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It's Not Easy Being Green


Date:  July 6, 2003
Place:  Telgar Weyr 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:  Okay, first off, all credit for this log title goes to 
Javinia.  Yay, Javi!  Thank you for bailing me out when my dubious
creative abilities were failing me!  And boo to me for not using this
one before now, jeeze.  Second, this log directly follows the one of
Kassi, Alessi, and Kich's trip to Fort.  (Well... pretty directly.
Kassi spent an hour or two on the Star Stones pondering and being 
pensive and stuff.)  It's unconnected, though; primarily, it's about
Yselle, and Our Heroine trying to answer some of Yselle's questions 
about flights.  She also stuffs tubers au gratin down some drunk 
guy's shirt.  Let it never be said that Kassi doesn't have her uses.

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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.

Yselle watches Mirah wander off. "Hm," is all she says. "You know, you're
very pretty," the subject change is rather sudden, but she's smiling at
Hannah. "I bet they'd annoy you as well. They don't usually pay any
attention to me."

Tonight, Kassi lets a brief and halfhearted glare suffice as her response
to Pierron's greeting. She looks rather weary, and unusually frazzled,
which may be the reason. "Someone has got t'tell me one of these days *why*
I wanted another baby so badly," she informs the room without preamble,
running fingers back through her bangs, then starts for the food
table--it's only when she's halfway there that it occurs to her to say, a
bit sheepishly, "G'deve and such too, all. Anyone know, is there cider
tonight? Or citron juice? I'd settle for either."

Hannah quirks a brow and lets her gaze wander over to the table of rowdy
riders. "Annoy me? I'd like to see them try!" She grins and winks at one of
the riders whose gaze is upon her. Strangely enough, at this overtly
forward act, the rider actually blushes and seems to bury his head in his
drink. Hannah looks back at Yselle and grins. "See what I mean?" She takes
another sip of her wine and then cocks her head to one side. "Pretty? Thank
you, my dear."

Yselle slides a curious glance at Hannah. "How do you /do/ that?" she
wonders. "That's just... amazing. They're always bugging Mirah." She tosses
a salute to Kassima. "Wingleader," she says, grinning at the other woman.
She's holding Levarn in her arms, and he's busy demolishing a sweetcake all
over his mother. "Is your baby sick? I haven't seen what they've got here,
but Mirah's looking, she'd know."

Pouring herself another mug of klah Mirah's face only grows reder. "Shards!
Leave me be you drunken deadglows!" says loudly without looking at the
group. "Oh ho, she has a temper on her too. Fire to match her hair?"
chuckles one exceptionally drunk fellow. Turning on her heel in fury Mirah
catches sight of Kassima, anger subsiding she salutes "Wingleader." growing
all the more reder by the minute she finished pouring her klah and retreats
to her seat, ignoring any further cat-calls.

Hannah shrugs a bit at Yselle's comments and grins. She leans in a bit and
whispers, "They're really all bravado. Big men around their friends, but
get them alone and they're usually all full of wherry feathers!" She winks
and sits back to take a sip of her wine.

"Weyrling Wingleader," Kassi returns with a grin, saluting Yselle back.
"And Weyrling." That goes with her salute for Mirah. "G'deve, again. I
don't think Kazy's sick--just cranky, a bit of colic mayhaps, but it took
him forever t'be getting t'sleep, and that on top of a long evening. So I'm
fair bushwhacked." She skirts the throng of the room to reach the food,
investigating the pots; she calls as an almost-absent aside to the
hecklers, "Leave the Weyrlings alone or 'twill either rip your spleens out
through your nose, or do worse, and tell I'sai what you've been up to. Have
they been like this all evening?"

Yselle nods to Kassima's question. "Pretty much," she says. "Talking about
flights and stuff," her colour heightens again. "You really should stay
away from them Mirah." Hannah receives a sharp glance. "Really?" she's just
a little wistful. "Tel's like that, but, well, he's Tel."

