurs to E'vrin, repentant. "I
  thought someone at Southern would have heard... 'tis naught, Alessandra;
  'tis talk of unhappy events, is all."

E'vrin looks up and tries a smile for both Sayra and Kassima. "No, no.
  Just -- you know. And he was one of my assistant Weyrlingmasters."
  Clears his throat. "So, let's speak of happy events, hmm? Is Igen well,
  Sayra? I saw it only briefly, stopping by to pack up my things."

Sayra nods as she stuffs gloves into her pockets and shrugs out of her
  jacket. "We're swapping wings with Reaches for a little while- Sirocco
  is there, and Avalanche is at Igen. They just arrived today. That was
  the other thing I was escaping- sheer and utter chaos."

Jenni walks in quietly and then goes into stealth mode. As it seems no one
  notices her, it's just as well, she creeps over to Aless and puts her
  hands over the woman's eyes at just the right moment.

Dragon> Sharath senses that Lysseth allows those prickles to recede back
  into mirth, grudgingly. << And you'd enjoy that, wouldn't you? >> Sisal
  touch: sun-warmed, silken, and still somehow with bubbles.

Sharath> Lysseth senses that Sharath rubs a warm thought into sisal. << I
  would. As it is, Tierth keeps me company for now. >>

Alessandra squawks, dropping her sweetroll in surprise as everything
  suddenly goes dark. "Who-what?" She whirls in her seat, away from those
  hands to stare up at--"JENNI!" And she's out of her seat and hugging the
  other girl tightly.

Kassima twists a rueful smile in return. "Happy events. Well, I told you
  about the Hatching, and of Nioth's capture of a Fortian queen; methinks
  that brings you up to speed on local happy events. That, and we're
  devoid of sheer and utter chaos, always a bonus."

Jenni laughs and then snickers quietly as she returns the hug tightly,
  "Aless! hey! You weren't suposed to turn around like that. Long time no
  see eh?" She reaches up to ruffle Aless' hair and then flashes a smile
  at the others in the cavern.

E'vrin watches Alessandra's reunion with some vague smile, then blinks
  back to his table. "A wing trade? What a novel idea. Whose was it? I'm
  almost sorry I've missed it, but--" cryptic green glances over Kassima
  "--I suppose I'll be getting my share of chaos here, soon enough."

Dragon> Lysseth bespoke Sharath with << Tierth is a companionable green,
  >> she agrees, equanimable and without the faintest emerald flicker. At
  least, not where he can see. << And she has fine taste in bronzes;
  Taralyth flew her last, you know. >>

Sharath> Lysseth senses that Sharath's thoughts loop vague. << I do not
  know Taralyth. Nor Tierth. But she is here and so am I. >>

"Drills are at first light," Kassima confirms, all unrepentant cheer.
  "Wait until you meet L'cher."

Alessandra leans over and gives her a kiss on the cheek before settling
  back down in her chair and tugging Jenni down into the seat next to her.
  "Want a sweetroll? I got plenty..." A bit of a guilty blush colors her
  cheeks as she indicates the four rolls on her plate.

Sayra grimaces. "I missed the Hatching... and I wanted to see it, Rinath's
  first, wasn't it?" She nods to E'vrin with a faint grin. "I think it was
  a joint idea, really."

Jenni hms at Aless' rolls as she flops into the seat beside her, "What in
  shards are you eatting all of those for? You're going to make yourself
  sick." She reaches over to take one of the sweets off the other woman's
  hands. "Thanks for the offer too."

Alessandra smiles innocently as she plucks one up from her plate, taking a
  big bite. She's /allowed/ to indulge every once in a while.

Dragon> Sharath senses that Lysseth supposese, << You would like
  him--Taralyth, that is to say--I think; *he* thinks, more than many
  bronzes do. >>

Kassima nods. Nod, nod. "Rinath's first, Taralyth's first. Seventeen
  greens, twelve blues, eight browns, five bronzes; I made a killing, and
  am that much closer to m'very own island."

