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It's Just a Swish To the Left....


Date:  July 30, 2004
Place:  Telgar Weyr's Living Cavern
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:  This log isn't particularly significant, but it does 
feature some fun RP with the Candidates, namely Metri, Amarie, and
Jaleran. :)  Jaleran and Amarie learn about Kassi and Metri's 
marriage, to their bemusement; rock-climbing and rappeling are also
discussed.

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The Log:

You walk past the lintel and into the wide living cavern.

Pierron humphs thoughtfully as the Wingleader of Thunderbolt arrives.

Jaleran walks in from the bowl.

"No thank you," Amarie says politely. She smiles at Metri. "It's not so
bad. You'll get used to Enwi talking in her sleep. It's funny, because if
you talk to her, she'll actually answer you with these strange answers."
She giggles. She's sitting at the Weyrleader's table with Metri.

Kassima hums to herself as she enters, hands tucked in pockets and
red-trimmed black cloak hem swirling about her calves; as per usual, she
pauses inside the door to make a rude gesture to Pierron. At least she
settles for sticking her tongue out at him this time. Then it's on to the
glories that await at the blessed food table, with as much speed as dignity
allows. "Soup, soup, tell me there's a good hot soup... or stew... or some
stuffed mushrooms, I could go for that; or porcine ribs, or spiderclaws, or
aught that's good and *warm*, really. Some rolls would be most excellent.
G'deve and such, too," tacked on as a friendly afterthought.

Metri grins, though it's slightly forced. "Yeah? Well, when I spend an
entire night in there I'll take a shot at that. I won't be avoiding my
chores anytime soon, that's for damned sure." At Kassima's entrance, he
breaks off the subject, reaching instead for some of the cheese and placing
it on his tongue, closing his mouth and letting it sit there while he wags
his fingers at Kassi. "Mmhna merar," he says in salutation, very eloquently.

Jaleran wanders slowly in from the bowl, looking moderately distracted. As
he approaches the candidate's tables he absentmindedly removes his coat and
reaches to hang it on a chair only to miss and drop it on the floor. But
this he doesn't notice as he wanders towards the smell of food. A large
bowl of oatmeal, which he pours way too much molasses into, is tucked in
his arm and he's muttering quietly to himself as he goes back to the table
two over from where he left his coat and sits down.

"Good evening Wingleader," Amarie says politely. She plucks at her
nightrobe again. She looks across to Metri and says, "Well if we go in
there tonight, maybe we can get her to talk about the blue wherry that
someone lost again."

"Right back t'you, sweet wife," says Kassima, letting her lashes go
flutter-flutter. "But that doesn't answer the question of *soup*. Well,
'twill just have t'poke about and find out. Any of you want aught, so long
as I'm here anyway?" She's already reaching for a wooden spoon and a pot
lid, bent on investigation and acquisition.

Metri looks at Amarie in confusion. "Blue...wherry?" And the first thing
that pops into his mind is most certainly not that it's some fake notion.
What comes to mind is completely different, obviously, as he looks slightly
nervous and takes to examining the food on the table. To Kassima, he simply
smiles. "No, I'm fine here, I think. However, you may want to fetch a
bootie, I'm bound to make a mess." He continues the intense look at his
meatroll before he's convinced it's okay and eats it again; not much of a
mess. Jaleran, however, gets a very confused look. "Hey,
ahm...wow...absent," he waves a hand at Jaleran as the man passes him,
frowning. "He's going to squish a table," Metri announces, not without some
glee.

Jaleran starts spooning his oversweet oatmeal into his mouth with one hand
while with the other he starts tracing a line or path or sketch of some
kind on the tabletop. After a few bites he sits up and pats at himself,
then looks confused. He looks down at himself, sees the coat is off, then
looks at the chair... no, not there, either. "Where... ?" He stands up and
looks around, "My coat vanished!"

"Over there Jaleran," Amarie says helpfully pointing at his coat two tables
down from him. "But get it and come over here and join us," she points to
where they sit at what is usually the Weyrleader Wing's table. She shakes
her head at Kassima and says, "None for me thanks." She smiles at Metri and
nods. "Ask her about the blue wherry when she's sleeping."

Kassima draws herself up to her full height, the picture of affront.
"*Still* using the booties for napkins! I don't know why I put up with you.
I swear, if'n it turns out the baby isn't mine, I'm *leaving* you faster
than you can say 'Fabulous Faranth flew a flight of fantastic fecundity.'
Hey! Thin-sliced herdbeast!" All thoughts of Metri's adultery are
forgotten: she has a *sandwich* to make. And a bowl to fill with tomato
soup. Apparently breakfast is overrated. "Living Cavern," is her helpful
answer to 'where.' "Southern Bowl, Telgar, Northern Continent, Pern.
Where'd you have the coat last? Ah, perfection--" Having made the Ideal
Sandwich, she picks up her tray, hooks fingers through the handle of a mug
containing cider, and hauls the whole food melee to the head of
Thunderbolt's table. "If'n coats are going missing, I may have t'keep
m'cloak *on*. I'm fond of it. Is there a reason you're sitting at
Starblaze's table?" she asks Amarie. "Nay that *I* particularly care, mind
you; at this hour, there's space everywhere, but I'm curious."