Harolf has apparently managed to disengage himself with a rather talkative
resident, badgering him about a very unprofitable game of dragon poker he
recently played. Apparently Harolf is his confessor. "Well, no, actually
that /is/ rather a lot of marks to gamble. When did you get so foolish?"
The other man just shrugs, sadly and trudges away. Harolf finally takes a
moment to get his bearings.

Hannah nods approvingly at the Wingleader's easy handling of the situation
and then smiles at her companions. "So what news is there that I can take
back to the Hall.

Kassima snorts softly, pouring herself a glass of citron juice. "Should've
known. As if'n that's apt t'be an issue soon as far as you're concerned...
they'd do better t'leer at riders of mature greens. Except for the part
where they'd probably get someone's boot-toe through their eye for trying."
She stretches out one leg to the side so that she can consider the toe of
her own boot thoughtfully. "Even mine might be up to the task. Hey,
spiderclaws!" Once she's gathered a small plate of the shellfish, she
ambles away, towards her Wing's table, where she seats herself and her
meal. "How many marks did he wager?" she asks Harolf, watching the
departing man with interest. "Mayhaps I should look him up, next time I
have something t'bet on. I wonder if'n he's thought of laying marks on the
Fort eggs...?" Belatedly, as she turns back to her food, she catches
glimpse Hannah's knot. "Oh, duties t'Weaver and her Masters, Journeywoman.
You aren't here on a mission for Katlynn, are you?"

Hannah smiles and shakes her head to Kassima. "Not her specifically. I'm
just running some errands with the local weavers.'

Yselle shrugs. "I don't know much news," she admits. "We've spent most of
the last few months in the barracks. I've hardly even managed to see
Levarn." The boy is now dribbling down her shirt, lovely cakey-dribble. She
glances gratefully at Kassima. "Thanks wingleader," she murmurs, although
whether the woman hears her from so far away is anyone's guess. "I'd rather
wait until.. later to deal with that."

Mirah nods agreeing with Yselle, sipping her klah she is huddled in her
seat trying to be small. Suddenly her slight frame stiffens and she cocks
her head to one side in listening pose. "Oh my excuse me, Trinaith informs
my she has a terrible itch that awoke her." she says slurping down the rest
of her klah and standing up from the table. "G'eve to all of you." she says
turning and trotting past the tables to much more quiet comments. "You lot
just wait!" she says turning a brandishing her knife at the rude group.
"You wait and see what happens in flight, that'll teach you!" she says
before turning on her heel and stomping out of the cavern.

Harolf seems surprised to be addressed, to be blunt. "Ah, hello hello,
Wingleader. He said he gambled two full marks away. It seemed a little much
for him; he's been trying to commision a beautiful dress for his wife.
Well, I'm certain that whatever I might've said, he'll hear it a thousand
times louder when he finally turns up to sleep." He watches Mirah depart
and the the table of drunken and intemperate riders. "It'll serve them all
right too," he murmurs softly. With that he decides to get himself a drink.
Something he neglected to handle formally before he was distracted.

"G'deve!" Kassi calls after Mirah--while stifling a grin at that
knife-brandishing. "Oh, dear. I half hope Is stresses the bit about trying
nay t'hurt anyone when you're proddy, if'n you can... and I half hope he
doesn't. Poor lass." Relief's obvious on the greenrider's face as she nods
to Hannah. "Good, good--ah, nay offense meant t'Kat. But still, good. Did
they need supplies or something? Ach, Yselle, he's dribbling on you." Not
that this keeps her from waggling her fingers cheerfully to the little boy,
with a smile. "Hey there, laddy-boy. You shouldn't *have* t'wait until
later, agreed--shells, you shouldn't have t'deal with it at all. But some
maleriders will be maleriders, Faranth help us." She turns to Harolf next,
after picking a spiderclaw up from her plate to crack. "Two marks? Huh. Nay
as worse as it could've been, then, though certes nay a good loss in
dragonpoker. Mayhaps 'twill be kind and nay propose any bets to him for at
least a little while."

