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Satchel Full of Bourbon


Date:  February 9, 2001
Places:  Benden Hold's Tasting Hall, Courtyard, and Skyspace; Telgar
Weyr's Skyspace and Southern Bowl
Game:  PernMUSH
Copyright Info:  The World of Pern is copyright(c) to Anne McCaffrey 
l967. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a registered copyright.

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Kassi's Note:  The title here's pretty random, but then, this is a
relatively random log, put up because it's a pleasant scene rather 
than because it's important per se.  On a visit to Winecraft to buy
birthing gifts for I'sai, Ceria, and Alessi, Kassima meets up with one 
Emelei and ends up stocking up on cheap liquor and then giving the 
poor, fleeced young woman a lift back to Telgar.  I had a good amount 
of fun with this. :)

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The Log:

You open the double doors and step into the tasting hall.

Evina nods a greeting to Kassima. 

Emelei is towards the back of the room, in front of one of the long, marble 
counters, kneeling down to stuff a wineskin into her pack and frowning at it 
in concentration. "Shardit, get...in... there, no!" She sighs, tugs the skin 
out of the pack again, mutters a rather dire phrase at it, then goes back to 
stuffing. So deep is she in her dilemma at hand, she doesn't even realize 
she's proabably right in the way of anyone trying to get around her.

Kassima nods right back to Evina as she ducks through the heavy double 
doors, a satchel over her shoulder, a hide in her hand, and purpose in her 
eye. "Duties," she calls to the hall, mostly-empty though it might well be 
at this late hour, "t'the Winecraft and her Masters, and g'deve." Pause. She 
can't really help but notice Emelei's dilemma, even at this distance, and 
insatiable curiousity bids her wander closer. "Would it be rude t'be asking 
what you're trying t'stuff?" she asks, and quite politely too.

"Stupid, sharding..." Beep. Beeep. Beep. The next few words are censored, 
yes indeedy. Emelei starts to pull back her arm to send the wineskin flying, 
then pauses to peer up, eyes widening, arm still frozen in mid-toss. "Huh? 
Oh! Aw, no," she sighs, wincing, then stands up and clears her throat. 
"Duties, ma'am," she offers apologetically. She courts doom unknowingly, 
poor kid. "No'm, I'm just supposed to take this wine with me, and it's -not- 
fitting in my pack. So of -course- my mother thinks I should take all this 
crud with me," she sighs, rolling her eyes, then clears her throat as if 
remembering she speaks to a stranger. "Er, can I go get anyone for you, ma'am?"

Kassima's black brows sweep upwards in mild appreciation of this cursing. 
"D'you hang about with sailors often?" she can't quite help but wonder. And 
wince. "Ach, I'm nay a ma'am. I'm Kassima, green Lysseth's, technically 
affiliated with Telgar, and I'm neither old nor respectable enough for 
ma'aming. If'n your mother tells you t'pack wine, methinks she's a lady I'd 
appreciate. Any chance you could find someone t'carry the extra alcohol for 
you, where you're headed?" The greenrider isn't beyond craning her neck just 
a little to try and get a glimpse of whatever's in that pack, either. "Oh, 
well, I'm nay certain--I'm here t'be looking for some liquors, a'course, but 
if'n nigh everyone's asleep I'd nay want t'be disturbing 'em."

"Sailors?" Emelei looks truly confused for a moment, before a certain glint 
of glee touches her eyes and she glances about furtively. "Only when Mother 
isn't around to haul me away from them. They at least let me do something 
-useful-," she all but spits out, then has the grace to look mildly abashed 
at her tone. "Er, yes, m-...Kassima. Sorry about that. Mother means well, 
and it is good wine, but I've already got a skin of brandy and a skin of 
white in there, and herbs and cookies for grandmother, as if she can't find 
her own. Grandma's -hardly- helpless," she starts to ramble again, then 
hesitates and peers at the ceiling, almost with a pained look of realizing 
her rambling. "I'm supposed to go find the watchrider when I'm packed, 
actually. I think...um, mother's still awake? She's a journeywoman, could 
she help? She's putting the baby to bed, though. I could try to find 
something, if you like? I know where the stores are kept."