Jenni reaches out to touch Aless' arm and then takes a bite of her roll as
  she silently turns her attention over to blatently listen into the other
  conversation for a heartbeat or two.

Sayra chuckles. "Good for you... I wanted to see it, Saskia being my
  cousin and all, but Eleyna wasn't feeling well. Very grumpy, as only
  4-turn-olds can be."

E'vrin makes a sympathetic face for Sayra. "You should get an island, like
  Kassima here."

Alessandra continues to nibble on her sweetroll, laughing softly at the
  others. "Just how much would an island /cost/ anyway? Anything at all?"

Jenni has disconnected.

Sayra ponders. "An island... now there's a thought."

"I'm nay certain; 'tis why I'm saving up a fortune, just in case," saith
  the Kassi. "If'n there're marks left over, why, I can be hiring bronzers
  t'fan me with palm fronds and feed me fruit. In loincloths. If'n I'm
  t'retire, I may as well do it in ridiculous style."

E'vrin says modestly, "She's going to hire me. She said so; I have it in
  writing."

Sayra says "It's only 29 turns til the Pass is over... perhaps I should
  start saving up.""

Alessandra raises an eyebrow and eyes Kassima up and down. "Kassi, I don't
  think you'd need to pay them to fan you." That said, she quite
  "innocently" goes back to her roll, finishing up her first.

Kassima flutters lashes at E'vrin. "So long as your rates are reasonable,
  m'dear. But I have a promise of *that* in writing, don't I?" Eyes roll
  up and over towards Alessandra. "Very kind of you t'say, but in error, I
  fear. M'reputation would prevent that even would it otherwise be true."

Sayra laughs. "You never know. Some people are kind of masochistic..." she
  teases a little.

E'vrin's eyes round. "Like who?"

Sayra considers. "Siara springs to mind... perhaps T'vor. Anyone partnered
  with Jerissa for so long must be. Hmmmm...." she trails off, thinking.

E'vrin tucks his mouth into a smug little smile. "/Gossip./ I swear,
  Sayra, you're speaking gossip, aren't you?"

Sayra claps her hand over her mouth. "Mmmph!"

Kassima senses "E'vrin adds past the flower arrangement and the
  crosscurrents of talk, "/Thunderbolt./ Your idea?""

Kassima purses her mouth at mention of T'vor, but says nothing, instead
  offering a wry grin. "Masochism would be the reason. Should I take
  m'Emasculator along, so as nay t'disappoint 'em?"

You sense Kassima leans in to murmur back, hidden by spring petals, "Aye
  and nay. We were promised the next bronze long agone, and though 'Lex
  didn't recall it, *I* did." A pause. "Does it bother you? Truly?"

E'vrin shudders artistically.

Sayra shakes her head. "I'm picking up bad habits in my old age...
  m'Emasculator?" she wonders.

Kassima senses "E'vrin answers candidly once he's done playing up for the
  crowd, "No. A surprise, and I imagine there are those who'll be plying
  the gossip trade about it, but -- no.""

"My Emasculator," Kassi elucidates with clearer enunciation. "'Tis a
  Beastcraft castration device; Tria got me one as a gift many Turns
  agone. It even has m'name on the handle." And if she grins at E'vrin's
  shudder, well, at least she covers her mouth to hide it.

Alessandra has disconnected.

"It adds," says E'vrin, judicious, "to her /reputation,/ you understand."

Alessandra has connected.

Sayra snorts a chuckle. "Ah! I see. Yes, that would..."

You sense Kassima breathes out the quietest of snorts. "Gossip. Aye.
  Memories are long--I couldn't resist, though. You did once make a
  wistful comment about if'n only 'twere your Wingleader, Turns agone, and
  the amusement value was too high. Besides, we can well use a pair such
  as you and Sharath."

Kassima insists, butter surely unable to melt in her mouth, "I haven't a
  clue what reputation you're talking about."

Kassima senses "E'vrin replies with only a smile crooked at some play of
  thoughts his eyes quite hide -- perhaps more talk, later, outside the
  crush of others' attention."