Mirah walks down the short tunnel and out into the bowl.

Yselle eyes Mirah thoughtfully. "I wonder," she murmurs. "I just wish... oh
well," she shrugs "No use worrying about it. Tel's stories can't /all/ be
true. They usually aren't, anyway," even with such a heartying thought, she
looks a little worried. She looks down at the boy. "Oh Levarn," but her
voice is fond, and she's smiling. "Honestly... I don't care. It's /good/ to
just hold him."

Hannah chuckles to the greenrider and nods. "I've never had children
myself, so..." She shrugs with a smile.

Kassima gives Yselle a considering look over her spiderclaw leg. "Y'know,
Mirah had a few questions about that matter, the other day. I don't know
if'n 'tis exactly what Is had in mind when he thought of this
Wing-shadowing, talk about flights, but I didn't mind talking t'her about
it; if'n you have questions...." She lets it trail off, and the offer stay
implicit. "I do understand that. When he's nay screaming in m'ear or making
a mess on me, I love it that Kaswyn's still small enough t'be holding. I
really love it--and him--regardless, but there's much t'be said for peace
and for nay being thrown up on. I'd warrant you've plenty of time t'worry
about 'em," she adds to Hannah, "if'n you want 'em, or want 'em later--you
don't seem terribly old, if'n 'tisn't impolite of me t'say so. What does
the man's wife want a dress for?" This she asks of Harolf, with sudden
curiosity. "Is there some Gather due I've nay heard about yet?"

Hannah smiles and nods to Kassima, draining her drink. She stands and
excuses herself with a smile to her table companions. "I really should find
those weavers now. Thank you for your hospitality."

Hannah walks towards the inner cavern.

Harolf shakes his head, aiming the gesture over his shoulder at Kassima.
"I'm afraid not," he says. "Just preparing, I suppose. You can't make a
fancy dress in day." He glances toward the departing Weaver. "Can you?" He
seems genuinely puzzled by the prospect. Without further delay he busies
himself choosing something to drink. One of the blueriders lurches toward
the handyman -- the poor resident completely unawares, although the table
of them gets a bit louder with drunken chortling. Some malicious chairleg
forms a conspiracy with the riders drunken sense of balance and he tips
himself right onto the floor, much to the delight of his chums. Harolf,
however, gets the worst of it, being sprayed by a lethal concoction of ale
and wine. "Ah, bother," the handyman says with a deep frown. He flings his
dripping arms up and down for a second, sending secondary drips flying
through the cavern. "'Sssorry 'bout tha' chum," the rider says before
beginning to snore loudly.

The relief on Yselle's face is almost comical. "You would? I'd love to,
well, if you didn't really mind wingleader. Just..." she looks around. "Not
here, maybe?" She strokes Levarn's hair, and then scoops down to a nearby
table, using a cloth there to wipe up the worst of the dribble. "I know he
didn't get delivered by the firelizards, I know it sounds silly, but...yes
please?" Harolf's predicament causes her eyes to widen. "Oh here," she
leans down, grabs another cloth, and tosses it his way. Spot the mother.

Kassima waves the spiderclaw leg after the departing Weaver. "Hope she has
luck in her errand; she seemed a nice sort... remarkably sane, for a
Weaver. Mind you, knowing Katlynn's probably biased me. Hmm?" She considers
the question, drumming fingers against the tabletop. "Nay Weaver am I, but
I'd hazard nay. Nay a dress of any quality. It always takes Simian a long
time t'make up mi--watch it!" The warning's too late, of course, and she
shuts her eyes in exasperation as the collision happens. "*Please*, sweet
Faranth, tell me I never behave so much the idiot when I'm as sotted as
they. *Honestly*." She holds up a hand in a one-moment gesture to Yselle,
getting to her feet and returning to the food table. The Weyrling's already
got the wiping-cloth covered, so she busies herself instead with scooping a
ladleful of cooled, congealed tubers-and-cheese from a dish and attempting
to stuff this down the neck of the unconscious rider's tunic. "Just in case
he doesn't feel foolish *enough* when he wakes up. A'course, Yselle, and
gladly; later, then?"