"For the cursing," Kassi supplies, amusement intensifying her usual lilt. "I 
won't ask what the something useful they let you do is, methinks. I'm such a 
generous soul that I'd gladly offer t'take that wine off your hands, but I 
could just picture your mother or someone else storming out t'smack m'hands 
for even thinking of it." She wiggles her free fingers to simulate agonized 
twitching. "Oh--*distant* journey, then? The watchrider might be willing 
t'help you. Trust me, they get people with lots of luggage all the *time*; I 
served a stint as one." Her eyes fall to consult the list she's holding. 
"If'n you happen t'know where 'tis... I'm looking for a spot of peach brandy 
for m'self, and a very good Benden White--or mayhaps some of that bubbly 
wine. I'm nay certain. 'Tis for celebrating births with, y'see, only the 
kids aren't *born* yet, so I guess it's t'hold 'til they are or t'celebrate 
virility with instead."

"That? The cursing?" Emelei shifts slightly in her stance, frame losing just 
a hint of adolescent prickliness in a bit of relaxing, and an honest smile 
appears. "Wow, usually I get glow duty for a sevenday for getting caught 
saying those things. I tell you what, I won't try to smack your hands, 
and...um, I'm not sure where the peach brandy is, but I can get the rest, 
sure. Celebrating births is always a good reason," she agrees with a sudden 
grin. "I need to get another skin of white anyway. Mother says Telgar's 
colder than here, so I guess it's better safe than sorry. I'll be right 
back," she assures, then turns to pelt off to the storage caverns, gone 
several moments before she returns with a handful of skins to offer over, 
obviously having run the entire way. "Will these do?"

Kassima promises with an attempt at solemnity, even raising one hand for 
effect, "I shan't tell anyone, in that case. Doesn't bother me; I say plenty 
that's worse, and m'eldest daughter does too, for that matter. I applaud 
your creativity, rather." She bites her tongue on her question until the 
younger woman's returned, asking it instead as she accepts the 'skins one by 
one and examines the labels, "'Tis Telgar you're going to, then? Hold or 
Weyr? Either way, she's right; they aren't the Icy Wastes for nothing. If'n 
'tis Weyr you're headed towards, I can give you a lift back and spare the 
watchrider if'n you like... hmmm. These two will do," she decides, singling 
out a pair. "I don't know m'Whites as well as m'Reds, but I recall that this 
was a good Turn for 'em. Question is, what's the price?"

"Really? I thought ladies weren't supposed to...Mother says that they don't. 
She says that a -lot-," Emelei realizes with a vague frown, then a 
headshake, before considering the winesking again critically. "Hmm? Oh, 
Telgar Weyr. My grandmother is a midwife there, I'm supposed to go foster 
with her until I'm eighteen," she explains absently. "Mother would probably 
haggle with you, but she'd let you bargain down to a mark for all of it. 
Maybe three-quarters of a mark at the lowest. I can put the payment in the 
coffers, even, if you like?" Her eyes widen then. "You'd give me a ride? 
Hey, thanks! Yeah, the watchrider would probably be -thrilled-. He likes the 
quiet, and, well, I'm not. So I hear."

"Probably nay," Kassi agrees without reserve, "but then, I'm nay lady; are 
you? Three-quarters of a mark for all... that's nay a bad deal." If one knew 
Kassi, one would know those words--and the thrilledness that briefly lights 
her eyes--are not at all good signs, but when one *doesn't*.... "I'll take 
'em," she decides, and sets 'skins and list down to fish amongst the rounded 
mark pouch. "Three-quarters, you said? A hard bargain," and she says that 
perfectly seriously, too, "but I can manage it. Certes, if'n you don't mind 
riding Lyss. She isn't the smoothest flier in the world, but she's fast, and 
we've nay problems with a lack of quiet. Five bairns gets one kind of used 
t'that."

"Me?" There's a derisive snorting sound as Em tosses hair out of her eyes, 
stuffing her hands briefly in her pockets. "Not -hardly-. Not if I can help 
it. Spend all day sewing and cooking and fluffing up? No thanks," she 
exclaims, but the smile returns easily enough as she accepts the partial 
mark-piece and ambles over to tuck it into a locked box. "Mind? Riding a 
dragon? No, m-Kassima," she corrects without a pause. "No way at all. The 
faster the better," she adds with a brief glint of further delight and a 
slightly feral grin. "Do we get to really go *between*?" she wonders, then 
pauses in surprise. "-You've- got five children? You're not old enough," she 
points out, tone one of simple surprise rather than flattery.

