-------------------------------------------------------------------------- Letting Go Date: June 16, 2000 Places: Ularrith's and Cymrith's Ledge; M'rgan and Kena's Weyr Game: PernMUSH Copyright Info: The World of Pern is copyright(c) to Anne McCaffrey l967. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a registered copyright. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Kassi's Note: Before her twins were born, Kassima made an agreement with her nemesis of old: she would allow M'rgan and Kena, who wished more children but were unlikely to have any of their own, to foster them once they were of age. Under most circumstances they would have gone to her cousin Simaeva, like the rest of her children--but Kassi sympathized with her friends' difficulties and knew they had been loving, trustworthy foster parents to several children before. Now that Kimlyn and Kyjain are a Turn old, it's time for her to pass them to their new family... and though part of her bargain was that she'll always be a part of their lives, it's still not easy to let them go. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Log: You land on Ularrith's and Cymrith's Ledge. <*> From the weyr, M'rgan is in the weyr, making a bit of a ruckus as he cleans up some toys. As Lysseth lands he stops tossing toys about and pokes his head through the curtains. You slide off of Lysseth's neck to land beside her easily. She rumbles, cocking her head down at you, and you rub her eyeridges gratefully. M'rgan pushes the curtains aside, the cloth rustling softly. Kassima climbs down very carefully, as one would have to while wearing a doubly-occupied double-infant sling. "Mart," she says slowly and quietly as she looks around the ledge, "I have t'wonder why there's a giant pile of socks here. And I have t'be wondering whether I really want t'be knowing the answer." M'rgan edges around so that he avoids the pile of socks entirely. "Firelizard clutch," he grumbles, a grimace on his face. He hunches over as he nears Kassima, trying to get a look at the twins. "Are you sure that's comfortable?" Kassima's eyes rivet onto that pile. "Nay about t'hatch?" she asks warily, edging a bit further away. The twins are currently both sleeping, two drowsy black-haired, long-lashed bundles garbed respectively in green and blue. "For me? Nay terribly, but 'tis the best way of carrying them. For them? Nary a clue, but I doubt they'd notice." With a faint smile, she explains, "I took 'em t'Greystones t'be celebrating their Turnday a wee bit early, see, and they've been fussed over and played with enough t'be tuckered out." "I wouldn't be here if they were about to blow," M'rgan quickly comments, giving the socks a brief, wary look. Still hunched over, he lifts a hand, one finger slightly pointed as if to touch the cheek of the blue clad child. "I'll bet your family was happy to see them. I know my mother is looking forward to fussing over them. While she awaits a great-grandchild." "You can touch them," Kassi assures, "if'n you're gentle about it; if'n they can sleep through the trip over here... Lyss is never the smoothest of fliers." A statement which Lysseth greets with a snort. "Mum and Da are always glad t'be seeing the kidlings, though they're never content with the number... bright Faranth. Jannea *is* old enough for that, isn't she?" M'rgan lightly strokes the boy's cheek with his curled finger and his hand edges up to touch the lad's hair. "I'm not sure how much of J'lyn I see in him," he comments as he studies the boy's face. "How are their sleep habits? Do they nap much or...? Didn't Kena tell you?" He lifts his gaze from the child. "Jannea's going to be handfasted in the spring." Kassima wraps her arms lightly around the two, tilting her head to rest her cheek momentarily against Kimlyn's crown. "The chin," she supplies. "That is definitely nay m'chin. I think they look rather more like me, both of 'em--they've the eyes, the cheekbones--but 'tis hard for me t'be objective." She raises her head with a faint sigh. "As t'sleep--well, y'know one-Turn-olds, and twins are worse since when one wakes they both do. But on the whole, they're nay bad about it--just one nap in the afternoon suffices, if'n they've slept good the night a'fore." And now watch her eyebrows fly up. "She *is*? T'whom? Some Smithcrafter lad?" "SmithCrafter, yes. Lad, no." M'rgan rests his hands on the small of his back as he straightens, letting out a grunt. His age is catching up to him. "He's nearly my age. Well, a few turns younger. Loren. Their Craftsecond." He sighs deeply. "I shouted and shouted but I couldn't stop her...Hey, why don't you come inside and I'll show you their room." Kassima repeats, only remembering at the last second to keep her voice down, "*Loren*? I know him. A few Turns younger than you isn't so old, but a bit older than Jannea, I'd say... well, she should be comfortable as a Craftsecond's wife. Can't fault the match in that respect. A shame there's nay K in his name, though; nay fortunate K-children from her... oh, certes. 