Harolf manages to single-hand catch the cloth; a rare feat of agility for
the handyman. And in spite of everything, he can't help but give a good
solid laugh or two as Kassima offers her own unique lesson of the night.
Harolf starts to wipe down with the cloth, but there's too much liquid.
"Well, ladies, it appears I need to change here. I ought to turn in anyway,
though. I will wish you both a good evening." He heads for the interior of
the weyr, still dabbing at his clothes.

Harolf walks towards the inner cavern.

Yselle laughs at Kassima's actions. "He's going to regret that tomorrow,"
she says. Turning, she glances at Harolf. "It'd probably be a good idea,"
she says. "Good evening to you, handyman, and clear skies." She nods to
Kassima "I'd really appreciate that."

"'Tis what he gets for doing that and then falling asleep in the *Cavern*,"
Kassi explains with a grin, pleased by the reaction. "Sorry again about the
idiots--g'devening! G'luck in getting the wine a'fore it stains!" She
returns the ladel to its dish and brushes her hands off, then steps away
from the prostrate victim. "Actually, since the others 'twere speaking with
have cleared out, I could be discussing it now if'n you wanted? Or another
time, whatever's better for you. Just name the place."

Yselle glances at her, looking a little panicked. "Uh... I guess now is as
good a time as any. Should we maybe... I don't know, get some klah and sit
somewhere quiet?" She blushes "I'd just rather nobody heard is all. I know
it's silly, but."

Kassima glances about, surveying the room; she spots a smaller table in a
poorly lit corner and points to it. "There, mayhaps? I don't blame you for
nay wanting t'be heard. 'Tis a sensitive business; there's nay shame in that."

Yselle looks relieved. "Thanks wingleader," she mutters. She shifts Levarn
in her arms. The child has long since gone to sleep. "That /does/ look like
a good spot." She heads over to the table, and shifts the boy onto her lap.

Kassima gathers her plate and mug, abandoning her chair for one at the
agreed-upon table. "D'you want me t'get you some klah?" she asks, gesturing
towards the pitchers. "As long as I'm up? Shells, don't mention it. Trust
me when I say I understand nervousness about this particular topic quite
well."

Yselle nods. "Please. I would, but..." she indicates Levarn. "I'm worried
about carrying it when I have him, and I don't want to let him go until I
have to."

"That, too, I can be understanding." Kassi flashes a sympathetic smile, and
goes to fetch a mug of klah. She sets it in front of the younger woman when
she returns, then settles into her seat. "Is it a specific question you
have? Or specific questions?"

Yselle glances over at the group of rowdy blueriders. She shifts Levarn's
weight on her lap. "It's... Kass... I mean wingleader, I'm scared. Do you
think that's stupid? It's not like I don't have him," she glances down at
the boy, "But..."

One corner of Kassi's mouth lifts at the name-slip, but her expression
settles back into sympathy soon enough. She taps a fingernail absently
against the side of her mug. "I don't think 'tis stupid at all--more like
human nature, t'fear the unknown. And you can't *know* what a flight's like
until you've been through one. Even more than that, I'd guess that what you
do know's probably nay that comforting... 'tis different than bedding
someone without dragons being involved, in ways. What exact
part--parts?--are you scared about?"

Yselle bites her lip. "All of it," she mutters finally. "I don't remember
much of this," she looks down at Levarn. "We were so drunk, it happened so
fast, I just... don't remember, and I'm scared they'll wake up and see me
and... be really sorry it was me." That last is said so red-faced, she
buries her face in the child's hair. "I never had a boyfriend."