Sayra eyes Kassima. "My little sister used to live at Benden, you know.
  I've heard more than you'd think."

E'vrin clucks his tongue; his eyes dance at the wingleader. "Caught,"
  quoth he.

You sense Kassima slants back a half-smile, brief: acknowledgement,
  agreement, lest the others start wondering what they're whispering about.

Kassima heaves an exaggerated sigh and raises the back of one hand to her
  forehead, eyes rolling back. "Alas! Alas, alack, woe and wurra
  wurra--that I have been so betrayed, m'own Weyrfolk of old telling
  *stories* about me. Poor, innocent me, who's never done the half of
  those things. Really."

Sayra hmmmmmmmms thoughtfully.

"Poor Kassima," E'vrin agrees, reaching out to tap her forearm with a
  long, tanned finger. "Much put-upon. Much maligned. /Much/ amused."

Alessandra snorts, shaking her head with a roll of her eyes. "Yeah, Kassi.
  That's exactly what I heard. Mmhmm." Again her attention returns to her
  sweetroll, intent on finishing the second.

Saskia walks in from the bowl.

Pierron nods thoughtfully as he eyes the junior queenrider.

Kassima grumps, folding her arms, "And now nay even m'own Wingriders will
  defend me. I can't imagine what I did t'be deserving this." Still, her
  eyes do dance as she looks back at the bronzerider. "If'n I conceed the
  last, will you expect me t'give up the two former? G'deve, Saskia."

Sayra props her chin in her hand and grins. "I don't even have a
  reputation- consider yourself lucky." She unprops her chin at Kassima's
  greeting, and looks around. "Saskia!" she greets.

E'vrin assures her, "Don't expect you to give up a thing you don't wish
  to, as usual." The greeting tugs his attention around, and he sits up,
  all proper-like. First impressions and all. He nods to the newcomer.

Alessandra waggles her fingers at Saskia, offers a greeting, though it
  sounds more like "Hmmf Sffkiff" then "Hi, Saskia."

Saskia waddles in, clutching her flight jacket tightly around her.
  "Evening Kassi. I really should get some warmer maternity clothes." she
  starts to say, then turns and sees her cousin. "Hello Sayra." she smiles
  "Glad you could come visit. How are you?"

--
Chestnut brown hair forms a glossy halo about her head, falling in a
  straight line to brush the edge of her square jaw. Olive tanned skin
  limns the delicate contours and high cheekbones of her mobile face.
  Bright periwinkle eyes gaze with keen perception and a glint of mischief
  while a freckled upturned nose softens the stubbornness of her chin, and
  her mouth often curves into a quixotic smile. Broad shoulders and hips
  define a tall solidly built muscular frame, while fluid smooth movements
  and calloused hands reflect her life as a rider. Her voice is a
  well-modulated alto, its correct diction, and precision reminiscent of a
  Harper's. She appears to be in her early twenties.
Diamante crystals set off the warmth of her skin, sewn about the silken
  scarf that softens her white dress' square neckline and adds sparkle to
  the practical sprigged cotton. The sleeveless gown drapes from a fitted
  yoke, drawn briefly into minute pleats just beneath her bust, from there
  expanding smoothly over her burgeoning belly; its hem swirls over just
  the tops of sturdy black boots. A few more crystals adorn the combs that
  draw back her hair, and a Telgar junior weyrwoman's knot is pinned to
  one shoulder. 
--

"Become proddy. Decapitate a wherry while proddy. 'Twill give you a
  reputation for a lifetime," Kassima assures Sayra, "or has in my
  experience. You always have been generous t'me, Ev. I can only assume
  'tis where Kris gets that part of his nature."

Sayra waves one hand in the air, non-commitally. "Alright. Sorry I missed
  the Hatching- Eleyna wasn't feeling well and refused to be out of my
  sight."

E'vrin rests his cheek into a fist's prop and gives Kassima the benefit of
  some amusement of his own, caught in mouth's wide curve. "Uh-huh. And
  nothing from his mother? Speaking of self-deprecation, Wingleader--"

Sayra hehs. "After some of the things I /have/ done, and still haven't
  gotten a reputation from, I can't imagine that anything would... even
  that."

