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Starry, Starry Night


Date:  May 7, 2008
Place:  Dawn Sisters Tavern
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:  Kassi wants to go and apologize to Cyme for R'din's 
proposition, so she does; she finds the young Starcrafter in the Dawn
Sisters Tavern of all fortuitous places and A'deth soon joins them 
there.  The greenriding pair doesn't *really* corrupt Cyme--clearly 
a purr lurked under her surface all along. ;)

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The Log:

You walk through the open doorway and into the tavern.

Cyme is seated deep within the tavern, her tall, spare frame settled into a
chair at a small corner table. Offsetting Igen's cool spring night, the
small inferno within the fireplace crackles merrily, accenting the loud but
congenial conversations of its patrons as they discuss various things -
craft and non-craft alike.

Kassima ducks from the no-light of outside to the low light of the tavern,
and once there, hovers within the entrance--hopefully not blocking anyone;
she has manners enough to keep to the side, anyway--to get a look at a
place vaguely familiar. "Haven't been here in Turns," she muses to herself.
"'Twould be a fine coincidence if'n Trie were about too, but I shouldn't
count on that." She threads through the tapestry woven of talk, pausing
here and there to puzzle over overheard words like 'astrolabe,' 'azimuth,'
and what in the world is a 'perihelion,' anyway? It's a somewhat frazzled
greenrider who finally spots her quarry. "Igen's duties. Cyme--heyla--tell
me you aren't in the middle of a debate about wavelengths of light or
something? I can't imagine mixing that stuff and alcohol."

Lysseth> Jaelith senses that Lysseth extends a line of thought over some
distance. Her crystalline mindscape is brilliant, unusually, with stars;
whimsical tribute to her location perhaps, since she says, << We've come to
the Starcraft to look for the young apprentice. She's been good enough to
be found in a bar, so my Kassima wonders whether you and yours would like
to join us? >>

Once spotted, Cyme jerks her head up to the bearer of that female voice -
appearing to wince just a smidgen when, yes, it's identified as belonging
to Kassima. No flush stains her cheeks this time, except for the one
leftover from her slight roasting by the sun, and the young woman inclines
her head gravely, gesturing the greenrider over with those long, thin
digits. When close enough, she murmurs to Kassi in the liquid soft voice,
"Starsmith's duties, m...Kassi." A small shake of her head. "I just got
done talking with Berint and Trezzi about tangetal eccentricities and orbits."

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Jaelith's is as it almost always is: the
lingering chill of a tranquil winter night, the gleam of moonlight on snow
and cold water. << If the apprentice gives her permission, my rider says. >>

Wince for wince: Kassi's watching the younger woman's expression, so she
catches it and is that much more awkward. But since Cyme is beckoning, she
stuffs her hands in her pockets and crosses the distance anyway. "Is that
like the Red Star and Long Intervals?" she hazards. "Or that'd be
eccentricities of orbit, wouldn't it. D'you mind if'n I sit? Or if'n A'deth
joins us; this being a bar, and he'd meant t'catch you the other day too."

Cyme is a study in quiet moderation - a tall statue cast in alabaster -
only her eyes showing hints of what's within. "It's related, but only
on...a tangent," she offers up with a very dry try at humor. Another small
shake of her braided head. "I don't mind." A small nibble at her upper lip,
then, "Just you and A'deth?"

"That," Kassima announces, after a beat to appreciate the horror of the
pun, "is awful." Drawing out a chair, she settles onto the edge of it. No
comfortable slouching just yet. "Certes nay R'din," she says, wry. "Only
us. 'Tis all right? I'm here in part t'be apologizing on Igen's behalf, nay
that I have any authority t'do that."

A small twist of thinner lips in something that'll have to pass for a
smile, then Cyme ducks her chin just a moment before answering, "Yes."
Blink. Confusion touches her features for a few moments. "You haven't told
the Weyrleaders how...awfully I behaved?" Collecting her thoughts quickly,
the starsmith nods almost formally to Kassima. "I accept. Please accept
mine for..." Yes, -for-. For running out like a silly holder girl.

Blink. Blink. Kassi's eyes get a little wider, and she rocks back an inch
in that chair. "How awfully you behaved? Did you go kill all the ovines in
the feeding grounds after you ran out or something? What I saw wasn't awful
behavior of any kind on your part." The rider shakes her head vigorously.
"'Tisn't aught the Weyrleaders need t'know about; 'tisn't any fault, and
'tisn't aught you need t'be apologizing for, shards."

Cyme appears just as surprised as Kassima does, blurting back, "But I
almost -slapped- him..." Him. You know, R'din, her wide eyes seem to tell
the greenrider. It's then that the vibrating mass known as Cyme relaxes,
her body slumping just a bit forward in relief of inner tension. Her gaze
falls from the rider's to the tabletop, and her next words are scathingly
self-deprecating. "I should act better than that. I'm not a silly girl, to
faint at mentions of...things like that."