Kassima's reply, when it comes--she gives the young greenrider a moment to
recompose herself--is soft. "I didn't, either. I've also had that same
worry. There was once, when the brownrider I woke with yelped, and fell out
of bed in his haste t'get away...." She's silent a moment, then shakes her
head emphatically. "I can't be telling you any malerider will be happy
t'wake up next t'you, though if'n the reason they're displeased is that
they don't find you comely, well, they're runner's arses. I can tell you
that any *experienced* malerider will probably know better and be
understanding. As will any of your clutchmates--the most likely
inexperienced riders--who know you, I'd hope. Thing with flights is, nay
matter *who* 'tis, nay matter even what gender they are, you enjoy yourself
at the time.... Also: having had him," she nods to Levarn, "and been with
someone a'fore will help even if'n you don't remember. Some do advise
having your first time be a'fore a flight, especially if'n you're female,
since with the first time usually comes pain. You shouldn't have t'worry
about that, at least."

Yselle sighs. "I just can't help thinking... Mirah's pretty you know, those
riders, they're always bothering her, and well, I'm not sorry that sort of
thing happens for her, I think she likes it, for all she yells about it.
Just... I really wish it'd be someone who just didn't mind, about, you
know," she indicates her face. "Yes. What you said." She pauses and she
says "It's not like that all the time then?"

"Methinks you might be right. Though she'd probably like it better if'n
they toned it down some, and were gentlemen--'tis one thing t'be
appreciative, another t'be rude." Kassi casts a droll glance in the
direction of the unconscious rider. "Well." She turns thoughtful eyes back
onto her tablemate. "There isn't much way--as far as I know--that you can
choose who *does* catch Dianneth; Dianneth, mayhaps, can choose, but even
that's questionable. She might avoid someone you absolutely despised, but
that's a different thing." She starts to nibble at her lower lip, thinking.
"Whoever 'tis won't mind during the... well, the act, y'know. And nay,
nay--oh, nay, sex isn't always like the first time." Although she's turned
slightly red herself, she tries to explain: "The first time is painful;
after that, 'tisn't so, unless something's very wrong. 'Tis *supposed* t'be
a pleasurable act. When dragons are involved, it *is*, always, whoever
you're with. Because you feel the dragons' pleasure, y'ken? You feel all
the joy, and lust, and desire, and satisfaction, and everything they do...
and dragons enjoy mating quite a lot."

Yselle blushes fairly brightly herself. "Kass, could I leave? Would it be
rude to just... go, afterwards? You know, I know I can't go until it's all
over." She's having trouble being coherent. "You know, us as well as the
dragons. But after that, before they have time to notice. Could I go?" she
sounds miserable. "I don't want someone like that," she looks over at the
drunk blueriders "I don't want that. I don't want /them/ to say anything,
you know? I just don't want to be there."

Kassima blows out a long breath. "You could; there's naught that says you
couldn't--'twouldn't be seven levels of polite. Would you want someone t'do
it t'you? But people do it, and you could, if'n you're nay one of those
who's so exhausted you always fall asleep after, or if'n you wake first.
I'truth, if'n you did end up with one of *them*... it might be best. Some
riders probably aren't worth being polite to if'n it hurts you." She
pauses. Her voice turns very gentle. "I wish I could be telling you that
you don't have aught t'worry about, but I'd be lying. The flights can be
awkward that way, waking up with someone you'd never have bedded of your
own will, or whom you think never would have bedded you. I *don't* think
though that any rider worth his or her salt would flinch away if'n you
don't match their ideal of beauty. Think on it--most riders who've been
through a few of these have ended up with someone whose entire *gender* was
unappealing to them. And it is awkward and sometimes uncomfortable. But we
all have t'do it, and understand."