Kassima bobs her head as she confirms, "We absolutely do; too late at night 
t'be flying straight, and too long besides. *Cooking* isn't too bad, now. It 
just depends what you cook. Me, I like killing animals and cutting 'em up 
for the pot." She's perfectly matter-of-fact about this: yep, perfectly 
normal hobby here. Riiiight. The eyebrows jump up again then; she laughs, a 
note of delight working its way in. "Y'know, methinks I'm going t'like you. 
If'n it helps any, the youngest two are twins? But the eldest's about your 
age, so, sadly, I have t'say with regret that I'm indeed old enough."

Emelei sighs with a nod, stooping to think for a moment, then finally just 
tucks her own extra wineskin under an arm and fastens the pack as it is to 
haul it over one shoulder. "Oh, sure, hunting's great. Sometimes I can get 
out with a crossbow, but not always. The bolts are too expensive to waste on 
a girl," she adds with a grimace. Yeah, she probably loved that comment. She 
can't help a grin then, almost sheepish. "THank you, I think? Sorry, I like 
going fast. The faster the better. Although you really don't look old enough 
to have a daughter my age. What's her name?" she wonders curiously. No, not 
hopeful at all, her. News of a girl her age in a new and strange place has 
no interest, nope. Too bad she's not near as cool about it as she thinks she 
is.

Kassima tucks her new purchases into that satchel she's carrying, and holds 
out a hand. "I can take that?" she offers. "A bit more, too, if'n the pack's 
as heavy as it looks. And that business about wasting crossbow bolts when 
they're used by women is bilgewater. Cousin Katari--she's a Guard--would 
probably dunk the head of anyone who said that in the nearest latrine." Much 
to the delight of anyone who had to be anywhere near them after that, no 
doubt. "I'll bid Lyss indulge in a bit of speeding, then," she suggests with 
an impish grin curling her mouth. Give her credit; she doesn't outwardly 
show much amusement at this hopefulness, beyond that grin turning 
fractionally more amused than it already was. "Kaylira's her name; Kay, 
she's called. She's fifteen, t'be sixteen in about a month--is that about 
right, for m'guess of your age? Sixteenish?"

"Are you sure?" Emelei wonders, brows disappearing under her bangs as she 
offers over her wineskin. "The pack's fine though, thanks. It's not that 
heavy at all," she assures staunchly. In other words, it is, but she's 
stubborn. She also stares for a moment, then bursts into loud, if 
good-natured laughter. "Oh, that'd be -great-! I could so help with dunking 
someone in a latrine. In a minute," she decides, then brightens. "I'll be 
seventeen in little over a month, actually," she replies, as if this made 
all the difference.

"I've carried worse than a satchel full of liquor a'fore," Kassi reassures, 
dropping one eye closed in a wink as she stows this 'skin, too, with its 
potent potable brethren. "If'n you're sure, then. The Sky-Lady's outside 
when you're ready. I've never," she admits then, a bit wistfully, "dunked 
someone in a latrine yet... I should someday, don't you think? Anyway. 
Seventeen's a good age t'be, if'n the twenty Turns since haven't wiped 
m'memory entire."

"Liquor's a good thing to have around," Emelei agrees philosophically, 
raking her hair out of her eyes briefly, then giving the hall a final look 
around. She's quiet for a moment, even stoic, then nods sharply. "Okay, I'm 
ready to go at anytime, thank you. And you absolutely should dunk someone. 
Have a target in mind? Can I help?" she wonders, oh-so helpfully, then 
stares again blankly. "You're thirty-seven? Shells," she breathes. At least 
she doesn't say that that's just plainly ancient.

Kassima lifts a single eyebrow, schooling her expression into something 
mildly arch enough for S'pock to envy. "A wonder I'm nay tottering around on 
a cane and covered with wrinkles, isn't it?" There's humor there, but it's a 
touch sardonic. Sensitive subject, that. "Perhaps Mart; I haven't done aught 
t'Mart in awhile. Or 'Lex, for the same reason. Or L'cher, just because... 
plenty of targets at Telgar for the choosing. After you," she adds, after 
pulling open one of the double doors, having wandered towards them while she 
spoke.