You say "Oh, Sayra, don't tease us with intimations." His eyes go round
  again on her. "What have you done? Tell us a story!"

Saskia waves to Alessandra "Hello there." then her gaze is caught by the
  bronzerider's motion, she tilts her head towards him, and arcs an
  eyebrow. "Hello." Her gaze flickers to Kassima and then back to E'vrin.
  "E'vrin, is it?" She gives him a wider smile than perhaps such a first
  meeting warrants. "Welcome to Telgar Weyr."

Sayra opens her mouth as if to comply, and then closes it again. "There
  was... no, I'd better not. Or maybe... no..."

Kassima leans to nudge her shoulder against his. "The eyes, remember? The
  eyes and the hair, and the rest belongs t'you. Nay even that? Oh, surely
  that. Riders from all corners of Pern have come up t'me t'be asking
  about the wherry head. Do tell, though--nay fair of you t'be teasing us
  with mention of exploits if'n you won't describe!"

E'vrin gives Sayra a disappointed moue he quickly smooths out, suave (or
  at least well-trained) as anything, for the queen rider. "And you must
  be Saskia? I'm not sure we've met, but it's a pleasure, weyrwoman. Would
  you like to join us?"

Sayra scratches her head. "Well- there was the time that K'tel and I
  streaked the LC together- way back before he was ever even wingleader.
  It was all S'jan's fault though, I swear."

Saskia lumbers over to Sayra and sits down rather heavily next to her.
  "Oh, that's alright. I quite understand. It's noisy enough without a
  fussy child in tow. And then I got detained afterwards anyway and missed
  my parents, and some of the feast anyway. I hope Eleyna's feeling
  better, and that's why you're able to be here now."

Oh, dear. Watch Kassi choke. "Streaked the LC?" she repeats, incredulous.
  "And you've nay gotten a reputation for *that*? All right, I conceed:
  if'n *that* won't do it... for what 'tis worth, I've certes never done
  such a thing."

E'vrin notes thoughtfully, "There /was/ that pink outfit you wore in here,
  Kass--ah, Wingleader."

Saskia surely must have answered E'vrin's question in deed, if not in
  word. Perhaps the wild stories floating about distract her from her
  usual politeness. She giggles. "Oh, that was the best bet of my entire
  life!

Sayra nods. "Well enough that Katany could have her back, anyway. It's
  been a trying month or so for her- she doesn't really understand what
  happened to her Papa- not /really/, anyway."

Kassima covers her eyes briefly with a hand. "Oh, for Faranth's sake.
  *Kassi*, 'tis, E'vrin. Ask L'cher, ask V'dan, ask Leya, ask C'row, ask
  G'rignr--call me Wingleader outside of Fall or drills and I'm apt t'hide
  you." Not serious, though she tries to sound thus. The eyes, as always,
  give her away. "As to that, they *paid* me. And you gave me kiwi. What
  could I do?"

E'vrin protests, "I'm being polite. It's what I do. But -- as you will.
  Kassi. So, if kiwi's enough to get you to wear pink in public, what must
  we give you to see you streak? Sayra, did anyone pay /you/?"

Sayra shakes her head. "Nope. Just dared me."

E'vrin screws his mouth to one side, perhaps ... considering.

Saskia nods slowly. "We all heard about Libeth of course. Rare for one to
  go without the other. I'm sorry for your loss." A pause long enough to
  be suitable, then "It was a bet, E'vrin. Kassi can't resist a good bet.
  I forget what would have happened if she won. Many marks, I can only
  suppose."

You say "For her island, yes. Can't blame her there, weyrwoman."

"Be polite, then: call me by name. Formality gives me a rash." Kassi eyes
  the bronzerider with a wary humor. "Oh, I don't know. Twenty-thousand
  marks *might* do it, but only if'n 'twas allowed t'be wearing m'hair
  loose. Saskia, we're thinking of different episodes, methinks--the
  pink's what you paid me forty-seven and three-quarters marks for, wasn't
  it?"

