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Kitchen Confidential


Date:  May 12, 2008
Place:  Igen Weyr's Kitchens
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:  It's fun when one scene touches off another like 
dominos.  W'adru invited me to come play in the kitchens, so Kassi 
heads down there with a fresh catch of fish.  He catches her up on how 
he fares in his Wing while she's cleaning them; Meilyn comes in just 
before Wall leaves, and conversation turns towards the young kitchen-
worker's professional future.  Meeting A'deth once he joins them gets 
her a few facts about Healing.  Once she goes, A'deth and Kassi talk
about the passing of time, eat some fish, and indulge in more than a 
little innuendo; reader beware. ;)

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The Log:

You wander into the Weyr's kitchens.

Clean up from evening meal is nearly completed. Drudges and Kitchen Staff
move about here and there, putting away clean dishes and pans, getting out
those that will be used to prepare and maintain the overnight snacks that a
Weyr requires. Sitting on a stool in a corner, far from the action, sits
W'adru, seemingly lost in thought as he nods on occasion, also occasionally
munching on the sandwich, which is half gone.

She went walking to the kitchens one day, in the very merry Pernese May,
carrying--what a surprise--a bunch of fish with dead, glazed eyes, in the
very merry Pernese May! Kassima does, indeed, have fish with her, river
fish bound together at their tails and not looking so much the worse for
the trip *between*; they have that inevitable eau de piscine, but it's as
subtle as such things get. Fresh fish, then. "Figured I'd see if'n anyone
wants these?" she asks the nearest kitchen-worker. "A'fore I take 'em
t'cold stores. I certes can't eat this many." Although the man in question
eyes the fish a bit bemusedly, he takes them, and on Kassi's request works
one handsome speckler free for her to keep. This she takes to a free and
clean-wiped stretch of counter. If dinner is over, that only gives her all
the more room to work... but for the record there are no purple clothes in
evidence this time. No, not even poofy pants.

You know that idle bodies aren't tolerated for long in the kitchens. It
sort of makes one wonder about the bronzerider sitting in the corner. The
kitchen staff seem to be fairly ignoring him at the moment, since he's
distant from the action. He sighs and lowers the sandwich to knee level,
closing his eyes. Softly he speaks. "Almost. Try it again." He sits, the
picture of still and calm.

"It looks fine," Kassima protests, hearing the quiet words but rather
mistaking their direction and probably their meaning. She eyes the fish in
front of her, now minus a section of its scales. "I didn't mutilate it, and
that, for me, is saying something." A glance over: "Oh--heyla, Wall; you
didn't mean me, did you?"

W'adru opens his eyes, shaking his head. He looks around, as if realizing
now where he is. "Um. Would you believe no?" he shuffles forward a little,
perhaps realizing that all the feeling has gone outta his backside from
sitting on the stool. He takes another bite of sandwich, its getting really
small now. "I guess you kept your...promise...about getting yourself some
fresh fish?"

This amuses Kassima. "Since 'twould be a bit odd for you t'randomly comment
on m'fish-cleaning prowess, now that I think on it, I'd believe you." It's
not a good idea to play with knives and fish without looking, so her eyes
return to her work after a quick wave of the blade to him. "Did I promise?
I don't remember, but if'n I made it then I kept it. They're straight out
of the Bitra river. I'm in a mood for herbs, a squeeze of citrus, y'know,
everything cooking it by the riverbank wouldn't have involved since I
didn't bring supplies. How about you? Making sandwiches?"

W'adru chuckles. "Only on my third." This draws a snort from a couple of
the Kitchen girls, followed by a round of the giggles. "I was just helping
Nergath with something that was confusing him."

"Oh, well, only. Sounds as if'n someones take interest in how much you
eat," and Kassima glances over her shoulder towards the direction from
whence the giggles came. "I'truth?" A sweep of her knife slides the fish's
innards, spilled before she started scaling, further to the side to give
her more clear room. "'Tisn't formations again?"

W'adru shakes his head. "No, he's starting to get the hang of that.
Something about keeping him to a limit at the feeding pen is helping, he's
much sharper. No, we were just going over some of the fun things from
Weyrlinghood."

Scrape, scrape. Thin and translucent scales litter the cutting board. "He'd
probably nay like getting fat in any case," Kassima says, her amusement
returned. "Has t'be rolled to his ledge; shown up in drills by every blue;
Faranth help him with the greens--please tell me by fun things you don't
mean all the throwing up." Teasing him? Yes, yes she is.

A spoon hits countertop. A moment of silence before a cleared throat gets
things in motion again. W'adru blushes a little. "I'm happy to say no. We
were doing visualizations. I was giving him things around the Weyr I wanted
to see and seeing if he could find them and I could see them. He's getting
pretty good at it. I'm eventually going to have to speed them up."