A'deth walks in from the hallway.

"Personally I'd have had nay problem with you slapping him, but 'tis
probably as well you refrained--rank issues." Kassima grimaces. "Like your
friend who kneed the Journeyman, a bit. He wasn't serious, by the by. He
asked you be told that if'n one of us saw you a'fore he did." There's a
second headshake, no less vigorous than the first, and she leans forward
slightly to emphasize her earnestness. "You didn't do aught wrong. He
picked a very bad time t'be making that sort of joke--and didn't make it
clear enough 'twas a joke, methinks. You're an Apprentice, why should you
be expecting t'be dealing with propositions when you go visiting?"

A'deth, just arriving, catches the tail end of what Kassima was saying...
and paces towards the two women. And though he's prone to looming, with all
that height and his stark black clothes, he does his best to make himself
inoffensive-- he makes no effort to hide his limp today, or his fatigue --
look, he's easy to outrun, right? -- and his expression is simply concerned.

"He didn't?" Cyme asks Kassi, her tone almost child-like for a second, an
echo of her blush from the previous day just touching pale skin. "I...I
didn't mean to overreact. I mean, I've been teased before that way by boys
-here-. Never bothered me..." A small swallow, and she leans in secritively
towards Kassi's ear, murmuring something in a shamed toned. But then
there's that not-meaning to loom tall form, and the young crafter sits
upright, more proper again. "Sir. Starsmith's duties," is given to A'deth.

Cyme mutters to Kassima, "I never... of... before...before I looked..."

Cyme whispers "I never thought of men that way before...before I looked at
a rider."

Kassima is half-expecting to see A'deth arrive--which doesn't mean she
doesn't perk up anyway; and she raises her hand to flag him over, although
it's not necessary. "I've just been saying t'Cyme," she tells him, "that
she didn't do aught wrong in leaving as she did that evening. Sit with us?"
A quick glance to Cyme asks for her permission, too. "You didn't know him.
I thought he meant it, I can't blame you for thinking so. You didn't
overreact, you didn't shame yourself, or your Craft, or Igen." The
murmur--that she smiles a little for, and lowers her voice to answer.

A'deth inclines forward in a very courteous half-bow. "Igen's duties.
Apprentice Cyme," he says softly. "I hope that you're doing well today? And
if you says that it's all right," he adds diffidently, as if their ranks
were reversed, "I'll sit, but not before." Of the murmuring, he says
nothing at all.

Cyme senses Kassima's smile is a slightly rueful, altogether sympathetic
one. "Some of 'em do radiate their masculinity as hard as they can. And
some of 'em are worth thinking about. Don't be embarrassed--why
embarrassed? Faranth forfend there ever be aught *wrong* about nay having
much experience with men, or chasing after 'em as some do."

A small bob of her pale head and a light pat of the one leftover free chair
offers permission to A'deth - her gauzy eyes winking with hints of pleasure
at his more than congenial politeness - and then Cyme is all ears for
Kassima again, except for a soft "Please do" for the arriving greenrider.
"I...I didn't tell anyone here about it," she confesses quietly to the both
of them. "I didn't want to make a rowe." And then the other woman is
whispering to her, and a teensy hint more of a blush colors her throat,
though the crafter actually gives up a little smile before whispering back.
Just as politely, when she's done, Cyme offers that bit of a smile back to
A'deth. "I'm sorry about the clandestine whispering, Sir. Girl talk."

Cyme whispers "But I...for just a moment, I found myself wanting his hands
all over me. That was wrong."

"For Igen's sake, methinks I'm glad of that," Kassi says wryly. She keeps
her voice down as well. "I'm thinking most of the men there wouldn't have
sprung a proposition on you that way just then. We may be a den of vice and
iniquity in our own special way, but we have manners." Deadpan? Why, yes, a
smidgeon. There's a slight pause to follow before she mentions hesitantly,
"A'deth might know something of... hmm... how 'tis t'have men showing
interest that way." How's that for delicacy?

Cyme senses Kassima drops her voice further. "Nay wrong. I'm thinking you'd
do better t'get t'know a man first, and a'course there are rules--but
feeling desire or attraction isn't *wrong*."

A'deth sits. A corner of his mouth twitches up with some amusement at both
of their words. "Most of my paramours," he explains gently to Cyme, "Are,
and have been, men.I am probably quite familiar with, ah, girl talk. And
yes--" And he frowns faintly, but not at her, and without anger. Just
thoughtfully. "Casual flirtation's common at a Weyr, it's true. But most
men -- and women -- have the sense to leave it at that with someone who
isn't Weyrfolk, especially with an apprentice. Persistent unwelcome
advances are exceptionally rare at a Weyr, just as rare as anywhere else.
They're not condoned, and they are not acceptable. All you need do is say
'no'. Even R'din, silly as he is, would undoubtedly restrain himself if you
did."