"Aye, well how do you expect me to get pregnant with another woman, hmm?"
Boy, this could be an easily misconstrued conversation. Putting on an
ultimately indignant expression, Metri sweeps his towel of food up and
demands, "Why do I put up with you?" of Kassima. He leaves the chair out,
glancing to Jaleran. "Aye, have my chair. I'm going to go rest and I can't
do that with my handsome hubby here nagging my ears off." He tucks the
towel back into the pocket of his jacket, yawning, gazing between the
barracks and the bowl, and then finally deciding. "To the barracks," he
announces to Amarie more than anyone, "where there are ceilings and
sleeptalking candidates."

"How can Metri be pregnant?" Amarie wonders aloud. "He's a candidate..it's
forbidden." She turns and regards Kassima, her gray-green eyes looking more
slate colored at this time of the night. "The Weyrleader K'ran was sitting
here earlier ma'am and he invited me to join him to talk about his daughter
Trienne," she says in explanation. "And I've been sitting here since."

Jaleran looks from Amarie to Kassima to Metri... to the chair Metri points
out. "Is my coat there?" He follows Amarie's finger to where the coat is on
the floor, picks it up, takes a rolled up hide and charcoal sticks out of
the inside pocket, then takes the whole mess back to his bowl of
oatmeal-flavored molasses. But before he can sit down and continue whatever
has him distracted, he looks up wide-eyed, "Metri... wha!?" He looks from
Amarie to Kassima, then to Metri as he's (/HE/) leaving the cavern. From
the look on his face, something just broke inside his head.

"You could've been seeing men *too*. You could be seeing runnerbeasts, for
all I know. 'Twould nay put it past you," Kassima announces darkly. "And
*you* put up with *me* because I'm the most beautiful and virile man on the
planet, a'course, and because I write you soppy love poetry and leave it
under your pillow at night, and occasionally remember t'bring you flowers.
I'm a sensitive sort of man. I even knit you *booties*, as you'll recall!
But fine, fine, leave; see if'n I care." Sniffle. Then, to Amarie, she
reasons, "Well, he wasn't *always*... oh, shells, none of that ma'aming
stuff. I'm Kassi. Or Kassima, if'n you must. Explanation enough." She picks
up her sandwich and takes a bite, eyes rolling towards the ceiling in
pleasure. It's apparently a Very Good Sandwich. "Metri's m'wife," she
explains for Jaleran's sake. "I'm her husband. Isn't she a lucky woman?"

"But Metri is... and you are.." Amarie looks between Metri and Kassima,
confusion lighting up her face at the proclamation by the Wingleader. "I
thought candidates couldn't be married?" she finally asks, just to
ascertain that fact first and foremost. Smoke could start coming out of her
ears any moment from trying to work out the equation of Kassima and Metri.

"Ah, I've seen better," Metri announces to the cavern as Jaleran takes the
proffered seat. He can't seem to tamper down his grin at Kassima. "And the
idea of me seeing runners...well...I won't even /begin/ to tell you what I
heard about you. You know that little redheaded girl? Well..hmrph!" Metri
gives a very feminine swish of the hips (the kind that makes men desirable,
we all know it...the hip swish that makes women say, "Ah, any man who can
move like that--") puts his lips to the tips of his fingers, and blows a
kiss at Kassi. "You're just lucky we're in seperate quarters," Metri
assures her, before grinning, winking at Amarie, and leaving her to figure
out what's happening.

Telgar Weyr> Metri says, "G'night Telgar!"

Telgar Weyr> Metri says, "And precious wife!"

Telgar Weyr> Jaleran lusts after the hip-swish

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "Zhai, Metri, my darling bride!"

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "Most unkind of you to run out on me after all
that swishing. ;)"

Telgar Weyr> Yselle thought she was the husband?

Telgar Weyr> Metri says, "Oh, yes, I know. ;)"

Telgar Weyr> Metri says, "Oh, yes, g'night Lani, my apparent love interest
and the person to whom my chair was supposed to go to, if Jaleran hadn't
been standing there and you had. And night Cassanova, and night Amarie
(you'll get a nickname, I promise)."

Telgar Weyr> Metri realizes that was all covered in the "G'night Telgar"
thing, but whatever.