"I never thought of that," Yselle says slowly. "About, you know, it maybe
being the wrong gender. I suppose it's not so bad," she doesn't sound
entirely convinced, but it's a start. "Tel doesn't talk about that bit. It
doesn't bother /him/ if it's a boy or a girl or what it is, but... does it
still bother you? Flights, I mean, or is it okay? I'm starting to feel a
bit helpless. Dianneth's no help at all. /She/ says whoever wins will be
lucky, you know, and that she wouldn't let the wrong person win, and that I
should trust her. Tel just wants to joke about Faenth winning every flight.
S'vyn gets all uncomfortable, it's too early to ask I'sai... I mean the
weyrlingmaster."

Grinning wryly, and with more rue than actual humor, Kassi admits, "It
still bothers me a bit. I mean, I accept it--Lysseth's worth aught; she's
certes worth the oddness of waking up with a woman from time t'time!
Especially since I usually don't remember it, when 'tis a woman. And she's
worth waking up with men I mayhaps don't care for or don't know too, come
to that. But my preference is still firmly for men, and finding I've been
with a woman will probably always be unsettling for me. I did get more used
to it, though. Lyss's first--I'd never had any experience at all, and she
was caught by a blue whose rider was female, whom I'd never met in m'life.
I can't even describe how disquieted 'twas, though mayhaps you can imagine.
But we just went our separate ways; naught more was expected, y'know?" She
rolls her shoulder in a helpless shrug. "You just accept what happened and
move on, usually, whoever 'tis. Occasionally if'n I've really liked the
person and they liked me it turned out t'be more an experience t'be enjoyed
than something t'just deal with, but if'n that isn't how your first goes,
that's nay at all unusual." The grin that flickers across her face
afterwards is more genuine. "Trust Tel. Is will give you all a lecture
about all this later, but sometimes talking one on one t'someone about it
helps more, aye?"

"Maybe it'd be easier," Yselle muses "If it were Tel I mean. Oh he's a pain
in the rear end, I know, but he's my friend, you know? I guess.... did you
ever hope it'd be someone /really/ special? Like... oh one of those silly
harper tales where they always live happily ever after?" she looks wistful.
"Someone who was /glad/ it was you, and never wanted to let you go?
Wouldn't it be nice if it could be like that?" She fidgets, causing Levarn
to stir on her lap. "This must be the silliest conversation you ever had."

Kassima's smile, this time, is slightly pained. And more than slightly
wistful. "I've hoped from time t'time, aye... I've just never been lucky
that way. Some people seem t'be; if'n it doesn't last forever, at least
they do get Turns of love out of it. But me, nay so much. Best I can say
I've had is someone who seemed pleased enough 'twas me, and cared for me as
friend, and treated me well; even seemed t'have desire, after, when the
dragons aren't so... there. The only flight I had that led to a
relationship ended somewhat badly. I'm just a ray of sunshine, aren't I?"
She chuckles low in her throat, wry again. "Nay, though--'tisn't silly, it
really isn't. There is something t'be said about it being a friend.
Depending on the nature of the friendship--some friends can be as awkward
in their way as a stranger, but usually that's been what worked out best
for me."

"It was pretty awful last time," Yselle confesses, her voice low. "Oh not
/that/ bit. Well if it was, as I said, I don't remember, except it hurting,
although Tel always says it's always wonderful for his lovers, you know?
But after that... neither of us knew what to say to eachother. I think it'd
be weird if it happened again, but I really can't think of anyone it
/wouldn't/ be weird with, you know? R'var will probably end up with Mirah
if she has anything to say in it, and it'll all be wonderful for her, I
guess. But as for me... I don't know."