Sayra nods briefly to Saskia before turning back to regard Kassima
  speculatively. "Obviously, I was underpaid for my time."

Saskia laughs "Oh, that's right! My memory's getting as bad as Rinath's.
  That's right. I collected marks from everyone in the Weyr. Greatly
  increased Kassi's ability to buy riders for her amusement, but it was
  worth it."

E'vrin lets more of his head's weight rest against his propped fist, and
  his eyes half-lid somewhere between Saskia and Kassima. "Let me
  remember, again, why I wanted to transfer here...."

Saskia hrms. "Well, Sayra, if you can get a collection going, then you can
  raise quite a few marks."

Sayra grins at E'vrin. "You missed cold weather?"

Kassima agrees with serenity, "It more than paid for Leya, though it
  didn't make much of a dent in m'own price. And *I'sai's*--well, 'tis a
  good thing this last Hatching sent a shower of marks into m'cap, is all
  I can say. How much *did* they pay you, Sayra?" Turning a mock-wounded
  look on E'vrin, she protests, "I thought you *liked* the pink."

Sayra chuckles. "I didn't get anything. Well, S'jan wouldn't have paid,
  anyway, and K'tel went with me, so he wouldn't have paid anything."

E'vrin responds solemnly to Sayra, "I missed my family." And to Kassima,
  not quite as solemn: "Ah, but those were the days of being out of my
  mind for love with you, if you'll think back. What did I know?"

Saskia smiles brightly at E'vrin. "I'm sure you have a very good reason
  like to inveigle yourself into the good graces of the richest woman on
  Pern."

E'vrin demurs with a bare wave of his free hand. Of course. Wise Saskia.

"What *did* you know, indeed. I warned you that 'twere mad," Kassi
  reminds, shaking a finger at him in remonstration. "That you wouldn't
  believe me at the time isn't m'fault. 'Tany rate, the pink is safely
  buried now, never t'be used again, and thank the first queen for it."

E'vrin mouths 'coward' at her, then ducks.

Sayra considers. "I don't think I've /ever/ worn pink."

Kassima aims an elbow at his ribs rather than a thrown roll at his head.
  "If'n 'tis so brave t'wear pink lace, then *you* do it. Don't, Sayra. A
  more ridiculous color than was on that bright, nauseating lace has never
  been invented."

E'vrin answers gaily, "I'd look rotten in pink, but you, Sayra -- you must
  try it. It's a lovely hue."

Saskia's eyes glaze over momemtarily and then she mmms "Speaking of
  queens, Rinath wants a bath, and seeing as how she hasn't had a good
  scrubbing in ages, I'd better oblige her. Please excuse me." She pushes
  back from her chair and lurches to her feet. "I hope you can stop by
  again, Sayra and we can talk more. I'd like to hear more of those
  stories."

Sayra chuckles. "Night, Saskia- take care. I'll get back when I can."

Sayra glances down at her rather plain and well-worn clothing. "Hmm. Pink."

E'vrin murmurs a farewell to Saskia, then grins and nods back to the
  Igenite rider. "Pink."

Saskia nods and says cheerfully "And I'll try and visit Igen soon. I've
  been nagged at to get out more, now that I can." She waves, "Goodnight
  Sayra, E'vrin, Kassi." and with that she waddles out.
Saskia walks down the short tunnel and out into the bowl.

Sayra shakes her head. "Red, maybe. I don't think I'd wear pink."

Kassima warns, "Don't listen to him, Sayra. Pink's a hideous color, worse
  by far than white, and white's never been a favorite of mine. *Red*,
  now, is one of the finest of shades."

You say "Ah, well. Different tastes for different people, I suppose."

Sayra ponders. "And ivory's all right. Better than white- white's so..
  stark."

Alessandra offers to anyone listening, "Purple and black are the two
  greatest colors anywhere." So saith she who wears nothing but those said
  two colors. "Ivory's okay, I guess, but white is really pretty too, just
  not for everything."

Sayra offers, "I like blue and grey best."