"Huh? Oh, no, actually, I was pretty stunned, to be honest. I'd have guessed 
maybe twenty-seven. Does not acting like a lady keep you from getting 
wrinkly and fussy like most mothers?" she wonders curiously, blundering 
cheerfully forward into the land of lacking tact, but does start forward 
through the doors, then hesitates. "My name is Emelei, I think I forgot to 
say that, I'm sorry," she adds in real contrition. "I appreciate the ride, 
too," she adds, stalking out the doors without looking back once.

Emelei pushes open the double doors and steps outside.

You push open the double doors and step outside to the courtyard.

"Could be," Kassi agrees equanimably and cheerfully, her good humor restored 
by this reassurance of youthful semblance. "Though methinks it depends on 
what sense you mean *lady*--methinks Lady Holders don't have it so bad; all 
those marks and all. A'course, they're *obliged* t'spawn, which can't do 
much for their lives. At least I spawn by choice. And because I get drunk 
with men too often, but that's another story." She ambles as she speaks, all 
towards the long, lithe frame of the dark dragon who waits. "Pleasure t'be 
making your acquaintance, Emelei; nay worries on the one count, nay problem 
on the other. This," with a slap to her dragon's shoulder, as the green 
lowers her head to investigate the new person with very large, very blue 
eyes, "is Lysseth."

"From drinking? That's not how you get babies," Emelei supplies helpfully, 
almost confused, but rallying well enough. "It takes a lot of kissing and 
stuff like that," she explains, nose wrinkling briefly in distaste. "Anyway, 
being a mother is an admirable thing. Babies are great, if they belong to 
someone else," she decides, then pulls up short to peer up at Lysseth for a 
moement, her own eyes very wide and brown right back. "Er. Um, hello? Hello, 
ah, Lysseth? Hi, I'm Emelei," she offers finally, extending a hand as if for 
a handshake, then closes her eyes in brief self-recrimination. "Right, big 
hands. It's a pleasure to meet you, though," she offers, dropping her hand.

Kassima explains, or tries to explain, and rather vaguely at that, "People 
are more willing t'do odd things when they're drunk, let's just say...." And 
Jh'rin and J'lyn probably do qualify as odd things. Poor guys. "Never 
thought I'd want 'em, but I rather like 'em now. She says heyla," is tossed 
casually onto the end, as Lysseth politely and lightly noses at that 
hand--perhaps not contacting, perhaps only breathing on it, but the idea is 
there--before drawing her head back. "And I'm certain she'd shake your hand 
if'n she could. D'you know how t'be climbing up onto a dragon? Though that 
isn't a cue t'do so," she thinks to warn, "until I'm aboard; Lyss is a 
little finicky about that." The green looks, if anything, rather amused by 
this.

"Oooh, I see what you mean. It's like how new vintners will get all silly 
when they go through their first few tastings, and forget to spit rather 
than swallow," Emelei agrees in complete seriousness and innocence. A grin 
splits her face at the be-nosing then. "Shells," she murmurs delightedly, 
then peers up with a vague shrug. "It doesn't look that hard? I've seen it 
done before," she adds casually. "The watchrider does it all the time. Just 
tell me when, certainly. However this is best for you and Lysseth," she 
agrees rapidly.

Kassima lays one finger along side of her nose. "Precisely so. Only, see, 
the things we'd been drinking were rather stronger, so... someday 'twill 
have t'take you to the Lava Lounge so you can try one or two for yourself, 
though I doubt your mother would approve. 'Tisn't hard, and 'twill give you 
a hand up if'n you need--Lyss being green is lucky; the bronzes, they're a 
pain t'climb up on." Her hands curve around Lysseth's straps as she says 
this, the green having lowered her neck to a comfortable level for climbing.

You place one hand on Lysseth's neck and she warbles down at you fondly. You 
grin and scratch her eyeridges once before climbing up onto her lower 
neckridges, using the riding straps and Lysseth's thoughtfully offered foreleg.

Kassima, once seated in place and buckled and such, adds to her earlier 
commentary, "C'mon up!"