'Twould like t'see--and," she adds with wry humor, "get them settled in a'fore m'back breaks. They're nay sacks of firestone, but they're still a wee bit heavy." At Kassima's words, M'rgan stretches out his hands for the children, chagrin on his face. Not that there's really anything that he can do. "You should've said something," he mumbles as he takes a step back towards the weyr. "But as a Craftsecond's wife she'll have no reason to come here. He won't be posted to the Weyr." Oh, there's something he can do, and Kassi's quite glad to give him a chance to do it: she frees Kyjain of his sling and offers him to those temptingly outstretched hands. "You don't suppose that she might--just might, mind you--come here t'be seeing you and Kena?" she suggests, sounding faintly amused. M'rgan has never been one to resist a sleeping, non-barfing child so he immediately scoops Kyjain up, holding the boy against his chest with one arm so he won't be disturbed. "It's possible, I suppose. But if I held my breath the reason she'd be here would be for my funeral." The curtains swish as you open them. "Given that a man can die from lack of oxygen in a matter of minutes..." Kassi drawls, taking Kimlyn likewise into her arms as she follows him in. And, unable to resist the opportunity, takes a look around. "Nice place you've got here," she approves. "Rather more spacious than mine, by the look. Y'know, you could always go t'Smithcraft t'be seeing her, too. 'Tis only a dragon's hop away." M'rgan veers to one side only a few steps from the curtain, moving to a curtained doorway that leads to a tiny, cubby-hole of a room. Jannea's old room for those who remember previous visits. In there are two small beds and a few toys for toddlers, like blocks and dolls. "I know. But it wouldn't be the same. It's never the same." He smirks a touch as he watches Kassima look around. "Well, it is for two riders. And a horde of children." Kassima follows suit, and takes a much longer time examining *this* room. "'Twill do," she decides at length, smiling again, if crookedly. "'Twill do in very deed. I suppose I should be glad that Kay's only thirteen yet; 'twill be *awhile* ere she gets married, I devoutly hope. And you do have a point there, but mine's t'hold me, m'children--when they're very young or wanting t'stay--and all m'marks in, which means I have you beat after how many of the last I've suckered from you." "I thought you planned on turning her into a greenrider," M'rgan remarks as he stands behind Kassima, watching her face as she examines the twins' room. He's lightly patting Kyjain's back and is rocking in place to keep the boy soothed. "No matter how many you might sucker from me, I can always sucker more from the Holders." "Brownrider," Kassi corrects. "Or so *she'd* have it, nay matter how I may argue. Khari's the one who wants t'be a greenrider. Kris doesn't really show any leanings towards that direction; he's the brightest, 'twill tell you in confidence--but here I'm digressing again." She drops her head to brush a kiss atop Kim's soft, dark hair, and watches sidelong Mart's actions with her son. "You'll take good care of them," she says abruptly, neglecting--for once--to talk of marks. "Won't you?" "I'd say Kay's the smartest if she wants to be a brownrider," are M'rgan's first words as he can't resist the usual battle between them. But after a second he notices how serious Kassima seems and he sobers, nodding to her. "Of course. Better than my own." Just in case Kassi remembers Kegan's numerous bruises and scrapes. "Kena's got plenty of time now and I'm making time and Kegan and the girls will help. We'll take very good care of them." Kassima has to laugh, if quietly. "Plenty of time now. Aye, she would, t'Leya and E'vrin's indubitable dismay--more hidework for them." She frees one hand to reach out and brush Ky's cheek. "I know. Forgive me for asking; I didn't have to, a'course--if'n 'tweren't certain you would, 'twould never have agreed t'be letting you have them. 'Tis just a hard thing t'be letting 'em go. Mayhaps you can comprehend it." M'rgan turns to the side, as if to playfully bump shoulders with Kassima. "More than you know, Kassi. More than you know." He tilts his head, so that he's looking up at the greenrider. The patented George Clooney look. "Are you sure that you want to do this? Kena and I were really looking forward to having them but if you don't want to..." Kassima allows her shoulder to be bumped, even permits herself a wan smile. "Oh, aye. Poor 'Maeva, she doesn't really need a pair of active one-Turn-olds right now--she lost, y'know, that babe she and V'dan were going t'have. And twins, they really need more than one person t'care for 'em, d'you ken?" She shrugs; sighs. "'Tis best. Turning the first three over t'Simaeva was hard, but Kim and Ky, I'm turning them over to a whole new set of parents... 