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Strange Love


Date:  January 7, 2005
Place:  Ista Weyr's Sandbar
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:  Someone really should give M'rek and Kassi their own
reality show.  It couldn't be any worse than a lot of what's already
out there. ;)  In this episode, Kassi heads to the Sandbar to collect
the marks she won off M'rek when Ulfianth won Essieth's flight.  They
talk a little about the mission that brought them to Ista in the 
first place--but a great deal more about their secret, torrid love,
and the lust the bronzerider's bald head inspires.

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The Log:

You step into The Sandbar, brushing black sand off your feet as you enter.

The tune Kassi's whistling as she enters the bar is very pleasant and
cheerful; it would take someone with knowledge of such things to pinpoint
it as one of Pern's raunchier melodies, of the sort good, respectable women
doubtless shouldn't even know. Not that this would apply to *this* woman in
any case, but. "Duties, duties, duties," she greets the bar at large
amiably if not all that formally.

M'rek is sitting at a table in one of the corners, as well as one can in
this strangely built beach bar, nursing an ale while there are two empty
mugs on his table. He's kind of watching the door and so when Kassi strolls
in. The tune makes him laugh loudly and he kicks out a chair with one foot.
"There she is. Come to gloat?"

"You know it, M'rek-m'dear," Kassima answers with the same shameless cheer
with which she whistled, ambling to that chair so kindly provided and
tossing herself into it with a broad grin. "Gloat, collect marks, all that
good stuff. And probably wail about you owing me for bringing me into the
middle of a bloody goldflight of all things, in hopes of getting a round or
two purchased if'n naught else."

M'rek laughs and asks, "What's your poison today then, Kassi my unrequited
love? It's on me." And he does dig into a pocket and pulls out some partial
marks that he digs through until the right payment is found and put to the
surface of the table and then pushed over. "As for payment for getting you
stuck in a bloody goldflight. I beg to say it's Lord Ulf's fault. And yet I
still over you my oh so charming company to make up for it."

Kassima widens her eyes at him, doing her best to make them seem large and
guileless. "Unrequited? Whoever told you that, sweet man? I love you with
every fiber of m'being, but you know we must never let the others know. I'd
be lynched by an envious mob and Rodric would write a scathing song in
spite... although out of jealousy for which of us, I'm nay sure. Pick a
poison for me? You did well enough with that blue toxin, for all that I
still made it home half sober." Oh, horror. She gathers the marks, counts
them purely by reflex, and drops them into her belt-pouch with a clatter
against the marks already there. "A pleasure doing business, as always.
That's a bronzerider for you. Always blames the dragon. But since I doubt
Lord Ulfianth would be seen with the lowly likes of *me*, 'twill simply
have t'settle for yours. Oh, woe."

M'rek laughs mirthfully, "Aye. Ours is to be a secret love then, my
darling." He turns and orders her something that arrives looking clear in
the tall glass and yet will turn out to have a cool mint taste and a
warming quality for the mouth, throat and stomach. "Though. Might be worth
it if that's what it takes to get a song written for you. I mean. Even He
writes me a poem once in a blue moon." Laughter as the marks are counted.
"Aye. And I doubt he'd even be seen with the likes of /me/." He laughs,
"Well. Any luck last night then?" The question could be taken many ways.

"Indeed. We shall have t'keep it t'longing looks of smoldering passion
thrown across Living Caverns and bars all over Pern, and the occasional
note full of gushing about the color of m'eyes and the gleam of your
cranium passed through confused intermediaries." Kassima manages to get
this out with a straight face, but breaks into helpless snickers soon
after; it's a moment before she can accept her drink and grin her thanks to
the one who delivered it. "I've had a few songs written for me--or at least
about me. Scarily enough. Nay by Roddy, though, as far as I know. He does?"
She needs a drink if she's going to take in that idea, so she sips, and
makes an appreciative noise. "You've learned of m'nay-so-secret mint
weakness. You're saying that Lord Vorlin writes poetry? For you?" The wide
eyes aren't so feigned this time. "Pshh. I'd comment upon him having poor
taste, then, but since he did chase Lyss, I'm nay allowed. The
flight-night, y'mean?" She quirks up one brow. "Might depend on what you
mean by luck... nay the sort of luck 'twas expecting. And certes nay the
sort of luck *you* got. Which is fine, because goldriders aren't much t'my
taste."

M'rek laughs more, "Speaking of confused intermediaries, Yselle came by
yesterday to tell me something that was so confusing I can't even remember
what it was, other than that she and you were lusting for m'smooth head."
Teasingly and then he strikes a pose for her that goes with a broad grin
before, "Many songs, huh? Any of them make for good drinking tunes?" Then,
"Aye. He writes poetry. Very good stuff if you like poetry. Has a
collection of it, but he's hidden it of late and I can't find where he
moved it to. Sharding Lord Holder." Then he's pleased, "Aye? Mint's a
weakness huh? Then I did choose well indeed. Aye. Flight night. So no luck
at all then? I was hoping we'd catch the bald man. We're not the only ones
here looking for him, it would seem. I'm just hoping that so many hunters
won't send him to ground."