Kassima is a moment in answering, because she's hit a tricky patch on the
fish where the skin and scales aren't interested in the least in coming
off. "C'mon, you're already dead, what's t'gain from nay cooperating? The
double sight is useful." Ostensibly she's talking to Wall again now. The
fish is long past seeing anything. "Although I'm nigh afraid t'be asking
what you're having him spy out! I kid again--you don't strike me as likely
t'ask Nergath t'be ogling people for you somehow."

W'adru shakes his head. "Strangely enough, I get more than a few offers for
that in person. I don't need his..." his thought is cut off by the sound of
pans hitting floor and then the people going after them. "Um. So, no. We do
some from the ledge, others on the wing."

IGEN-> Meilyn waves and see's if anyone is looking for RP. :)

IGEN-> W'adru is getting constantly embarassed in the Kitchen if you want
to venture in on it, Meilyn :)

IGEN-> A'deth considers crashing, too. XD

IGEN-> W'adru says, "I think the drops of spoons and pots have done enough
crashing, but come on down if you want. :) Igot about half an hour left on
the night."

Kassima pauses her knifework to glance at him. "Nay that strangely. You're
young, you're in a Weyr, you're a bronzerider. Any two of the three might
get you interest, aye? There're always some who think a bronze dragon makes
a man particularly attractive." Some drollness there. "What things d'you
want t'see in the air that you ask him for?"

IGEN-> Meilyn says, "Sounds mighty tempting."

Meilyn comes in from the Living Caverns, inhaling the spicy scents.

W'adru shrugs. "Just things around the Weyr. He really likes the lake,
especially since he can see it anytime he wants to from the ledge." Hmm,
apparently he either didn't hear the comment about being a bronzerider, or
he chose to miss it. The young bronzer sits on a stool in a corner, Kassima
is working on cleaning and scaling a fish, that seems to be putting up a
fight, even if it is dead. Two deeply blushing Kitchen staffers, both
female, are furiously gathering and scurrying away with pans that have
somehow found their way to the floor.

IGEN-> A'deth says, "Since you'e got a half-hour, I'll sit out tonight, no
sense in slowing the scene down more. I can inflict myself on you when
you've got more time. XD I'm just glad folks are getting to rp."

IGEN-> Meilyn says, "I'll still be around after the half hour, so we could
still continue?"

IGEN-> A'deth :3 can come down soon then.

Kassima taps her blade on the cutting board to dislodge a few scales. The
cleaning job is now complete, more or less; she starts to cut the filets,
and this, too, is tricky enough to make her answer slow. "Ever ask him
t'look around underwater for you? That could be interesting. Out in the
ocean especially, if'n you ever go."

The apparent disturbance in the kitchen goes currently unnoticed by Meilyn,
her eyes downcast as she trudges warily through the doors with a sodden
grime-covered rag clutched in her right hand. She throws the rag
absentmindedly into a half-full basin of water, not a few splashes of the
water splashing over onto the counter granting the kitchen worker a glare
from one of the aunties scrubbing right near that exact spot. Lifting her
gaze from the floor, the mess caused by the scattered pans gets an
incredulous look and a stare at the green and bronzerider.

W'adru tilts his head to the side, taking in the suggestion. "You know,
that's not a bad idea. Next time we might start out with the lake, see what
its like looking through the water that way. You always have such good
suggestions." He seems to be studiously ignoring the mess, and thus the new
arrival. "Someday I think Ray might drag me off to see it. It'd be
interesting."

There are scattered pans? Kassima has her back to the blushing young women,
and hasn't taken notice of the sounds as more than is normal in a kitchen;
she doesn't seem that apt to notice soon either, keeping her eyes trained
on the cutting board while her ears are trained on W'adru. "The wonder is
you haven't been t'see by now. I want t'be saying m'clutchmates and I'd
been off t'Boll a dozen times a'fore we graduated, and 'twould be true, but
it sounds too much like a 'when I was your age' story and that's too
depressing." One filet free! Before she sets to trimming it she straightens
and rubs the back of her neck with her hand--after a quick swipe on her
trouser-leg, thank you--and happens to spot Meilyn, scanning the room.
"G'deve," she offers cheerfully.

The offered greeting is met with more of the incredulous stare for at least
a few heartbeats before the girl gives a small shake of her head and offers
the rider a nod of her head as a return. Walking slowly over towards the
two riders, Meilyn seems to have taken the greeting as an invitation and
smiles upon reaching the pair, a "And to you as well, it's not every day a
windstorm blows through the kitchens and causes a mess like this." She
grins sunnily, the uncommon end to her day of work invigorating the
otherwise exhausted girl.