Cyme presses fingertips to her lips again, a trickle of hissing giggles
just barely managing to spill out when Kassi speaks of 'vice and iniquity.'
"Riders have certain priviliges, given how much danger you're in..." the
crafter notes wryly. Her expression alters to one of quiet consideration,
perhaps even curious daftness when the woman mentions A'deth. Duuuh..."Oh!"
Squeak! "Oh..." An only slightly pink-cheeked nod as she finally does the
algebra in her head. Another quick, but thoughtful nod for Kassima's
whisper, and she's listening to A'deth with a certain aire of intense, if
clinical curiosity. "I know there are some...uh, women and men here of
that...prediliction," she volunteers gently to the man - trying to be
thoughtful in her own ignorant way. "It is? I mean, I -know- Weyrs aren't
dens of corruption, like some sillies would have them be. But...ohh..." she
murmurs, nodding to the man as her world becomes that much the less narrow.
A sudden, subtle shift in features, and the young woman tells A'deth in
firm tones, "Then please tell R'din that I forgive him, since he was only
joking. I just...overreacted."

Kassima shakes her head slightly. "We haven't any privilege t'be hitting on
Apprentices. Hitting on each other, that's anyone's privilege who's nay
married, or barred from it by rank, or... but Weyrfolk can be a bit
forthright about it." A quick grin for her own understatement. "As A'deth
says, and if'n R'din or anyone else didn't refrain, nigh anyone nearby
would help you. Our vice is usually of the consensual sort. I don't know
R'din 'tall, but I'm thinking he meant nay harm--'twill pass that along
if'n you like." This seems a good time to ask, "Should I get us a round of
drinks?"

A'deth nods to Cyme. "As you wish." And to Kassima-- "Yes, please, I always
want a drink. Something mixed? You pick. Something appropriate to my level
of consumption." IE, no sissified drinks for his reprobate self. "Will I be
buying, if you're fetching?"

Cyme appears not only relieved, but in much better humors now that all's
been spelled out and smoothed over, her slight smile peeking out like a
hesitant sunrise. "I meant privileges in consensual indugences, like you
said, but I should've been clearer. That's the problem with words. They can
be so inadequate at times. Now -math-, that's clean, perfect, utterly
understandable." A near record blurt of those avowed inadequate words for
the starsmith, and then she too responds to the offer of a drink after
A'deth has asked for his own. "I'd enjoy a bubbling wine and juice mix,
please." A soft sigh of rare self-indulgence breezes through her lean
frame. "I -love- wine. Any wine, even the bad ones."

"I'm hoping they still make the Nova. Surely they do. It's been an age, but
nay sane bar gives up a good drink mix--" Kassima flashes another grin,
this one to both, and leaves for the bar without answering A'deth's
question. She's juggling three drinks when she returns: one bubbly and
light, two... not. Guess which is for whom? "You can repay me later," she
assures A'deth in the brightest of tones. "I love wine also! Nay that much,
though. Tillek Swill, I loathe and fear and bury deep beneath the sand
where nay anyone will have t'so much as look on it, ever. You really need
t'meet m'son, Cyme. He'd understand you perfectly."

A'deth shudders. "Life is too short to drink swill. Benden wine is a
faithful lover; it'll never fail you, never give you much of a headache,
and never, ever, leave a bad taste in your mouth. Which is more than can be
said for a lot of human lovers, really... I've never had to spit out Benden
wine. ...Kassima, didn't you Impress at Benden?" And he calls to the
bartender, "Just hand me the tab before we leave, thank you!"

Cyme rummages in a soft velvet pouch that appears on the tabletop in her
hands - and then appears guiltily consternated for a moment. "I thought I
had enough left over from last month to pay for mine. Would it be possible
that I can owe you, Kassima? Or, A'deth?" Notice she -doesn't- deny herself
her tipple, though, accepting it with a look A'deth would likely
understand. To Kassi, "Oh, Tillek is bitterer than most, but with a certain
food and a certain mood, it's okay!" Blink. "You have a son? Oh, of course
you do," she chastises herself. "You just look too young to me to have one
of drinking age. I'd enjoy meeting him, ma-Kassi." Her little smile grows
into a truly rare full one, the reserved young woman utterly enjoying her
company and the drinks. A deep sip of her drink, and she's just swallowing
when A'deth goes all suggestive in the grammer department. And suddenly
Cyme's hacking, coughing loudly as her bubbly delight goes down all wrong -
violet eyes bulging with the intensity of it.