"Bland," Kassi agrees, leaning back in her chair. "Apart from which, it
  doesn't suit me. I don't think I'm vain, but looking like a wraith isn't
  m'favorite pastime."

E'vrin maintains diplomatic silence, fiddling a bit with a wing-patch on
  the tabletop.

Sayra peers at E'vrin. "Would you wear pink?"

"Sure," is E'vrin's prompt reply. "Why not?"

Sayra grins. "Just checking."

You say "/I/ am open-minded."

Kassima makes a face at the bronzerider. "And you're saying I'm nay, I'm
  supposing? Deny now that the pink looked silly."

Sayra mms. "I suppose it depends on the shade of pink, and the design..."

E'vrin looks up gravely at her; there's no humor now about him, nor any
  other focus while his words last. "You -- looked wonderful." And away
  again: "It does, Sayra. Doesn't everything, though? So many varieties..."

Alessandra just makes a sick little face, then dumps her plate and cup in
  the dish bin. "I just can't stand pick," she remarks to no one in
  particular, laughing softly to herself. "Now if you'll all excuse me..."
Alessandra walks towards the inner cavern.

Kassima was not expecting that, and eyes at once startled and dark rest on
  him several moments before she likewise turns. Not, however, without the
  hint of a flush and a murmur of, "Too kind. Thankee." Then: "Pink *lace*
  looks silly in all colors, for lace is a ridiculous frill. Some shades
  of pink are better than others, though, certes. And rose quartz is a
  lovely stone."

E'vrin volunteers, "I saw some nice lace fans being offered around, down
  South. Some trading clan's venture."

Sayra nods in agreement with that. "True. I dunno though- pink just
  doesn't seem like it fits... me. Not in color. Just in.. image."

"Image," Kassi repeats, "and nay color? I'm nay certain I'm following
  that. Fans, alas, aren't something that's oft needed up here."

Sayra shrugs. "When I think of pink, I picture little girls in frilly
  dresses, or fragile Holder lasses all dressed up for snaring a husband.
  Not a 35-turn old rider, all scarred and turning gray," she ends with a
  grimace.

E'vrin turns his attention to her. "I don't think of that, either, when I
  think of you, Sayra." Humor, warmth spasm his expression. "Remember all
  the help you gave me in Sharath's early days? Hunting, forsooth?"

Sayra chuckles. "I remember."

Kassima snaps her fingers and points to Sayra. "There you go. Frilly
  dresses and Holder women, neither of which I am or you are. 'Tisn't that
  you're as old or unattractive as you make yourself sound, but still,
  'tis nay a match."

E'vrin resigns himself with, "Ivory, then. Not pink."

Sayra thinks on it. "Ivory... I could see a nice ivory gather dress- it
  would be good for Igen's heat."

Kassima quirks a half-smile E'vrin's way. "Why don't you wear the ivory,
  m'dear? 'Twould suit you more than I, with that darkened complexion of
  yours. Likewise in your case, Sayra. Just beware the lace. It itches."

E'vrin admits, "I did pick up a new Gather outfit. It's white, though."

Sayra chuckles. "Could get some sisal lace crocheted..." she muses. "That
  wouldn't itch."

You say "And it sounds pretty."

Kassima's eyes widen. "Oh, do tell? You'll show it to me, won't you, when
  you get a chance t'be wearing it? I'd like t'be seeing." A faint
  nose-wrinkle follows. "I suppose. Lace still seems rather frilly t'me.
  But given how I indulge in stones and whatnay, I can't poke at those who
  prefer other ornament."

Sayra grins. "Well, there's lace, and there's lace. Once of my aunts
  crochets some really nice stuff- some wide, some narrow, for collars or
  banding or whatever. She puts in patterns of leaves and things like
  that. It's pretty nice."

E'vrin lifts his head from its prop and gestures vaguely with both hands
  between the two women. "It's -- white. I don't know. A formal ensemble,
  the weaver called it. Blouse, overtunic, trous, boots..." He thinks.
  "There's bone on it. --Then get some of that and show it to our
  disbelieving Kassi, Sayra."