W'adru blinks. "Clutchmates. Whoops!" The last bite of sandwich is jammed
into his maw and he draws himself stiffly from the stool, drawing himself
to his full height. "A few of us were going to get together tonight over at
the lake. I'd best get moving." He steps lightly for a guy of six feet
five. "Evenin' Meilyn. G'night, ladies." the dust covered Bronzerider makes
for the exit.

W'adru heads out into the noise of the Living Caverns.

IGEN-> W'adru says, "Okay, off to bed. G'night, Igen :)"

Kassima doesn't mind it being interpreted so--for one thing, being more
social is an excellent excuse to prolong her break from finicky slicing a
little. She matches the grin. But, "Mess?" A look around, and now she sees!
"Good grief, I didn't even notice that happening. I wonder what--g'night,
Wall, regards to the others." Too late, but she wiggles her fingers after
him anyway. "You're Meilyn?"

"Filleting and-" Meilyn glances around at a few of the more errant scales,
"-scaling aren't the easiest of tasks, I can fully understand how it could
be engrossing enough to be such a distraction." She seems not to think of
who caused the mess, more looking to assume it was caused by a careless
kitchen worker, "especially if you don't do it all the time like some of
the cooks." The question is met with another small grin and nod along with
a nod of farewell to the bronzerider, "Yup, that's me! I don't think we've
met before?" The unasked question hangs on the air with a slightly raised
brow from the girl.

"Ugh, nay kidding. I'm somewhat faster when I'm nay trying t'do it right.
Stick 'em on sticks, roast 'em over a fire... I felt like actually cooking
tonight so I'm stuck with the whole song and dance." Kassima doesn't mind
that much. She prods the half-cut fish with her knife almost
affectionately. "It's been Turns and Turns since I did this on a regular
basis. I don't think so either. I'm Kassima," she introduces, gesturing
towards herself. "Still meeting new people every other day, it feels like
sometimes."

A'deth comes in from the Living Caverns, inhaling the spicy scents.

Meilyn flops down on the stool so recently vacated by W'adru, a contented
sigh escaping her lips as she finally gets time off her feet. "I'd offer to
help you but that ruins the whole joy of... actually cooking as you put it.
I can't help with the cooking part however, the best I can do is prepare it
then-" She gives a fake pout, "-wipe the tables and counters as the cooks
actually do the real work. I really don't like the kitchens very much, but
it happens to be what I grew up with and..." She trails off, realizing that
the woman most likely doesn't much care about her life story. "Anyway, I
seem to as well, though with the number of people in a Weyr and how many
come and go with the seasons it's no surprise."

Kassima crinkles her nose. Not in boredom or distaste, however, since then
she probably wouldn't stay with the topic: "There ought t'be something else
you can do in a Weyr. Stablehand, laundry, nursery, something. With all
that coming and going, nay knowing what you're doing mayhaps wouldn't
matter much." Back to fileting, before the fish can get more ripe than it
is already; the tip of her tongue sticks out of one corner of her mouth,
for apparently you're never too old for that particular silly expression.
At least not if you're Kassi. "I did a share of the cooking at Da's Holding
a'fore I left, but that's been... never mind how long." The greenrider
stands before a space of counter near Meilyn's seat, working away on a
cleaned and half-sliced speckler while they talk.

A'deth doesn't really belong in a kitchen-- someone who eats as little as
he is better suited to his own infirmary, really. And all that black might
get be-floured! But in here he suddenly is, pausing at the entrance like a
man daunted by some formidably unknown territory. His spectacles are still
on, and he peers bemusedly through them at the goings-on, still half-lost
in the hidework in his own head. Long shift, perhaps.

Meilyn gives a half-smile, the reassurance about a change in occupation
seeming to be a rhetoric hearc before, "You are probably right, I've been
told there's a few people I should talk to about changing to something more
to my skills and... temperment. Do you know anything about Lanisa or
A'deth?" She gives a distracted nod at the last comment as A'deth enters
haltedly inwards, a look of curiousity crossing the girls face at the man's
odd demeanor. Half whispering across to the greenrider, she asks, "Who's
he? Definitely not a face I recognize."

"Aye, I do. Lanisa's an old friend--she's nay directly in charge of
assignments so far as I know, but if'n naught else mayhaps she could use a
hand with the twins. Or give you a recommendation to the Headwoman, there's
a thought. I certes know A'deth." Which is an odd thing to sound amused
about, or grin over for that matter. Kassima cuts another swath of
fish-flesh free. "He's--right there! That's him," she tells Meilyn, and
raises her knife-bearing hand to hail the man. "A'deth! Come over here,
would you? Or are you looking for something?"