Kassima arches a brow sidelong at A'deth; the far corner of her mouth wants
to lift, and twitches against her suppression. "I'm hoping that remark
shouldn't worry me. Some of m'favorite drinks leave me collapsed
unconscious on the Lava Lounge floor--but there's something t'be said for
that every now and again. Oh, fine, *don't* repay me, spoilsport!" A laugh,
a toast of her glass, a sip, and she nods to the last question, "I did!
When Benden Hold still looked to it, and y'know how the drinking song goes.
'We are, we are, we are, we are, we are from Benden Weyr; we can, we can,
we can, we can demolish forty beers." Isn't one sip of one drink a bit
early for her to start singing? Maybe a second sip will rectify matters. Or
would, if she didn't half-choke on it. "You're very kind," Kassi tells
Cyme. "Nay correct, unfortunately, but very kind. I've several sons.
Several daughters, too. Only Kris, though, is obsessed with mathematics.
Oh, dear." The rider gets out of her seat to aim a thump or two at Cyme's
back, if the apprentice doesn't move or wave her off. "Are you all right?
Don't break the Starsmith, A'deth, her Master might nay let me look through
his farviewer anymore."

A'deth opens his mouth to say something, and then considers them both,
visibly trying to be very good. Cyme's already choking, does he want to
asphyxiate her completely? ...Of course he does! "I'll let you view mine.
You'll see many stars, I assure you. And don't worry about the tab, either
of you. I just sold a piece -- art, art, nothing terrible, you libertines
-- and am flush with marks."

If Cyme were capable of responding with anything more than gagging coughs,
she would, but Kassima's swats on her back are gratefully accepted - the
smith's form felt to be rather bony around the shoulderblades. Gasping for
breath amidst a few more rounds of rough coughing, the young woman slowly,
finally gets her innards back under control. A quick lift of a cloth napkin
to her watering eyes and nose also manages to happily cover a face not
-only- red due to coughing and sunburn. "Faranth!" she fairly barks out,
giving A'deth a -look-, then waving Kassima back to her own seat. "Thanks
-cough- Kassi." Blink. "You're originally Benden?" Yes, the facts age
Kassima considerably. "I wasn't born yet... Is it true about...the
devestation?" she inquires gently. "Kris. Oh! I thought you meant he was
alike in his enjoyment of wine." Her giggle isn't held down, this time.
"You -have- one?" the crafter almost squeaks from her raw throat to A'deth?
"How did you manage to aquire a distance viewer?" Is that a little jealousy
in her tone?

"Can I get that promise in writing?" Kassima is not the master of the
purring tone A'deth is, but there's a certain rich amusement there that's
kin. "I'd say something here about all-night viewings and a crick in the
neck when one is done, but I'm trying t'behave m'self at least a little
bit." Failing, but trying! "Congratulations on selling--t'whom? What did
you paint?" She stays by Cyme until sure the younger woman's coughing is
under control. Sinks back into her chair afterwards, bobbing her head
agreeably. "You're welcome. Devastation... it seemed devastating enough to
us." When her eyes become vague, it has more to do with memory than
Lysseth. "Benden's still there. I rode there again between Telgar and Igen,
and these days 'tisn't in such awful straits as 'twas. But--the Lake turned
t'mud. The hot springs toxic. You couldn't support a full Weyr there; you
still can't. I'd like t'see m'Weyr take back some of its territory and
glory in m'lifetime, but I don't know whether 'twill happen." She switches
topics to one more pleasant, so to speak: "He does," she assures
cheerfully. "He's skilled in its use, too." Total failure on this behaving
thing.

"A holder and his wife. You wouldn't /believe/ what... well, you might.
People get bored on those little farms, is all I can say. I had to sign an
agreement never to tell who it was, so I am sworn to secrecy about all the
salacious details." And A'deth looks momentarily virtuous. To Cyme, he says
apologetically (but without regret), "Though it's magnificent, ah, viewing,
Kassi's the only woman who gets to see it now, my dear. You'll have to find
one of your own." And about Benden, he pauses, and says much more soberly,
"You may yet, Kassima. You've got a lot of lifetime yet, and Benden's
always been full of the best kind of people-- resilient, resourceful. If
any weyr can become great again after such a calamity, it's Benden."

Cyme is still rather the innocent sheep among wolves in this crowd, and so
misses Kassima's likely undercurrent of mixed innuendo. "You paint, too?"
she inquires of A'deth after clearing her throat, then -cautiously- taking
a small sip of her bubbly. Her smile is gone in sympathy with the former
Bendenite's memories. "I haven't ever been there. I'd like to..." she
observes quietly to Kassi. "I hope it is someday, too." A lift of her glass
to the center of the table. "To Benden Weyr. May she rise from her ashes
like the firebird of legend." A quirk of head to A'deth, and the flush is
trying to creep up on her neck again, but valiantly held back. "You're just
trying to faze me, aren't you?" she inquires of his tale of two holders.
Still daft about said 'farviewer,' Cyme only shrugs, her lips pressed
together a little in her peeve.