'tis what troubles me, I suppose, and 'twill get over that in time." M'rgan's eyes turn down, shadowed, as Simaeva's loss is mentioned. "You will still seem them all the time, I promise. And any time you want to. Just give us a bit of warning so that we can take care of...things." He looks at the child he is holding and gently cups his hand behind the boy's head, so that he can tilt Kyjain back a little and peer into his face. The boy's eyes are still closed so he takes that as a good sign. "Why don't we lay them down and you and I can get something to drink." Kassima nods once. "Aye... but 'tisn't the same." She offers a grin, though, one more genuine. "Still--I can bask in the thought that they'll be evil t'you through sheer, adorable, obnoxious toddler-ness; there's something t'be said for that. *And* for laying them down, and drinks. Kim's terrible t'get back t'sleep once she does wake, so I'm for avoiding that." The bedcovers aren't blue and green but brown and green. Ularrith's brown and Cymrith's green to be specific. M'rgan slides into the tiny room that has just enough space for him to step around to carefully lay Kyjain on the brown bed, tucking the covers over him and just under his chin. "The children of two greenriders," he whispers to Kassima. "How could they be anything but evil." Kassima, eyeing that dubious amount of room, is very careful about stepping in to set Kimlyn gently down on the green, smoothing back the little girl's hair and lingering there for a moment. "Just so long as they don't grow up t'wear disturbing leather things," she murmurs, slipping back out, "I'll be quite satisfied." "They won't," M'rgan says as he eases out of the room, giving a backward glance to make sure that both children are settled and fine. "That's another promise that I can make to you." In only a few steps he's into the middle of the weyr's main room. "Did you want wine? Or something else? I think Kena's got a nice red that she's been hoarding." "*Thank* you," Kassi mutters, giving a long look back over her shoulder before following. "Wine, beer, rum, whiskey, White Lightning, aught but ale unless that's all you have." M'rgan pulls a wineflask down from the shelf, unstoppering it to give the contents a whiff. He shrugs at the smell and grabs a wooden mug as well. He motions Kassima towards the battered couch before presenting her with the wine. "I'm sure that Lysseth will be glad to have you to herself again." Kassima accepts both seat and drink with a murmured thank you, taking a hearty gulp of the latter. "She shan't; the Wing and the other children still require m'time as much as ever. There never seem t'be enough hours in the day. At least I've managed t'keep up with m'gambling; I've nigh as many marks as I had ere that Weaver auction. You?" M'rgan disappears behind Kassima for a moment to put the guard in place against the twins' doorway so that they can't flee on him. After checking how secure it is by giving it a tug, he returns, sinking into the couch as well. "I'd have been surprised if you'd made up that loss already. You spent a fortune at that auction. I prefer to make the Weavers rich one dress at a time." Alas, the plots of the Doublemint Evil Twins have been foiled, and visions of vengeance dance through their sleeping heads. Their mother is cheerfully oblivious. "I did," she agrees. "One-hundred and two on me, and there was a rip-off; one-hundred and fifty on I'sai. I own a bronzerider. That'll surely come in handy someday." Telgar Weyr> J'lyn tickles I'sai. :) "Since the bronzerider is I'sai, I doubt it," M'rgan comments. He relaxes into the couch, resting an arm across its back and propping his ankle up on his left knee. "He's destined to destroy whatever plans you have...How's the wine?" Telgar Weyr> J'lyn says, "No sneaking on." Telgar Weyr> Kichevio blinks and looks around. I'sai? Where? Telgar Weyr> I'sai says, "Should've given squeakier leather. ;)" Telgar Weyr> Whinde wavels at Is! Telgar Weyr> Kichevio snugs I'sai! Telgar Weyr> J'lyn says, "Speaking of which, Kassi is no longer pregnant, and you still have no excuse. Time for a fashion show, I believe." Telgar Weyr> Whinde says, "The weaver hall is putting on a fashion show soonish. THe models will be modeling tables." Telgar Weyr> Whinde says, "No joke." Telgar Weyr> M'rgan aughs! I don't want to see I'sai's butt. *shudder*shudder*collapse* Telgar Weyr> J'lyn has a Turnday VERY soon. Like tomorrow. That would be a nice gift for Jaly: To see his gifts put to use. :) Telgar Weyr> Tania just so eyes you all. :) Telgar Weyr> I'sai waves to Maylia, and ... M'rgan again comes through in a pinch. Knew there was a reason I liked him. Telgar Weyr> J'lyn CACKLES at M'rgan! Kassima crinkles her nose at him. "You don't like him, do you? I've never been quite certain of why. *I* like him, but then, he reminds me a bit of me... oh, 'tis fine." She lifts the mug in a toast. "For someone who doesn't drink, you stock a fair vintage, hey?" Telgar Weyr> Kassima is not. Wearing. Buttless. Pants. Telgar Weyr> Kichevio offers mouth-to-mouth to M'rgan. <eg> Telgar Weyr> Kassima ;) Telgar Weyr> Whinde bets that Whinde would. Telgar Weyr> K'tyn peers at you all. "What? Where? I want to see Kassi wearing buttless pants!" Telgar Weyr> J'lyn can't breathe.... Only at TGW would you see that line... Telgar Weyr> I'sai copies Kassima. Telgar Weyr> K'nan says, "Hey. Don't tempt me to show up to a fashion show nude. *duck*" Telgar Weyr> J'lyn will bring 1/2 marks. :) Telgar Weyr> Whinde