Jaleran must have passed his insanity tolerance, as he just shakes his
head, picks up his bowl of molasses with oatmeal sprinkled in and takes the
whole mess to the seat Metri vacated. Firmly ignoring the oddness... at
least he was until the hip-swishing. This causes his jaw to drop and his
bowl to clatter to the table... but instead of his mind breaking, he just
completely skips trains of thought. "If Metri's pregnant, I guess he can't
join me when I climb the bowl."

"Looks can be deceiving!" sing-songs Kassima, waggling one finger. Is she
enjoying this? Oh, yes. If those dancing eyes are anything to judge by,
she's enjoying it immensely. "That's why we haven't told the Weyrleaders
about our marriage. I mean, wouldn't do t'lose Metri her chance at a
dragon, even though any *sane* dragon would've Searched me instead. I have
bronzerider written all over me. *Redheaded girl*! Well, I *never*!" she
protests in Metri's wake... what she'd never remains unsaid, though, as she
decides to shamelessly wolf-whistle at those swishing hips instead. She
pantomimes 'catching' the kiss and slumping back in her chair in a sort of
mock-swoon. "Climb the Bowl? Shells, nay. I'm sure she wouldn't want t'risk
the baby. Why are you climbing the Bowl?"

Amarie can't help it, she bursts into giggles at Kassima's display of
swooning and raises both hands to hide the huge grin that accompanies the
laughter. Her eyes twinkle with merriment as she regards the Wingleader a
moment and says, "Well I hope the baby doesn't get in the way," joining in
the insane musing. To Jaleran, she directs a large, amused smile as she
asks, "Yes, why are you climbing the bowl and exactly what does that mean?"

Jaleran looks at Kassima and deadpans, "So I can rapell down into the steam
baths. Why else?" He seems perfectly serious, but then there's been a lot
of damage to his mind in the last few minutes. He finally manages to sit
down again and he unrolls the hides. On them is a rough sketch of the bowl
wall near the guest weyr tunnels with a series of dotted lines and X's. "It
means I've been getting bored stiff not having anything to climb and the
best thing around is the bowl wall. And this is the best climb I've plotted
so far."

Kassima wrinkles her nose. "Steam might make the rope slippery," she points
out just prior to a bite of sandwich. "Mmmph mrph mrph." Another
nose-wrinkle; she swallows before trying again: "Splattering on the sunning
rocks would be an undignified way t'die. Nay reason nay t'do it, then, so
long as the Candidate Coordinators don't have a problem and it doesn't mean
chore-shirking, but how're you going t'feel about nay having time t'climb
if'n you Impress?" She tears off a corner of bread to dunk it into the
soup. "Just so long as Metri doesn't go into labor *on the Sands*. I mean,
that would really be far too much."

"I know," Amarie nods gravely at Kassima. "It will be hard enough for him
with swollen ankles from the pregnancy and all." She has to press her lips
together to keep from laughing at the very idea. She glances over at
Jaleran and says, "Climbing rocks?" Hearing Kassima describe the
slipperiness she says, "No! You can't do that Jaleran!" Shakin gher head.
"You can't climb the rocks. It's dangerous!"

Jaleran nods briskly, "Oh, of course I'll be careful. And make sure it's
not breaking any candidate rules or the like." He starts to twitch a bit as
even Amarie takes up the thread of Metri's pregnancy, but very firmly
sticks to the only sane topic in his mind right now. "I have never
splattered on any climb." He nods in a way that indicates he knows it's
dangerous but also knows what he's doing. "I've climbed a lot of cliffs.
But I've never climbed a Weyr bowl before." Kassima's question about
climbing if he Impresses gets a moment of thought, "Well, for one thing,
we'd be able to find some truly impressive rockfaces. And it takes a lot of
time to just prepare for a climb. More than the climb itself takes, and the
prep work can be done between drills or patrols or the like."

"Never mind all the nausea. Wouldn't it be horrid if'n she vomited down the
face of the Bowl? Especially if'n someone were beneath her on the rope!"
Kassima makes a face, as well she might. "And then she'd probably demand a
back-rub from me when she's done. Even though the baby's probably nay
*mine*. Shameless hussy. Don't think 'twill be breaking rules," she says on
a slightly more serious note, to Jaleran, "but I could be wrong--I don't
recall it ever being a question a'fore. Aye, there'll be time enough
between drills and patrols once you're a full rider. But what about the
Turn and a half or so of Weyrlinghood?"

Amarie watches Jaleran's face as he talks about rock climbing. "You really
enjoy it don't you?" she asks. "The danger, the possibility you might
fall?" She looks in her juice cup, finding it empty. She sets it back on
the table saying, "My goodness Jaleran. I didn't know you were so brave as
to climb to such heights with just your hands." She looks slightly impressed.