A'deth blinks at Kassima, and then wanders her way, nodding courteously to
Meilyn as he approaches the two women. "I was craving whatzit. Why are you
carving fish... you know, I know you've a fetish for knives, but your
technique's really very good. Have you thought of applying your skills to
surgery?" And he leans down to observe more closely.

"That's A'deth?!" Meilyn asks, quickly putting a hand over her mouth so the
dragonhealer wouldn't hear her. "Not really what I was expecting, but
thanks for finding half my list." She grins her thanks before turning to
watch A'deth approach the knife wielding greenrider. His opening remarks
get a faint look of surprise from the kitchen worker as the male
greenrider's words seem more jocular then she expected.

IGEN-> A'deth XD Meilyn.

Kassima laughs, her green eyes picking up a sparkle. "'Twill make a whatsit
addict of you yet. I'm making dinner. I'm going t'be searing 'em in a pan
with a bit of oil, butter, lemon, some chives...." But she trails off as
she considers him. "Or I might try something else if'n you'd have fish
instead of whatsit. Thankee for that high compliment, but I couldn't put
aught I cut up back together again. I still hate making straps," she
confides to both A'deth and Meilyn. "Bloody *stitching*." Most of the fish
is down to bone now; she wrings one last filet from it, a slender, narrow
thing. A quick swipe with a cloth cleans her blade. "Nay" She quirks a
curious brow at Meilyn. "What were you expecting? A'deth, if'n I understand
right Meilyn might want t'talk t'you about work in the Infirmary."

A'deth shrugs one narrow shoulder. "That's fine." And he tilts his head at
Meilyn, his gaze suddenly sharp over his reading lenses. "What did you
expect?" he inquires blandly, one corner of his mouth not quite curving up,
but almost, almost. (So he did overhear, after all!) "And why were you
expecting anything else?"

Meilyn stutters slightly at the direct question of the rider, her words not
meant to have been overheard, "Uh..uh, I... didn't expect such a... fine
dragonrider... with such eloquence like yourself." She gives a small nod,
as if assuring herself of the comment as well as towards A'deth. "I don't
know... I never really thought about it." She looks to have forgotten her
question for A'deth, and Kassima's opening to that line of conversation has
slipped away with her dignity at the embarrassment.

Fine it may have been, but Kassima's gotten an Idea and is of a mind to run
with it. While the other two are talking seems an excellent time to leave
her station in search of a few things... politely badgering the cooks in a
case or two, her voice floating over on such reassuring sentiments as,
"'Twill nay smell *that* bad!" Finally she's collected what she needs. A
whole assortment of little clay jars, a bowl holding butter, and a heavy
iron frying pan. The pan goes onto a fire pit and the rest returns to the
counter with her. "He doesn't actually do licentious things with ovines,"
she brightly assures Meilyn. "So far as I know. D'you want a slice of this
too when I'm done?"

A'deth arches a brow at her, and casually leans against the counter, in a
spot untouched by food. "Now you've /really/ got me curious, my dear, and I
dearly enjoy prying out secrets. I do not, however, fornicate with ovines.
Though I have with a few humans who might qualify. Given me half my silver,
they have." And he eyes Kassima's ominously creative efforts. "What /are/
you going to do to that poor fish?"

"licentious?" Meilyn asks innocently, before turning slightly red at both
riders open manner. "I... never thought you did-" She pauses to search for
the right word, "-anything with ovines. I just didn't really know what to
expect of a dragonhealer." She gives what she hopes is a reassuring grin,
her cheeks still blotchy from her apparent embarrassment.

"Part of me wants names of the ovine-people. Part of me wants t'run away
from this topic a'fore I start picturing bronzeriders covered all over with
fleece." Kassima reaches for another bowl, this one left on the counter by
someone else, and a spoon with which to measure powders into it. "Paprika,"
she murmurs. "Cayenne. Cumin. Mustard. Thyme. Pepper. White pepper...
you're going t'find out," which could be taken as a threat, couldn't it?
"Sorry, Meilyn, I'm being very silly and I shouldn't. I don't mean t'make
you uncomfortable. Apologies? I daresay A'deth can tell you what t'be
expecting of Dragonhealers, but you can't judge 'em all by him either. He's
unique." There's a certain merriment there, but her smile makes the word a
compliment.

A'deth snorts softly at Kassima. "There was this one young man, it was
quite unusual, he had a remarkably hairy chest. I've never seen the like of
it before or since. Looked just like curly black fleece. I wanted to keep
him afterward as one of my furs, because he was very warm, but for some
reason he declined." The food combo makes him pause and ponder for a
moment, and he shrugs that shoulder -- the right -- again. "Lots of
cayenne." And to Meilyn, he just remarks, "You've still got me curious. But
do ask whatever you'd like."