Kassima repeats, "Bone?" Surprise registers. "Bone. That's a new one on
  me. 'Twill just have t'be seeing; I'm sure it looks stunning--don't know
  when the next Gather's due, though. I can't say I'd mind seeing this
  lace, though I don't think there's any winning me over to the lace side
  at this late date."

You say "Perhaps with the next baby? Soften you all up."
E'vrin prepares to duck again.

Sayra pulls her gloves out of her pockets. "Well, I'll see if she can
  spare me any- it's rather popular, and takes her awhile to make." She
  laughs. "Careful, there!" she advises E'vrin. "I'd best be heading back.
  Things to do in the morning."

This time, Kassi *does* snag something--a piece of bread--from a nearby
  plate to throw at him. "What next? Isn't five *enough*?" she demands
  with affected horror. "Clear skies t'you and Vilyath, Sayra, hey? And
  duties t'Igen and her queens, a'course."

E'vrin ducks, laughing, and echoes after, "Yes, yes, clear skies to you
  and yours, Sayra. Lovely to see you again."

Sayra shrugs into her jacket and waves. "Clear skies to you, too. Say hi
  to.. oh, well, whomever, for me, if you run into anyone I know over
  here. Nim, especially."
Sayra walks down the short tunnel and out into the bowl.

Kassima waves after Sayra with a departing call of, "'Twill do so,
  certes." And then, only then, does she cast an amused *look* at E'vrin.
  "You're wicked tonight, just so y'know."

E'vrin murmurs, "Ambient influences," and folds his hands primly atop that
  wing patch.

[Relog:]

"Are you suggesting," Kassi wants to know, echoing the gesture, "that you
  are in the presence of someone wicked?"

E'vrin asks, direct, "Am I?"

Kassima ripostes, "Doesn't that depend on your definition of wicked? You
  tell *me*."

E'vrin smiles wearily. "If only I were up to sparring, I would. I'm sorry;
  never mind. I opened something I shouldn't have."

Kassima shakes her head, reaching a hand to rest on his shoulder a moment.
  "'Twas facetious, m'dear, nay more'n that. Weariness is certes
  understandable for you. A long day, 'twould hazard it's been."

E'vrin confesses, rather muffled, "'Long' everything." A space, a silence.
  "I'm to say hello to you from my healer group, by the way. They asked
  why I was coming here; I said it was for family and friends. They wanted
  to be known to them. Polite sorts, you know. Young. As I said often in
  the letters."

"Well, if'n there's aught I can help you with...." Kassi allows that
  silence to reign, then, for its duration. "That's good of 'em, aye.
  'Twas glad t'be hearing that they all seem headed towards happy endings;
  those are rare enough, and should be distributed t'good people."

E'vrin glints a look at her. "I think, sometime before I left, that Viva
  and Yasmila came to a friendly agreement, you could say, between them --
  and it /didn't/ involve B'silam."

Kassima's eyes widen, black brows arching 'til they're nearly lost beneath
  her hair--and then laughter escapes, though she hastens to try and
  stifle it. "That," she decides, "is priceless. Poor, poor B'silam, hmmm?"

E'vrin lifts his shoulder. "He'll find another, and it's his fault for
  being oblivious to his sister-love, I'd say. They're happy -- all happy,
  as you noted -- and I'm ... all right." He drops his chin a little, with
  a slight smile. "Tired, though. I may creep out on you, before I fall
  /asleep/ on you."

"I don't know if'n I'd blame him for that; he couldn't have been expecting
  sibling affection to carry that far," Kassi protests, though
  half-heartedly. "So long as they're happy... and you're all right, which
  is the best 'twould expect, methinks. Shall we both take our leave? I'm
  in need of sleep m'self, and that way there's nay guilt for either of us
  for running out on the other."

"Fair enough," E'vrin answers, "on all counts. As always, O wise
  wingleader." He pushes himself up slowly and immediately rests his
  weight on one foot, wincing. Tries to smile, though; waves. "Lead on."