Jaleran shrugs to Kassima, trying to not look that far ahead and get his
hopes up. "I'd just have to be patient in that case." The he nods to
Amarie, a content smile forming on his face, "Climbing, swimming,
running... I enjoy anything that keeps me moving. And yes, the danger is a
part of the fun, but I'm always careful to plan the climb as much as I can
before I start up." He winces at a memory, "I learned that lesson the first
time."

Kassima allows, lifting one shoulder, "True enough. Might nay be an issue
anyway. And either road, Faranth knows Weyrlings are too busy t'be
*bored*... a'course, the same *should* be true for Candidates...." She's a
little deadpan there, but one corner of her mouth is quirked upward: it's
more a joke than a warning. "There is a certain enjoyment in thumbing your
nose at death, as 'twere," she offers to Amarie. "Especially if'n the risk
isn't actually that great--but I suspect the high afterwards at having
survived is strongest when the risk was *very* real."

Amarie suddenly yawns, the whole thing catching her by surprise. She
stretches her legs out, putting her feet on the floor. She stands to her
feet and says, "I'm gonna go to bed." She smiles at Kassima and says, "Good
night Kassima." To Jaleran she says, "Be careful..good night." She smiles
at him too.

Jaleran smiles after Amarie as she yawns and leaves, "I will." He watches
after her as she heads away, sighing heavily before looking back down at
his rough tracing of a possibly climb route up the bowl. "It's not because
I'm bored, Wingleader. I've got a lot of things to do here and all. But
while Telgar is like home in some ways, there aren't any climbs set up like
there were off the terraces or the cliff behind the observatory." He shrugs
and grins wryly, "I guess it's just my way of dealing with homesickness."

"G'night... um... Candidate," Kassi bids, with a sheepish half-grin for the
lack of name. "Shells. I'm getting behind. How I can be wagering properly
if'n I don't know who's who by Hatching time...." She shakes her head,
sending her forelock falling into her eyes, and promptly pushes it back out
of the way. "Ah. Well. That's something I can certes understand.
Homesickness is the plague and bane of Candidates; and of riders or
residents or Crafters too, from time t'time. You can call me by name,
y'know. Did you know Amarie a'fore being Searched?"

"Amarie." Jaleran nods after her retreating form to indicate her name for
Kassima. Then he shrugs at her other remark, "The only titled rider I ever
called by other than his title was father. Besides..." he grins sheepishly,
"I haven't really been doing well learning rider's names since being here."
But to the question he half-nods, half-headshakes. "Well, in a way. I
arrived at Telgar about four or five sevendays before Dianneth insisted I
stand. And Amarie and I had been talking about our homes and such before
that." He feels a yawn coming on and makes no effort to stiffle it since
that tends to just make him more tired faster.

Kassima nods, enlightened, and by her expression taking mental note of the
name for future reference. "I'd sooner a title than 'ma'am,'" she admits,
grinning, "so if'n you can't recall m'name, stick with that; but the only
time I want t'be titled is when m'Wing's on formal duty. Otherwise I just
don't need it." Another nod, this time for the explanation. "That's some
time t'bond. She seems fond of you, concerned about you as she was. Mayhaps
you should call it a night? You look tired, if'n I may say so, and 'twould
wager marks t'muffins they'll have plenty of work waiting for you when you
wake."

Jaleran chuckles, "You could wager, but it'd be even marks. I get to spend
tomorrow here in the cavern and kitchen as a serving drudge." But he
swallows the last bite of his oatmeal-flavored molasses and rises from his
borrowed seat with his skins and charcoal tucked into his coat. The remarks
about Amarie's concern for him get a deep blush, but his expression might
indicate he has a fairly good idea where things stand between himself and
his fellow candidate. He sketches a quick half-salute, "G'nite, Kassima."
He starts towards the lower caverns, then pauses and turns with a grin,
"And don't let Metri's mood swings scare you. I hear tell it's just a
childbearing thing."

"Hard t'find anyone t'take that bet," Kassi agrees, pulling her expression
into one of mock-woe. "Alas." And of course she doesn't grin at all at that
blush. No, not at all. At least not now. She'll save that for after he's
left. "Nay need for saluting either! But g'night," and she returns the
salute casually, whatever she said. "--Oh, shells, I won't. I just plan
t'stay *far* out of his way when he's feeling weepy-angry enough t'start
throwing vases and the like. 'Twill probably go get drunk on beer with
m'mates, like a proper man."

Jaleran can't help but laugh as he busses his dishes then makes his way out
of the cavern towards the barracks. He waves behind him, then vanishes down
the tunnel, the sound of another yawn echoing back up behind him.

Jaleran walks towards the inner cavern.