Still looking a bit out of it, Meilyn explains her situation to A'deth as
best she can, "Where to start? Oh, yeah, I don't really like working in the
kitchens and my cooking skills are next to non existant and all I really do
is clean tables and serve people too lazy to serve themselves and it is all
because I was born into it. I have been trying to find something that I can
really feel I am doing something and a talk with a rider from Telgar made
me think I'd be interested in learning how to be a herbalist. Do you know
if that's even possible, or who I should talk to?" She gives the man an
encouraging smile, her story having been let out in a rush.

Kassima admits, "I knew a bronzerider like that. Mayhaps nay so bad, I
didn't want t'skin him and turn him into a rug. Sure, sure, burn our
tongues off too," but nevertheless, she sprinkles in just a bit more
cayenne. Then excuses herself again, this time to find a small pot--silly
of her to forget the first time!--to melt the butter in over the fire pit,
something which doesn't keep her away more than a minute or two. That's
still long enough to miss most of what Meilyn says. Returning, she just
catches the tail end: "Interesting idea. I haven't thought much about where
our herbs come from."

A'deth looks Meilyn up and down after she speaks, but his gaze is not
lascivious. He is taking her measure, as if he might somehow discern
something about her character from her words and her form. It's her eyes he
stares longest at, and then her hands. "If I were hungry," he remarks, "I'd
ask you to serve me. My day's busy enough as it is, and it's probably so
for everyone else around here. As for herbalism-- perhaps you should
consider becoming a Healer? If it's weyr life you're set on, train under
one of the journeymen here? You aren't too old to apprentice. Or you could
become an infirmary assistant, but you'd be fetching and carrying, changing
bedpans, holding down wounded men -- and dragons, perhaps -- while someone
else stitches them up. Might get to do it yourself, if you can sew. Might
get to prescribe small cures once you've worked hard enough, but serious
ailments are a healer's privilege to treat. And dragons rarely need to be
dosed with anything, we haven't had a plague in centuries." ...And to
Kassima, he asides bemusedly, "I wonder if it was the same man. And, ah,
traders usually bring them up. Sometimes the healers take their assistants
and go gathering. I pick some up from Ista myself now and then."

"I don't want to leave my family," Meilyn almost whispers, her youth
betrayed in that one comment to the two older riders. "I want to help
people but stay in the Weyr and I don't want to be an infirmiry aide, I've
heard only bad things about that." She nods slightly at his words, the
options all still seeming better then her current position, a smile playing
about her lips as she considers how near her salvation may be, "And who
would be the journeymen in charge of herbs and such? Should I just go to
the infirmiry and ask really loudly and see who comes? I've heard that Igen
has some really nice gardens with herbs and everything, do you know if they
need help there?"

"Probably nay. Ista didn't go in for other men when I knew him, and I don't
think that much changed." Kassima grimaces; she's happy enough to distract
herself with dipping the filets in butter and, once they're thoroughly
glistening, patting the mix of spices into a coating on each. "'Twould
still be the kitchens, Meilyn, but if'n you wanted t'do the cooking--you
said you never get to?--Kaimi's another you could try. The Baker Craftmaster."

"Talk to Iesia," A'deth advises. "She doesn't oversee herbs specifically,
her specialty is surgery, but if you can meet her standards, I'll be
satisfied... but don't count on doing nothing but gardening all day. We
don't go through herbs that fast, and we do get tithes." And he turns his
head to watch Kassima work. "Isn't food strange? I carve flesh and toss it
away -- who'd want to eat dragon, anyway? -- and here you are turning it
into something I'm supposed to put in my mouth."

"Iesia? I've already talked to her a few times, she seems very nice."
Meilyn replies with a smile at the familiar name, "I don't expect to do
gardening all day, but it seems that there are many things to do with herbs
here but no one truly specializes in them." She pauses, giving thought to
the matter, her eyes unfocused towards the ceiling, "What would I need to
do to become a real herbalist? Where would I apprentice I mean?"

Kassima snorts very softly. "There are a thousand and one comments I could
make that I'm masterfully refraining from. I'd just like you t'note it: a
paragon of restraint am I." Right, sure. Third verse, same as the first,
she has to excuse herself for the final stage and carry the damp filets in
a bowl to the heated pan--she pauses first to say, "If'n 'twould be a
Healer specializing in herbs, studying here, you'd have t'talk
t'Craftmaster Jaria at Healer Hall methinks. See if'n she'd let you post
t'Igen." A quick smile and she leaves them for the pits... and shortly
after, there's billowing smoke and a heavy scent of fish being cooked.