"I don't know that a woman's first is ever completely wonderful," Kassi
murmurs, voice pitched very quietly indeed, "so there's nay great shame to
either of you if'n 'twasn't... but, aye. One good thing--if'n 'tis a
flight, it might be awkward, but methinks 'tis *less* awkward than waking
up from a drunken escapade; and I've had experience with both, t'be
judging. You both know in a flight that neither of you *chose* this, 'tis
just something you did for the dragons; and it doesn't *have* t'change your
relationship." She picks at the spiderclaw bits left on her plate. "I
suggested t'Mirah that if'n she were so minded, she might try t'find
someone t'be with, a'fore, so it wouldn't be quite so much an unknown for
her. You don't have quite the same issue, but... if'n you can think of
anyone you'd like t'pair with a'fore she flies, and think they might be
willing, you might try that too, if'n you can get the nerve t'suggest it. I
don't know that I could! But it sounds t'me like even though you have
experience, you don't remember much; and mayhaps having a positive
experience you can remember would make the flight experience easier even
if'n the waking up ends up odd. I don't know, though. You'd know whether
'twould help at all better than me."

Yselle runs her hand through her hair. "It's maybe a good idea. Or it would
be if I knew someone who ...might.. you know? I don't expect it to be like
the harper's tale or anything, just... maybe someone who'd be glad I was
there, you know? That'd be nice. To be honest, I don't think I /could/ ask
anyone. I'd feel so embarrassed. What if they said no?"

Kassima admits, "That's why I don't know if'n I could do it. I don't think
I've ever propositioned someone, exactly, come t'that. Would Tel still be
awkward now? He'd seem on the surface most likely--he does care about you,
he seems pleased enough t'bed people, and women are included in his
preference."

Yselle blushes. "I couldn't ask Tel!" she says, her voice louder. She
hushes herself almost immediately "I mean, /Tel/. Could you imagine? S'vyn
would be awfully upset, and I'd /never/ live it down. He'd be sidling up to
me with propositions all the time. Ew."

Kassima has to duck her head to hide her laughter, though the shaking of
her shoulders probably gives her away. "All right, point, point. Though I'm
sure he propositions you all the time *anyway*. And I'd guess asking S'vyn
is out? Though the expression on his face, being propositioned by the
mother of his weyrmate's son...." More silent laughter. "But that's nay a
helpful suggestion, is it? Pshhh. I don't know. I'truth, mayhaps you'll be
doing best if'n you just leave it be and take the flight as it comes. 'Tis
very seldom as bad as a new rider expects, and there's less embarrassment
in it; and if'n all else fails, you can leave if'n you're appalled by the
person. Or they might leave; some maleriders do."

Yselle coughs, "I couldn't ask S'vyn either," she says, not seeming /quite/
as amused by this as Kassima was. "For starters, I can't see him sleeping
with a girl, and for second, he's a one man man. I think he'd be really
upset, and I /like/ being friends with him. You're probably right, Kassima.
It's probably better to just let it happen and hope it's not too bad."

"Aye, those are both good reasons nay to," Kassi manages to be serious
enough to agree. "If'n you can't really think of alternatives... well, it
probably is. And they really *aren't* that bad. I've survived Turns of 'em,
and I'm nay exactly a sexually promiscuous or terribly flexible
preference-wise creature. You won't be the only one nervous, either; far
from it. And even the 'pretty' ones like Mirah will have as much chance of
waking up with someone who isn't thrilled t'wake up beside 'em as you." She
exhales a slightly frustrated sigh. "I wish I could think of more t'say
about that. I feel like I haven't been very much help t'you."

Yselle corners her eyes at Kassima. "No," she says slowly. "I think it's
helped. I mean... it's still the same stuff, right? Sleeping with someone,
and maybe they don't want you, and it all being scary and stuff, but it's
good I guess to know that I'm not the only one who feels like this, and..."
she pauses "it feels more real, you know what I mean? I don't know, less
weird, more ordinary. Does that make sense?"