And lo, Kassima's eyebrows do climb up Mount Forehead, there to stay while
visions, unfortunate visions of the unspoken details dance beneath them.
"Make me drink more t'blot out images and you're only increasing your own
bill," she reminds A'deth. However, what he says of Benden--the banter is
banter; the play is play. The look in her eyes, the subtle softness of her
expression and the way she, for a moment, clearly sees nothing but him...
he already has her heart, so to praise her home is not so much a way there
as a way to remind her why. "Thankee," is all she says. Then: back to the
real world. "'Twill take you sometime if'n you please," she offers Cyme,
"I've a daughter and son still there, so I've plenty of reasons t'visit."
The greenrider raises her glass. "To Benden Weyr."

A'deth admits wryly, "They wanted me to paint their grandchildren. Their
very large herd of very restless and very young grandchildren. I hate
toddlers. I did leave the trail of drool on the one, but it's barely
noticeable. I do have my artistic pride. But I drew the line at the
kittens." His gaze lingers on Kassi's when she speaks, and his expression
softens a little, too. He lifts in glass, and echoes her toast in a fine,
ringing voice: "To Benden Weyr!" And several of the other patrons grab
their glasses and do the same!

Cyme seems flushed with something rarely felt outside her craft, inner
depths of pride and stirred blood brought about by the mass of people
calling out their memories of and loyalty to Benden. A soft cough, and then
the crafter drinks deeply, swallowing down the odd lump in the throat. "I
would...enjoy that very much, Kassi. Please don't trouble yourself though,
unless your time is free." Her reaction to A'deth's horribly sordid tale of
kittens and disgusting grandchildren elicit another giggle - the woman
quickly wadding up and throwing her napkin at him. "Naughty greenrider!"

Between the earlier softening and the pride that now lifts Kassima's head
and straightens her spine--at this moment at least it wouldn't be hard to
think as Cyme did that she's young. It's tricky to smile and drink at the
same time. Somehow she manages. "Thankee," she repeats quietly after, and
the smile is still there. "'Tisn't any trouble, Cyme. Let me know when
you've the time and we'll go, and 'twill show you the Star Stones. A'deth,
you're the absolute living end. As I'm sure you're very well aware!"

A'deth is bapped with the napkin, and he lowers his glass, and raises his
hands in surrender at both of them. "I do my best. You're both smiling,
though." Which pleases him most of all, even more than the drinks, or
potential salacious deeds.

Cyme gifts that rare smile to Kassima, her eyes telling even more of her
deep pleasure. "Maybe I could convince my Master to let us take along one
of the lesser viewers when we go. It'd be wonderful to see things closer."
More hints of giggle-snickers at A'deth are pressed back behind her
fingers, and even the usually serious starsmith must acquiesce to his
point. "Yes, and I'll have you know, it's a rare enough condition..." Cyme
informs the man wryly.

Kassima is the more pleased to have pleased the Apprentice, so their table,
just now, could be fairly called a small bastion of pleasure. And all of it
innocent! "I often do, somehow, where you're involved," she says to
A'deth--and yes. She grins. "D'you see, Cyme; his mind is absolutely
scandalous, his jokes could sometimes make Fax blush, he's a Weyr man
through and through, but a good one with a very fine heart. There's much
t'be said for men. Some men. Much t'be said for smiling, also. If'n 'tis
rare then it shouldn't be."

A'deth actually flushes very, very faintly, and turns to cover it by
murmuring, "Oops, look at my glass. It's empty." Almost. "I'll get us
another round." And he rises, and heads for the bar.

Cyme seems more able, now, to appreciate the special tie between the two
greenriders, her smile turned a little shy and a little warm-fuzzy, too as
she nods brightly to Kassima. "You two are how I'd like to be when I find
my husband. Not just boring happy, but...interesting and fun happy." Again,
those words fail her, and she seems just a bit flustered with her lack of
verbal smoothness. "Too bad math can't find a grand equation for love."
A'deth slight flush seems to humor the young woman more, for she replies to
him as he stands, "I'm glad to see -your- face looking like mine, for a
change. I shall remember this rare moment."

Kassima's blush is a trace deeper. Her grin becomes a little
self-conscious, a little silly too. "I certes do nay think I'm ever likely
t'be bored. Happy, certes. 'Twill endeavor t'see that he can say likewise."
She can speak of farviewers and honorary manhood with aplomb. It's on this
subject that the hint of shyness creeps in, not entirely hidden by that
so-suave, so-casual way she sips what's left of her first drink. "'Twill
say from m'limited experience of any good kind, that love's nay so neat or
tidy or ordered as math--or anywhere near as logical. Isn't it a pretty
color?"