Kassima grimaces and reproves, only half in jest, "When have I ever been
  wise?" Concern flickers in green as she looks at the other leg, and
  offers him an arm. "I do, however, try t'be fair. When it suits me."

E'vrin hesitates only a breath before accepting the support. "Thank you,
  and you're wiser than you give yourself credit for, as usual," he
  banters, if breathlessly. "--I /must/ remember to get up early enough to
  soak in the hot springs before sweeps tomorrow, or was it drills? I've
  forgotten already."

Narilia walks in from the bowl.

"If'n you can be self-depriciating, then so can I, though this is naught
  of the sort." Kassi does head for the Bowl then, slowed enough to remain
  a steady support-source. "Drills, drills. I spare people sweeps on their
  first day in the Wing; isn't that nice of me?"
Kassima walks down the short tunnel and out into the bowl.

You walk down the short tunnel and out into the bowl.
--
Southern Bowl(#396RDJL$)
Towering above, the bowl wall rises in a curving three-pointed arc as it
  shelters this southernmost point of Telgar Weyr's great caldera. Sloping
  down to the north to a slight degree, the floor of the bowl has been
  channeled so that runoff might drain down to the lake beyond. There are
  several strategically placed evergreens that serve to baffle the biting
  mountain winds away from the southern entrance into the living Caverns.
  The first few spring flowers are blooming in pots, and what weeds there
  are have a renewed, clean color. The smell of spring comes in on the
  west wind. Northward, the center of the bowl spreads hugely, leading to
  the feeding pens, hatching grounds, weyrling barracks and the Telgar
  Weyr lake. The ground-level weyrs of the queenriders dot the mountain to
  the northwest. Use '+view queenriders' to view them. The bowl is quiet
  in the depth of night.
The evening is clear, with a few small clouds crossing the twinkling
  stars. Through the whispy clouds you can see the stars. The smaller
  Belior shines in half moon while Timor winks as a waxing crescent. A
  strong wind blows past and the spring air is cold. 
Contents:
DRAGONS: (Prometh) (Jaereth) (Xylath) Lysseth 
PLAYERS: Kassima E'vrin 
OTHER: Hole in the Bowl
--

"Ha," says E'vrin politely. "I'd rather sit on Sharath's neck for hours,
  thanks." He leans more heavily on her, with only a dragon to see.

"Well, if'n you *wish* t'fly sweeps, I can oblige," Kassi offers
  magnanimously, and takes the liberty of curving an arm around his waist
  to make herself more lean-against-able. "Where's that bronze lunk of
  yours, anyway?"

E'vrin points towards the central bowl. Thataway. "Perhaps I'll just hole
  myself in the springs and not go to either sweeps /or/ drills. Hmm?"

Narilia comes out of the short tunnel from the living cavern.
Narilia walks north.

Kassima has to think for a moment, but does allow, "If'n your leg's nay up
  to it after the moving process, that can be done. For one day. The
  sooner we can be getting you accustomed to the Wing, the better,
  particularly in spring. You'll be all right getting to him, then?"

E'vrin stands still a moment, listening. "--Yes," he says then. "I know
  this ache; it's just from sitting in one position too long. I'll stretch
  it out before bed--" he turns a smile, bashful, to her "--and be up
  bright and early for drills. Count on me, Kassi."

Kassima returns the smile with one of her own, tinged with shyness, and
  steps back and away. "I shall. And shall look forward t'flying with
  you." Though those words have the ring of Wingleader formality, the next
  strictly Kassi and sincere: "'Tis good t'have you here, Ev. Good t'be
  seeing you again."

E'vrin allows himself the brightness from his first sight of her, then he
  dulls dutifully into polite old bronze rider. Though -- he does lean
  forward and, while she's being Kassi, brush a kiss against her cheek.
  "Sleep well," he says and turns to trudge, halting, towards Sharath.

Kassima brings up a hand to rest fingertips against that cheek for a
  moment once he's turned. "Dream sweet," she calls back, before taking
  the shorter route to her own lifemate's side.

[Everyone home!  Log ends.]