"The Healer Hall. Healers -- and Dragonhealers here, anyway -- are the ones
who specialise in the ue of herbs to treat illnesses. If you wish to
diagnose and prescribe for more than simple maladies, you must receive
formal training." A'deth sounds quite inflexible about it, and he nods in
agreement with Kassima when she delivers her verdict. "With privilege comes
sacrifice, Meilyn. That's everyone's burden."

Meilyn gives a wry look before nodding slowly in understanding, "I know, I
wasn't trying to cheat the system or anything, just trying to find out what
I can before I start talking to these people." She stands from the stool
and gives a large stretch, a contented sigh escaping her lips. "I want to
work towards actually achieving something from my life and helping people
where I can. Thank you very much for telling me all you did, but I have to
go get some sleep. The kitchens wake up early you know." She gives a curt
nod to the dragonhealer before giving a gentle smile and tilt of the head
in Kassima's direction, a called, "You have a good dinner there!" Before
she takes her leave.

"Thankee!" Kassima calls after Meilyn over the sizzle and pop of
pan-roasting things. She coughs straight after, because the cloud of smoke
really is rather thick. But the cooking time isn't long at all--thankfully
for all concerned. Maybe five minutes, maybe a little less, and she raises
her voice again. "Bring a couple of plates and forks, A'deth, and you can
taste the results. If'n you dare."

"I don't think," A'deth murmurs quietly, "That she realises that serving
people food can be of great help... but I know what she means." And he
moves to do as he's bidden, gathering up dishes and utensils and wandering
over. "Though I still want to know why I didn't fit her expectations." And
he leans in to take a cautious whiff. "Doesn't smell too bad," he pronounces.

Kassima finds a thick cloth someone's helpfully left near the pits and
wraps it around the pan's handle before she picks it up. Good thing; the
iron practically radiates heat. "I don't think many people have serving as
their vocation. If'n she hates it so, she'd probably be better off
altogether with something else." She steals a fork from him, and carefully,
carefully transfers one of the three filets onto a plate. The blackened
fish has a charred look, pale flesh peeping through where the coating has
cracked. The spice factor isn't for the faint of heart. "'Tis hot still,"
she cautions. "You might want t'grab a cup of wine or something. You look
Dragonhealery enough t'me, but mayhaps she thought you'd be elbow-deep in
ichor?"

A'deth turns to find a skin, and glasses. And a bowl of sour cream, because
he's used to hot peppers by now. "Doesn't everything that one does in a
Weyr," he remarks, juggling everything in his long hands, "Come down to
serving?"

"Oh, serving in a general sense." Kassima finishes sliding the fish onto
plates while he hunts, breaking the third small filet in half and giving
them each a piece. "I meant specifically bringing people food. In general
methinks you're right. Riders serve Weyr, Hold, and Hall; Crafters and
residents serve riders and each other; there's a marked lack of sitting
around doing naught and getting taken care of, unless you're a bairn, or
very, very old. Much older than thee or me."

"We're not old," A'deth mutters. And leans in to kiss the nape of her neck
as she plates their food, ignoring whoever else might look on. "You've
hardly any wrinkles or sagging. Did you just make this recipe up?" And he
sets the bowl down nearby, its contents ready to be dolloped onto their
plates.

Kassima mutters in her turn, "Hardly any," wry, rueful. Kind of him to
distract her from any edge of dolor with such a shiver-raising kiss. Her
hand slips up to caress his nape in exchange, while his head is so
thoughtfully bent. "You're right again. Age is in the mind: we have the
minds of lovesick juveniles: we are, therefore, lovesick juveniles and will
never grow up, I hope. 'Tis something of m'grandmum's devising, or at least
that she passed down. M'mother loves it. There's a joke she married Da for
his mum's food--" A soft chuckle. "I'm slightly surprised I remembered how
t'make it."

"Not so old, then, to forget." Lovesickness? Or the recipe? A'deth moves
away reluctantly. "I don't usually feel like anything but than a lovesick
juvenile, really, unless I talk to someone as young as that girl... just a
lovesick juvenile with a head stuffed full of memories."

Kassima tilts her head at him, surprise in her eyes. "A lovesick juvenile
all the time? All your life?" All their informal dinner table misses now is
chairs, and she gets them some. Meilyn's stool, another cadged from
somewhere. "The memories are the part of age worth keeping, seems t'me.
That and the depth of friendships--and love, I assume, when it lasts so long."

"I look at old men, at their stooped backs, their meandering stories, their
amusement at the excesses of youth, and I don't find myself within them,"
A'deth tries to explain. "When I see a flash of white, I'm startled that
it's my own hair. My face in the mirror, who is this man with lines at the
corners of his eyes?" That there are so few old riders might have something
to do with it; he's holdbred, and his notions of age are based on such
things, with so few examples upon which to look up to. He pours wine for
them both. "When I think, 'that person is so young', it surprises me. I
don't remember being that young when I was young, but now that I'm old, I
don't... how can I be seventy Turns old? I remember every year, and yet..."