<*> "If it's not a quality red or very dry white, Mother doesn't approve. 
She doesn't approve of a lot of stuff," Emelei adds dryly, then grins. "So 
it sounds like a -great- idea," she decides, then hikes her pack a bit more 
firmly before mimicing the mounting movements with utter confidence, 
reaching for the strap, getting half way up, then falling right back down 
again, on her backside. She glares briefly at the ground, then jumps right 
back up and tries it again, this time struggling to a seat. "-Hah-. Did it!" 
she all but crows, nodding sharply. "Thanks, and yeah, a bronze would be a 
lot harder to sit on, I think?" she wonders, peering down and about with 
fascination.

Emelei takes hold of Lysseth's riding straps and climbs aboard the green 
dragon, who keeps a wary eye on her all the while.

Kassima promises, assures even, quite gleefully, "'Tisn't quality 'tall, 
some would say. Strong alcohol mixed with Faranth only knows what t'make the 
strangest concoctions you ever did see--and the effects! Well, until you've 
seen normally sane people get up and dance on the furniture, you just 
haven't *lived*." This is probably not a maxim most of the world would agree 
with. Lysseth, no doubt instructed to behave, sits as still as she can 
through this jumping and falling; her wings might twitch a bit, but that's 
more apt to be with inner laughter than irritation. And once both passengers 
are aboard, she lifts her head to its proper height, and likewise rises from 
her crouch into a full sit. "Wider neck," Kassi agrees. "And golds are worse 
yet; you have t'feel sorry for their riders--can you manage the belting in 
all right?"

"Dancing? Like, with waltz music and all that stuff?" Emelei looks plainly 
dubious at this, despite regarding the straps curiously until she seems to 
have puzzled it out and belts herself in. "Although on the furniture might 
be fun. Jumping on the bed is, or it used to be. I hit my head on the 
ceiling now," she admits, then makes a quiet strangled sound at the rising 
up, eyes widening. "Um, yeah, belted in fine," she agrees quietly before 
grinning broadly. "Ready whenever you are, m-Kassima!"

"More like kicking their legs around and doing a lot of unfortunate wiggling 
than waltzing," Kassi decides, after a momentary pause for thought. "There 
wasn't aught dignified about it. Might've helped if'n Th'lon hadn't been in 
his underpants. All right, then--brace yourself," the rider warns, while 
turning to face forward. "Lyss's launches can be a bit jerky!" And, well, 
this is true, as the green sets her weight on her haunches only a moment 
before jumping into the sky with a flurry of wingbeats.

<*> Lysseth springs from the ground, the air from her wings churning up dust 
as she takes to the skies.

Launching off the ground with your legs, you soar into the air with powerful 
sweeps of your wings.

<*> Lysseth steadies herself once she's reached a certain height, sweeping 
her wings out to glide in a long, slow circle. "And brace yourself again," 
Kassi quips over the sound of the wind. "Next stop's *between*!"

"In his -underpants-? What happened to his pants?" Emelei wants to know, 
then yelps without warning at the launching, then falls silent for a moment 
before caroling a rebel-yell of delight. "Wooohoo! Look at -that-!" she 
delcares, peering down at the ground, then ahead into the wind. "Byyyeee!" 
she calls at the watchrider, waving vigorously, then clamps a hold on her 
straps, grinning like a madwoman. "I'm ready!"

"He took them off!" Kassi replies back with all the logic she can muster, 
given that she's yelling about underpants up in the sky. Lysseth, at a 
signal from her rider, takes a straight-line path once she's finished her 
circle, flying faster... and faster... and faster--until, once the wind's 
surely enough to draw tears from the eyes, she blinks *between*.

<*> Lysseth disappears into Between.

Between
You gasp as the icy black nothingness of Between surrounds you! You hear 
nothing, see nothing, and feel nothing. The trip takes five heartbeats...
Black...
Blacker...
Blackest!

You suddenly emerge...

<*> Lysseth emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

<*> From the South, From the Telgar Star Stones, L'klal's burnished bronze 
Pteynth rears on hind legs and bugles a greeting to green Lysseth and her 
rider, Kassima, welcoming them home.