sniggers. Telgar Weyr> Kassima whapwhapwhapwhaps K'tyn. You're a sick man. ;) Telgar Weyr> K'tyn grins and makes squeezing motions with his fingers. "Yes." Telgar Weyr> Ryialla says, "Aw, c'mon, K'nan...show up to a fashion show nude... };)" Telgar Weyr> J'lyn still thinks it's rude not to wear a gift at least once in the presence of the gift-giver. Telgar Weyr> J'lyn :) Telgar Weyr> J'lyn grins. Mortification be damned! Wear the pants! FEAR the pants! "I like I'sai just fine," M'rgan says. As if there's anyone he doesn't like and L'cher doesn't count. "He's just not the most dependable or even...what's the word...sensical...Is that a word?...Anyway, I don't know what he's talking about half the time. And don't try to explain to me how he and M'kon can father children right and left and all Kena and I have is Kegan. But anyway..." He grins at Kassima while sucking in a breath. "...That's from Kena's stock. She's the one who knows her wines. Must be a greenrider or Thunderbolt thing." Telgar Weyr> K'nan shows up in J'lor's Pants. Then oyspams. Telgar Weyr> I'sai points out he doesn't want to have to Fear anything next to his skin. And then quiets. "Sensible?" Kassi hazards. "He's *reasonably* dependable; he went to that fashion show after I bribed him into it, y'know, even though he had t'wear overalls split down the sides and get bought by me. Poor man. Anyway, preferring men doesn't imply a lack of virility; the evidence is sleeping in the other room, I'll remind you." Another toast, this one towards the room where the twins sleep. "Excellent choice on Kena's part, then. She's always been a sensible woman. I'll miss her as 'second, and that's naught short of truth." "But it should," M'rgan grumbles to himself after the virility bit. "They just drop their pants a single time and there's a baby popping out nine months later. It's ridiculous." If the fates had been kind, he'd have had the number of kids that usually only come when a harem's involved. "I think she'll miss being a wingsecond. But something had to give. She was wearing herself out with all of her duties." "It could be pointed out that I do pretty much the same," Kassi points out over her mug's rim. "Some people are just like that. Aye, I can be sympathizing; 'tis nay easy thing, as I recall it, though nay quite so bad as Wingleading. I could wish I'd had more time t'get the two new ones broken in first--but 'twill nay complain; I worked with nay Wingseconds at all for a time. I can do this by all accounts." "It's the dragonhealing that's been taking up a lot of her time lately," M'rgan comments with a glance over his shoulder towards the twins' room. Was that a noise he heard? But all seems quiet there. "And she's not about to give that up. Her mothering instinct and all that." The man runs a hand through his hair as he turns back to Kassima. "So tell me everything we should know about the twins. What are you feeding them? What's their schedule like? Any favorite toys?" Kassima can't quite suppress a grimace. "I'm glad m'mothering instinct doesn't go that far," she mutters. "But someone's got t'do it. Anyway: food-wise, they're on solid food now, though softer things are better just yet; strawberries are Kim's favorite, methinks, and Ky likes bananas--and toys, oh, they've got a few things. I'll bring those over tomorrow, if'n 'tis all right?" Grinning broadly, M'rgan leans forward, in an attempt to lay his hand on top of Kassima's. "Tomorrow is fine. Whenever you like. I wasn't joking about that earlier. Whenever you want to stop by or take the kids, you can. They are *your* children." Kassima smiles and drains the last of the wine before setting the cup down to aim a pat at Mart's hand with her newly freed one. "Thankee, Mart. 'Tis silly of me t'be worrying about that, I know--and 'twill try nay t'be visiting *too* often; you'll be their parents too, you and Kena. But have nay hope that 'twill leave you alone entirely. The family would never forgive me if'n I didn't take the twins home for visits, y'know." M'rgan smirks and gives Kassima a little wink. "I'll have to make sure that they're given an unflattering haircut right before those family visits." "Do and 'twill throttle you with one of L'well's horrid floral scarves," Kassi threatens, rising to her feet. "For the nonce, 'twill leave you--a'fore I lose the nerve," she adds wryly. "If'n you need aught for 'em or help with 'em, I'm only a dragon's call away." M'rgan rises to accompany Kassima to the ledge and her lifemate. "We'll figure it out, I'm sure. But if we don't we *will* give you a call. They're in good hands." And he extends his arm to her, as if to give the greenrider a hug. "I know." Kassi turns to take grateful advantage of that offered hug, and return it. "I know. 'Tisn't just *any* archenemy that I'd be handing over two of m'children to. And 'twill be over in two days for their Turnday, you may be certain of it." Kassima nods once, and gives a last, long look towards that small room. Then, with a deep breath and tremulous half-grin, she turns and steps out for the ledge with perhaps some haste. The curtains swish as you open them.