A'deth returns, three glasses in hand, and he sets them down. His face is
back to normal, and he says with utmost dignity, "Treasure it," to both of
them. And, to Cyme, "This is a Benden White wine." His and Kassima's new
drinks are more of the same. "Far better than anything else, except perhaps
a Benden Red... but the white gives you even less of a hangover." The talk
of love, he doesn't address at all.

"Not with a...a saucy man like that!" Cyme giggles softly, flicking long
fingers out in A'deth's direction. A deep sigh, and she notes a little more
soberly, "Somehow, I thought riders of the same color of dragon wouldn't be
attracted to each other. And now I realize that's just as silly a belief as
thinking Weyrs are all dens of iniquity." A shy little smile. "I think you
two are so sweet together. And very -not- boring." A quiet hint of
compassion for a fellow female, but Cyme's too circumspect to inquire of
Kassi's unhappy former relationships. "Mhm, it give him some cute
highlites," she notes in answer of A'deth's blush. There's that tiny
smirk-smile again. "I think he's even fairer skinned than me," she observes
lightly, offering up her own near alabaster pale arm for comparison. And
then A'deth has returned, and Cyme gives him one of her little head bobs.
"I shall." That seems to cover both the treasuring and the wine, the second
of which she gives a little whetting of her lips at. "I rarely have
-anything- Benden. It's so expensive. And tonight I'm graced by one of its
vintages AND one of its former dragonriders. I'm deeply reverent."
Listening to her, seeing her features so serious, one cannot think she's
anything -but-. "Thank you, sir."

"Lysseth was mayhaps happier in a way when I romanced bronzeriders,"
Kassima admits, after a pause to think and choose her words. "At the time.
She certes doesn't have any impulse t'curl up and be lovey-dovey with
Jaelith. That doesn't affect who I'm attracted to--thankfully--the only
place dragon color's mattered much t'me is that sometimes flights sped
things along. In retrospect, 'twas nay the way t'go." She takes up her new
glass, flicks a grin to its bearer in all his dignity. "You, a'course,
would know of wine." Of course! And she drinks, rather than go off on more
lovesick tangents; though her murmured, "Thankee," to Cyme and
still-present smile suggest she's pleased. "You may be right. Alas,
m'skin's given up some of its pallor to the Igen sun, so I can't challenge
anymore. Thankee--" How many times will she say that tonight? And mean it
each time, this time almost embarrassed if honored too. "Another reason you
have, then, t'be visiting Igen again. We get Benden's wine tithe; we can
always spare you a glass."

A'deth undoes the cuff of his right sleeve, and holds his arm out-- very
white, where the red scars don't luridly mar it, the veins at his wrist
quite blue. Clearly, despite the weyr that he looks to and the Igenite
drawl he's picked up, he doesn't sunbathe. What he speaks of, however, has
nothing to do with skin tones. "Kassima and I are entirely unsuitable for
each other... I suppose that's why we get along. If I'm fortunate, our
affection will last for the rest of my days. If not, then I will have been
blessed with many of my fondest memories. I can't ask for more than that."
Despite the words, his tone is quietly matter-of-fact, even restrained. For
whatever reason, and despite his bawdy ways, about deep emotion he seems
disinclined to be effusive.

Cyme gives a slight hint of a smile to Kassima, quirking her head in
interest to not only the woman's offer, but A'deth's paler-than-pale skin.
"You're welcome..." she murmurs softly to the other woman, "...I'd...be
very pleased if maybe you could spare me a -tiny- glass now and then when I
visit." Goodness, she didn't even hint at being -forced- to visit, this
time. A long, dedicated stare goes to her arm and the man's - side-by-side
- both of them telling of little time exposed to sunshine, Cyme's own veins
showing blue, too. "I think it's your Igenite outfit that keeps the sun
from you," she contemplates. "And pulling the night rotation most times,
for me. That, and I'm inside mostly." Nothing like comparing pallors. Then
that arm is moving slowly, it's attached hand and fingers picking up the
glass of divine white wine as if it were rarer than a star, the young woman
looking deep within the golden-white liquid. A soft sigh, then a little
sip, and she's tasting it for a long moment - eyes shut in inner ecstacy.
Swallow. A tiny tremble. "Sublime..." she purrs, almost like A'deth.

Kassima is unquestionably more effusive than he; something in her wants the
whole world to know when she loves and is happy. At least in the early
stages. Odd match, you bet. And yet here they are, and she says only, for
the ears at their table alone, "Your fortune in this is m'fortune. Your
blessing, m'blessing. We do have something in common." Now it's time to
lean in a little and regard the compared arms. "How interesting. I've a
sudden compulsion t'haul you both off t'Boll for awhile, which 'twill
kindly ignore, but mostly because here I have someone picking up the tab."
Watching Cyme experience the glory that is Benden wine, she once again
states the obvious: "I'm thinking that she likes it."