Now Kassima's the one confused. "She told you *what*? Faranth, nay like I'm
going t'deny the lust thing, but how'd *she* find out? All I can recall
saying about you lately is that I won marks off of you when Essieth rose...
oh, aye, and that the question of what I'd have done if'n you'd lost the
flight was moot because of your brownrider. I certes didn't think of it as
a lusty statement. Her lust, now, I'd nay doubt." She delivers this last
rather dryly, but breaks into a grin when he poses and sets her glass down
to fan herself and slump in her chair in a brief mock-swoon. "Oh, *M'rek*!
Hmm, but I don't think so. Beyond that any tune starts seeming like a good
drinking tune when you've been drinking enough. I find the mental image of
you hunting around the Hold for his volume of secret poetry highly
entertaining, for some reason. Aye; if'n I hadn't left m'jacket outside,
'twould offer you a mint stick. I always carry a few." Back to the other
topic. "I don't know about nay luck 'tall. I didn't see the bald one, but I
did see two acquaintances of yours. Might never have guessed that one *was*
an acquaintance, except that the other has... a rather distinctive laugh."
The other brow rises now, and there's a hint of amusement gleaming in her
eyes. "Happened t'eavesdrop on a conversation those two were having with
some men who knew of the man."

M'rek waves a hand, "That's not what she said. The lust part. It was just
the weirdst thing I could think of to go with the weirdness Yselle shared.
Or almost shared. That lass can be an odd on." He laughs then, "My
brownrider. You know. I hadn't seen her in months before this very
afternoon." He grins, "Mint stick? That sounds like just the thing to keep
your breath ready for any midnight wandering Harpers looking for a smooch
on the lips." The laughs just never end. "Aye? That laugh. Yes. That one
would have a hard time hiding that I'd think. I'd heard she was dressed
like a fisher's wife. Was it so?" And then he leans closer, looming over
his mug of ale and excitement blooming in his eyes, "What did you hear?"

"Where men are concerned, I can believe it," Kassi mutters into her liquor,
with a rueful headshake. "But they go for her anyway, oft enough. 'Tis so?"
The surprise this time is real. She pauses mid-motion in taking a sip to
give him a look with that surprise and concern both in it. "Is all well
between the two of you? You don't sound so very dismayed, but... well,
Roddy hasn't complained about m'breath yet." Her brows waggle outrageously.
"Nor Vel. So it must be working. You should have seen--the braid suited her
enough; can't go wrong with a black braid, but the clothes were...
interesting." She moves her glass to the side enough to allow her to lean
forward to answer. "Sounded as if'n they hadn't seen him since the last
month. I decided t'ask m'self--on behalf, I said, of a certain acquaintance
who was owed a favor, and was too busy gold-digging elsewhere t'actually do
his job-seeking himself," with a moment's wicked grin for him. "They
confirmed 'twas the same man--and that he should be back early next month."

"Gold digging." M'rek snickers at this and then nods, "Next month then,
aye? Well. Just have to keep the old eyes open. I guess our friends will be
back next month as well." He shakes his head a bit, "Interesting." And then
he leans back and laughs, "Aye. Tis so. She's a good one though, that
Brownrider. And talking to her makes it seem like no time at all has
passed. We're okay I think, she and I. Even if it has been a long time, and
I'm avoiding such things, after what happened over at Keroon." He sips at
his ale, "I bet there aren't any complaints. You certainly look sweet to
kiss."

Kassima agrees, "Seems likely. I'm sure they've a vested interest, all
told. D'you still want company in your looking? It could be a good thing,
the flight--you've every reason t'be here; 'twill nay seem odd at the
least." Pause. Drolly, "At least for those who know you well enough t'look
for you where the liquor is. I met her at the clutching, y'know, that
lady," with a subtle shift in tone to suggest the lady in question is Sria.
"Met again, I should say. She seemed a good one. What happened at Keroon...
is that so likely t'happen again?" It's a serious question, but seriousness
is dispelled by the laugh that's won by the last. "Men have paid for the
privelege," she informs with a wink. "Actually, one really did, which is
the frightening thing. And he didn't ask for his money back after."

M'rek slants a grin and nods, "Aye. I would like your help with this one,
Kassi. If you've a mind to? I think it'll take some help to dig into. Also,
I'm not really completely confident on where it's going. Anyway. Maybe we
can get to the bald man before all his fingers are cut off." He shakes his
head and looks rueful before he smiles once more, "Aye. She said she'd met
you at the clutching. That's good. Kasedy happened at Keroon. Maybe I
should give you details on that sometime." He glances around and then
sighs. "Shards. Ulf says I'm wanted elsewhere than where I wish to be. Put
your drinks on my tab, Kassi-love and I'll see you around?" It's a question
and yet he doesn't seem to have time to wait for the answer because he's to
his feet and moving towards the beach and his cool looking dragon.