Kassima flicks a brief smile. "They'll nigh certainly want you when the
flight happens. That's something oddly comforting, methinks--there *is*
desire; they can't claim, whoever they are, whether they're pleased or nay,
that 'twasn't there or 'twas feigned. Still, it can be scary, and you're
definitely nay alone. It does make sense. In Weyrs, this is ordinary. Weird
to a Hold-bred mind, but a regular part of our lifestyle--and, shells, the
maleriders get it worse than we do in most ways. We might have t'face
flights a few times a Turn at most; most males chase more oft than that! So
everyone's in the same boat, in one way or another."

Yselle ponders this. "I never thought of that," she says slowly. "I /am/
from a hold, wingleader. Where I come from, what happened to me is really
weird -- Levarn I mean. That just /doesn't/ you know? People who have
babies are married."

"And so am I. With all m'relatives with children married indeed, save
one--save one who's nay a rider, at least--and her the family's great
scandal." Kassima shakes her head. "In a Hold, how we live might seem
unnatural and perverse. I'truth, I still find some parts of it perverse, or
odd, or beyond m'comprehension, and I've been a rider many times over how
long 'twas a Holder. But we do what we must for our dragons, and if'n that
means nay marriage, and children born t'people who'd never met a'fore, and
tumblings between men who'd both rather be with a woman or
vice-versa--well, can any of us deny they're worth it?"

Yselle stares at Kassima through this recital. "No," she says. "We can't.
As long as she is with me... hard as she is to deal with sometimes, there's
nothing I wouldn't do for her. You know, /she'd/ think all of this were
really silly. She says of course it'll work out, and the malerider would be
delighted it was me. Sometimes I wish things were as simple as she sees them."

All that staring brings a sheepish, self-conscious grin to Kassi's face. "I
feel a bit odd arguing this, y'know. I'm one of those who doesn't *enjoy*
most flights per se, nay in that salacious way some seem to, and I don't
think there's any shame in never coming t'take delight in some of what we
have t'do... but I do think we have t'be accepting it. There's just nay
other way t'live. Anyway. Wouldn't it be wonderful if'n 'twere so? If'n the
world were how Lyss sees it, why, I'd be its rightful lord and master and
anyone who said a bad word about me would get their head bitten off." She
snorts with humor. "I doubt anyone *else* would care for such a world, mind
you. 'Tis possible that things will work out though, one way or another. It
doesn't sound as if'n she intends t'let herself get caught by anyone who'd
repulse you, and if'n she holds t'that, then that's something."

Yselle sighs. "Well I hope so." Levarn starts to stir. "I should get him up
to the nursery, and get back to her, but thank you for talking to me
wingleader," her voice is sincere. "I guess we'll muddle it out somehow. I
guess." She doesn't seem really certain, but she's certainly trying to put
a good face on it. Would you mind..." shyly "I mean if I have any other
questions, would it be okay?"

Kassima nods agreeably, pushing her chair back from the table. "And I
should be getting a bit of sleep in, after I check on Kazy. Drills
later--and some of us will be working on straps in the Work Room, if'n you
want t'be joining us. You're always welcome for talking. I just wish I'd
had something more comforting t'tell you." The last question brings a wide
smile to her face, and she says, "I'd nay mind in the least. 'Twould certes
be okay. Aught I can be answering for you, 'twill be glad t'do."

Yselle nods. "I think I'd like to. I'd better check what we're supposed to
be doing in the barracks, but if it's okay, I'd like to. I always need to
work on my straps." She smiles sheepishly. "Thanks," she says quietly.
"We'll get through it, and I suppose it /is/ easier that she isn't male."
With one final smile, she slips out towards the nursery.

Yselle walks down the short tunnel and out into the bowl.

Kassima is grinning to herself as she gathers up her food plates and takes
them to where dirty dishes belong; she's grinning to herself, too, as she
scoops up one last helping of those by now horribly congealed tubers to let
fall on the back of the supine drunkard's tunic with a satisfying *splat*.
With a cheery whistle, she then exits, stage left.

You walk down the short tunnel and out into the bowl.