Kassima shakes her head quickly. "None of that is you," she agrees. "You
aren't an old man. Trust me t'know, and I do--the always lovesick is what
surprises me, the juvenile doesn't. I've meandering stories and amusement
at youth on occasion, although t'be fair, some of that might be from
watching m'children grow up...." She takes up her wine with a murmur of
gratitude. "I wish I'd known you when 'twere Meilyn's age or so. You say
seventy Turns; I believe you, but you've as much *life* in you as a man
fifty Turns younger. You haven't stepped back and decided life's done, time
t'be watching it now. Or even that you have t'participate in the game in a
different role than you ever did. Mayhaps that's the difference."

"When I was her age, all I wanted was to be anything but what I was. I
would've been poor company then. I plowed fields and tended beasts and
snuck away to read scrolls and hides. I fought with my brothers and father
and usually lost. I couldn't conceive of doing such things for the rest of
my life, of marrying a woman..." A'deth sounds quietly amused. Look at him
now, with she as his lover! He reaches for her free hand, so that he might
lift it to his lips. So what if she's been handling fish? "What were you
like?"

Kassima laughs softly, seeing the humor in it. Her hand, thankfully, has
more of a scent of butter and spices than fish--likely tastes like them,
too. "She's how old, d'you think? Fifteen? 'Twas a Weyrling then," she
remembers while gently squeezing his fingers. "Just Impressed. Just
learning what trousers were, and that m'hair was mayhaps best nay worn
loose. 'Twas rather silly, and rather naive, and happy mayhaps in part
because of that, but mostly because of Lysseth and the new home and family
I had. The life I'd never dreamed of. I fear young you would've found young
me entirely tedious."

A'deth's grin is, as usual, crooked. "She seems so... And I might have. I
don't know. I Impressed at twenty-two Turns, and probably would have found
you much more interesting then-- I at least had eyes to see beyond myself,
then, somewhat. To anyone who wasn't a fool, your magnificence would have
been plain, silly or not." And, since her fingers smell delicious, he licks
them shamelessly. "You were probably more mature than I, even then,
considering."

It may be the compliment that makes her blush so, or it may be having her
fingers licked while the kitchen looks on... but probably the former. In
either case, Kassima is smiling. "You overestimate me. I can
guarantee--nigh guarantee. Correct me if'n I'm wrong, that in some respects
'twas less so; I didn't lie with a man without Lysseth rising until 'twas
in m'twenties. And then 'twas drunk; a few more Turns a'fore I did it
sober. That's one kind of maturity." She reaches across to his plate with
her free hand, steals his fork, and breaks off a piece of fish to bring to
his mouth: "Taste this too?"

A'deth bites delicately. He's not a big eater, but his love of hot spice
means that he doesn't choke. "You taste better," he declares, after he's
eaten that morsel. "But this is very, very good. And sex-- even I admit
that it's no real measure of maturity. I remember being teased after I
Impressed green... I was mortified."

And Kassima beams, for the spice was, of course, chosen with him in mind.
"Flattery will get you everywhere." An old line, but delivered in that
amused voice, her gaze dancing green, perhaps it works. "Did they assume
'twere sex-mad," she asks, now gone rather dry, "because a'course all
greenriders are?"

"They said I'd better be..." And A'deth considers how best to word it.
"That I'd better get to like it, and like it a lot, and that I seemed like
I'd make a fine greenrider, since I already liked it with a man. At the
time, I was furious. But they were right, after all, even if it was rude to
say to a weyrling." And he reaches for his own fork, and does the same for
her-- sections off a bite, and then offers it.

"That's so strange t'me. At Benden, at Telgar too, I don't think 'twas ever
assumed... the sex-mad thing." Kassima dismisses that with a face and a
flick of her fingers. "That, but nay that a male greenrider would lean
towards other men. Any more than they assumed I'd lean t'women after
Lysseth's first three all went that way." And she makes a face again, she
can't quite help it even after so long. "'Tis m'opinion you make a fine
greenrider because you fight Thread well, tend your lifemate, do your duty,
and don't screw up the flights." She leans forward to take the bite
delicately between her teeth and slide it from the tines. Her renewed smile
is more for him than the fish, even if she does murmur, "Delicious."

A'deth lets out a shuddery sigh, and his fork stays poised for a moment or
three, because he's too busy staring at her. "...Well..." And it takes him
a little longer to organise his suddenly very scattered thoughts, like the
amorous teen that he often feels that he still is... and he can't quite
seem to remember what he was going to say. "You're flattering me, when I
should be flattering you. Skilled at conversation, cooking, bedding... what
can't you do?"