Emelei is already yelling by the time *between* ends, not just in startled 
shock, but also in delight. "Faster! Faster!" she encourages, not daring to 
bounce in her seat given the circumstances, well that and she's shivering up 
a storm, but at least still grinning madly. "Shells, let's do it again!"

<*> Lysseth roars back into the world of sight and sound much further above 
the Weyr than she would usually be, needing the extra clear skyspace to slow 
down from her breakneck speed prior to her descent. The bugle she gives 
Pteynth in return is almost demure, coy. He didn't see that, did he? Of 
course he didn't. "Just a wee taste of what the fastest green in Telgar can 
do," Kassi calls over her shoulder, trying for blitheness but failing since 
she, too, seems gleeful for the trip. "Another time, mayhaps! Shouldn't push 
Lyss too much this late in the evening--nay that she minded, did you, 
Sky-Lady?" The rumble that vibrates the neck beneath them would seem an 
affirmative. "So, then: down we go!"

You fly downwards towards the southern end of the bowl.

You fly downwards towards the bowl.

Emelei doesn't seem terribly disappointed by the lack of another pop 
*between*, but instead makes various jubilant noises all the way down to the 
ground, punctuated by her teeth clacking together at the landing, then a 
snicker. "Okay, that was fun. And a -whole- lot faster than any runner, 
that's for sure," she decides amidst the shivering, and tries to unstrap 
herself with shaking hands, despite the cheer. "Thank you, Lysseth, Kassima, 
this is gonna be the biggest day ever, I know it."

<*> Lysseth has the grace to make her landing fairly dainty, though 'fairly' 
is the key word; there's still certainly enough force for a clacking of 
teeth. "Lyss must like you--she's nay fussing about being compared to a 
runner," Kassi teases, the unseriousness of this clear in voice and dancing 
eyes. "You're welcome from my end, and you're welcome from hers." She 
doesn't reach to assist with those straps, though she's clearly prepared to 
do so. "D'you know where t'go from here, t'find where you'll be staying?"

Emelei murmurs her thanks for the assistance, then peers over to consider 
the best way down for a moment. After pondering, she swings one leg behind 
and over, then slides down on her backside to hit the ground on her feet, 
having to run a few steps forward to keep her balance. "Um, I think so? Is 
that the living caverns?" she wonders, pointing at a group of weyrs. 
"Grandmother lives beyond them, with the resident staff. She's not really a 
crafter, see, but I think it's just as good," she adds affably.

Emelei climbs down from Lysseth's neckridges with the help of her riding 
straps, looking grateful to be back on the ground. Lysseth eyes Emelei for a 
moment, rumbling quietly, before turning her attention elsewhere.

Kassima shakes her head, and points towards a different entryway, not the 
largest but possibly one of the best-lit. "Through there," she instructs, 
"and you should be able t'find your way; I can be showing you to the 
Residents' Quarters if'n you like, or you can likely find 'em on your own... 
oh! But in either case, don't forget this." She tugs Emelei's wineskin from 
her satchel and leans down to offer it, Lyss lowering her head again to 
assist with the maneuver.

<*> Emelei stretches up on her toes to accept the skin, nodding earnestly. 
"Thank you, very much. Okay, that one, I'll head in there, and if I can't 
find at least grandmother, I'll find something. Thanks for everything, 
Kassima, this makes getting here a lot easier, to say the least. And thank 
you, Lysseth," she adds, smile going wicked again. "You ever want to go that 
fast again, just let me know and I'll be -there-," she assures brightly. 
"Goodnight, both of you, though. And -thank- you."

<*> Lysseth curves her neck to offer a warm whuff of breath in the young 
woman's direction: "You're welcome again," Kassi translates in her 
entertained fashion. "You should most definitely find something. Food, if'n 
you're hungry--feel free to filch a bite or two; there's always plenty. You 
*are* very welcome, and 'twill look forward t'seeing you about the Weyr." A 
grin is her reply to that, followed by a salute of no seriousness 
whatsoever, before she signals Lyss aloft with a last yell down of, "G'night!"

<*> Lysseth spreads her wings to their full extent, bringing them down with 
a rush of wind as she leaps nimbly into the air.

You spring into the air and catch the thermals rising from the bowl floor to 
carry you aloft.