"When it's hot," A'deth explains quietly, "I can't sweat very well." And he
redoes his cuff, and then moves to carefully stroke Kassima's hair. "And we
do have that... and I see that we've a reprobate in the making." He sounds
quite approving of them both, really, humorously for Cyme, and tenderly for
his lover. His smile is faint, but it's mirrored in his gaze, which has
gone very green indeed!

Oh indeed, Cyme is flushed again, but this time it's with the taste of
something so rare for her that it might as well be a farviewer. Those vilet
eyes open again, and for a moment seem to take in her outer world as if
it's intruding. As it is, she registers only the latter part of Kassima's
words - staring down at her arm, then shrugging. "I got alot of sun a few
times. A little bit at a time. All I ever did was burn and look like a
steamed spiderclaw." A soft snort at A'deth's thoughts of her, and she
observes, "I don't often get a drink when i come in here. Not alcohol,
anyway. Besides the strict rules for apprentices, I know I'd drink wine
until they'd likely have to drag me out." A look into those green, green
eyes of the man, and Cyme finds herself inquiring, "If I can be
forward...do dragons always choose the opposite gender? I mean, outside of
flights, since those are purely to try and reproduce." She rubs a little at
her brow as more thoughts consume her. To both Kassi and A'deth, "I've
heard dragon personalities are very individualistic - kind of like humans'.
So, if they don't even think about mating most of the time...well, then why
-wouldn't- they curl up with each other and enjoy the company? Male to
male, female to female." Beat. "Of course, if there are some male dragons
like some men, they probably don't want to snuggle with -anything- outside
of mating." Seems when it comes to thinking and learning, even Cyme can
fairly babble.

"Your influence, a'course. I've never made a reprobate of anyone!" Kassima
leans into the touch, her eyes, always green, alight with the combination
of amusement and deep affection. "You get t'be explaining it to her Master
when she purrs at him. Did you think of going into Winecraft?" she asks
Cyme. "Always choose--oh. I expect it depends on the dragons. Lysseth's nay
very cuddly in general; she has her favorites, usually mates at one time or
another. She might curl up with them if'n they offer her a wing. A green or
gold, never. A male who hasn't caught her, or who she might nay rather like
t'have catch her, rarely. Some are more sociable. By her report male
dragons tend t'like having something green t'wrap themselves around, but
I'd nay assume future mating isn't 'tall on their minds then."

"Jaelith has a fancy for young bronzes," A'deth comments. He leans against
the side of Kassima's seat, slightly, and continues to pet her hair. "She
seems to like Lysseth's company, since she's mannerly. But dragons don't
really care, one way or the other, whom they like to cuddle-- mating's
always with the opposite sex." And he considers. "Is her Master handsome?
I've sworn off Harper Masters, but Starsmiths might be entertaining. If I
debauch him, too, then he can't complain too much, can he?"

Cyme gives that little smile-smirk again at thoughts of the pleasure wine
can bring her, and she observes wryly to Kassima, "The masters already know
of my love affair with wine. That's one of the reasons why I'm cautious
with it." A deeply considering turn of mind, and then the woman has to
shake her head once. "I developed my love too late in life to change
Crafts, I think. And sadly, there's no real reason for a Starsmith to
crosscraft to the Vintners. Unless my calculations can suddenly start
providing augeries for abundant harvests." Her own face is the deadpanning
one, this round. And then she's sipping her vintage delicately, listening
to what her questions bring out in each of her tablemates. "I guess, in the
end, it's entirely up to them then, hmm? Yes, they both sound like very
decisive ladies." Another sip, and DAMMIT! A'deth's doing it again! This
time, Cyme's gagging cough is partially supressed, the woman gulping down
her wine instead of spraying it all over the table and her two fellow
drinkers. "Shards!" she gasps a few moments later, then coughing again -
levelling a finger at the man. "Evil!"

The hand of Kassi's that's not holding her drink finds a place to rest on
A'deth's back, lower back since that's what she can easily reach. "I don't
think Lyss has ever had much of a thing for a brown," she muses. "There was
Adonith, many Turns ago, for blues. She doesn't mind sharing a ledge with
Jaelith--rather a good thing, too, all told; there just isn't any
neckridge-nibbling and tail-twining and draconic innuendo going on." Yes,
even the dragons are innuendoriffic! To Cyme, "I don't know whether t'be
suggesting you seek a posting at Benden Hold when your time comes or nay.
You'd be at Winecraft, you'd have the wine, but is it right of me t'be
suggesting you sneak around on your true love, the stars, with your
mistress the grape? It really isn't m'style." Straight-faced through this,
she breaks into open snickers at A'deth's last questions and Cyme's
reaction to same. "Oh! Well! There's logic! I couldn't say whether he's
your type, or whether you're his. Nay something we discussed when I was
pestering him for use of... um. Given the earlier conversation, let me
start over. When I interrupted his viewing? Faranth, nay, that doesn't work
either...."