Kassima does so love doing that to him. If someone asked her to list her
favorite hobbies these days, 'short-circuiting A'deth's brain' would be
right up there. It's not all one-sided, either--when it's clear where his
thoughts are wandering, what else can hers do after all but wander along?
Eyes aglow all the way. "Sew, dance, draw, resist you ever--any number of
things, I assure."

/Right here and now, on the kitchen table,/ A'deth's vivid green gaze seems
to say. But he can't say that, not even in a Weyr-- they've not even a
flight to make them act so foolishly. Instead, he offers her another bite.
What he does say is terribly mundane. "And you say you'd make a poor
dragonhealer."

Say it, no; and with a few kitchen workers still milling about, and
probably eavesdropping, there's no chance Kassima would go for that. But
the slight widening of her eyes, and the way her mouth curves just that
much more... it's not a thought without its appeal. Bless him, the need to
accept, and chew, and swallow gives her the time she needs to remember how
to do this conversation thing. "I've more fighting instinct than healing,
methinks. I never cared for Infirmaries much, although this one's tolerable
so long as you're there--you and your mark-throwing assistants." She swirls
a bite of fish leisurely through the sour cream and holds it out to him.

A'deth nibbles it off the fork, somehow predatorily classy. That it's a
substitute for nibbling something /else/ is obvious, though. "You'd get
sick of us all after a while anyway." He sighs, once his mouth is empty.
"Though you'd get rich." And of course, he must feed her, too, creamy fish
for creamy fish.

Kassima must be rather fond of sour cream; she licks it delicately from the
fish, only closing her lips on the bite when it's completely gone. Her gaze
fixed on him all the while. Naturally. "Nibble more, do," she murmurs;
she's caught between a particular sort of laughter and something else
entirely. "I don't think 'twill ever get sick of you. You keep life so very
interesting. You're suggesting they'd throw marks at me? For doing what?"

A'deth considers, and then catches her hand so that he might dip her finger
in sour cream-- so that he might lick /that/ off. Since he doesn't say
anything, this must be his answer!

"Nay in the *Infirmary*." Kassima's shoulders shake with the laughter she's
trying to bury in prim fussiness, but that's a difficult thing to feign
when your finger is dancing with someone's tongue. "Y'know m'delicate
sensibilities better than that! And nay inviting 'em to the weyrs t'be
watching, either." She traces a slow line across his lower lip. "You could
compensate me for nay getting their marks some other way."

A'deth arches a brow. "But I'm /eating/." Sort of. "Unless you'd like me to
finish my meal elsewhere." On her, or somewhere else? He leaves that
ambiguous, too. /Lick./

"Elsewhere," Kassima murmurs, very low. "And... elsewhere. Aye." She tugs
his plate away with her other hand, shifting the remaining fish and sour
cream onto hers only somewhat shakily--she killed the poor fish, she cooked
it, it would be wrong to waste it. It'll still be good enough cold. And
much, much later. "Did you, by chance, have a place in mind?"

A'deth's smile is quite demure. "Yes, but best that I nibble there in
private, or they'll never let us in here again."

Kassima tugs a handkerchief from her pocket to drape loosely over the plate
as covering. "'Twould be the most enjoyable reason I've been banned," she
reflects. "Far and away above chopping off wherry heads, but--even so."
Sigh. Shard those sharding proprieties! She slips from her seat and rises
with grace more openly sensual than she likely knows, the plate in one
hand, the other still in his.

Part of her allure is her unselfconscious sensuality, at least to A'deth;
because it's natural, unaffected, it can't help but capture his jaded
attention. He follows her quickly enough, lacing his fingers through hers.
"I've picked where I'd like to nibble," he purrs. "You pick where you'd
like to be while I nibble."

It's something he brings out in her: his desire inspires her confidence and
so her sensuality, and they in turn inspire his desire. Both of them win in
the end. Kassima slides a glance down and to the side, to the cutlery
abandoned. "This table is eminently unsuitable for nibbling, I'm sure
you'll... you probably won't agree. Never mind. I recall you have a
table--" Green eyes find green eyes, and black eyebrows lift in such an
innocent expression! "And this time 'twouldn't be m'first time there, would
it?"

A'deth licks his lips, and then strides forward without another word,
tugging her along-- for she has given him ideas! And his expression has
become quite speculative.

Oh, dear. This would be a good time to be afraid, wouldn't it? Or maybe to
shiver with antici... pation. Guess which Kassi does as she goes out
hand-in-hand with him. Go on. Guess.