A'deth just drawls blandly, "Perhaps we should /all/ go look at his
distance-viewer." And he looks insufferably smug.

Cyme is massaging her throat a little at this repeated violation of its
muscles, nodding politely to Kassi while still trying to give A'deth the
-eye-. Cough. "So, your two ladies are both...bronze inclined, then?" she
murmurs back to the other woman, trying to give the man no further reason
to make her hack up a lung. An almost droll little hint of a smile. "Sadly,
I think that's how it would be, Kassi. But...now that you mention it, maybe
I -will- look into trying to get posted to Benden." She sounds so serious.
Is she so easily corruptible? (Tune in at 9!) Another waggling-point of
finger at A'deth. "You leave Master Branik alone, you naughty man." Quite
sober, that admonition, and to ease her slightly rasping throat, she lifts
her glass of wine again to her lips. And it's only then that her mind
finally figures out that old innuendo of farviewers... Thankfully, this
time, there's no spitting and hacking, since the vintage didn't quite reach
her mouth in time. No, instead, Cyme just frowns and buries her face in one
hand, rubbing at it.

Some of Kassima's redness is blush, some of it's ill-suppressed mirth.
Which will win? Well, it's Kassi. That's not exactly a question full of
nailbiting suspense. "Three people can't all look through the same
farviewer at once, A'deth!" Trying for prim, chastising, but that
underlying thread of snicker doesn't help. "In flights," on the dragon
topic, "Lyss doesn't seem much t'favor any color; outside of 'em... aye,
she was fond of bronzes upon a time. She keeps more t'herself now. And for
what 'tis worth, I do promise, my interest in the Master's farviewer has
always been an interest in his *farviewer*."

"I was serious." A'deth actually has the gall to sound miffed, though not
seriously so. "I remember -- I think it was you, Kassima -- saying that
you'd not looked through one yet. I haven't in at least thirty Turns. It
seems like a reasonable outing. It should be dark soon enough."

Cyme gives a sigh, one of being taxed for too long, and simply listens to
all the talk with a bland expression. Finally, after downing the rest of
her white in record time, the starsmith speaks up again. "-If- you two are
willing to keep your...innuendos to yourself, I think I can manage to find
room for two more upstairs at my station tonight." A lifted finger. "But I
warn you, we don't tolerate silliness going on around the instruments.
Especially the big 'viewer I'll be at this time." Yep, she's all serious
crafter again, and rather like an older sister chastising two younger
siblings.

"I refuse t'feel terribly guilty for suspecting otherwise." Kassima may
feel *slightly* guilty or at least sheepish, however. "I can make that
promise. Nay innuendos spoken aloud. Nay silliness, nay playing with the
big far... the instruments."

A'deth considers Cyme closely. "Maybe," he murmurs, "Maybe we'll go
tomorrow. You might just end up being the silly one tonight, what with two
drinks in you already."

Cyme looks relieved when Kassima promises good behavior - hopefully -
nodding pleasantly to her. But A'deth, well, he gets a dual lift of brows,
and then a very sober, "Sir, it would take at least two more of those
wonderous glass to get me unsteady. I...um...found that out turn's end."
Seems the scrawny gal has a certain tolerance. "But, whether I host one,
two, or none is up to the both of you."

Once again Kassi's brows lift--her story-sense is tingling! But just now,
at least, she doesn't ask. "Where work's concerned," she says, "I've a
hunch you're pure business, and nay silliness 'tall. I'm game." She glances
to A'deth, tilting her head to the side.

A'deth gives them an abbreviated bow, deferring to them both. "Then we
shall go, and I will be on my best behavior."

"I'm sure you know how t'handle yourself around a big farviewer." Kassima
couldn't quite resist. "And that's m'last innuendo about that, truly."

Cyme allows a tiny smile to touch her features. "Yes ma- Kassi, I am. Since
we can't reproduce the farviewers like the ancients could, we have to be
nothing but serious around them. It takes hours to set them up, too, so you
could imagine the ire when a bumble upsets eveything." And did A'deth just
promise, too? Whew! "Well then, please let me escort the two of you to
Master Brakis' office to check all of us in, and we can be stargazing
within a quarter-hour." Her last words are laced with a certain thrum of
bliss - silky cool and sibilant - as if she might almost be addicted to her
craft in some strange way. What innuendo? Cyme is already standing like a
wraith and floating along on a wave of delight only she can feel - her eyes
no longer on her two friends, but looking out and up as she beckons them on.

A'deth's little smile is simply, sweetly, demure, and he follows them out
with no comment at all. Of course, if he can't speak his thoughts aloud...
they must be very wicked indeed.

Uh-huh. That smile would probably be why Kassima is so openly amused,
trailing out behind Cyme in all her addicted glory only after she's
polished off the rest of her glass: the stars await, but that's no excuse
to waste alcohol.