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The Dance of the Pants


Date:  February 10, 2000
Places:  Telgar Weyr's Southern Bowl and 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:  I just have one thing to say, and that's that M'rgan's 
player is a *terribly* good sport. ;)  Wonder why?  Read on, and I 
guarantee that you'll understand in no time.

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The Log:

You backwing for a landing.

<*> Lysseth drops in a graceless and bone-rattling fashion to the ground--a
maneuver which elicits a spate of cursing from the rider between her
neckridges and a momentary flash of smug from the green before it's
replaced by her regular programming of irritation. "Boots," Kassi mutters,
sliding down. "Dragonskin boots. Big ones."

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.

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

Pierron humphs thoughtfully as the Wingleader of Thunderbolt arrives.

Arallia pauses in her fruit eating as she says, "I wonder what Karal will
want to be when he grows up. I'd love if he'd go into the weaver craft..."
Her eyes unfocuse as she thinks about that before she glances side-long at
M'rgan, "So what was that list of things to do? That wasn't for the wing
was it?" Nope, she hasn't forgotten.

Ceria starts to nod at M'rgan and then hesitates. "You know," she admits,
"I didn't ask her. She could be interested in beast healing."

I'sai, not so much ignoring his clutchmate as being engrossed in the
delicacies of balance, wanders distractedly back with one decidedly
ungreasified roll topping his plate like a boulder ready to fall. Of
course, when he sits it's next to Ceria if there's a spot vacant, though
it's to Arallia he smiles.

Lysseth> Taralyth, local sun-soaking sprawl, unlids one luminous eye to
look - most of the way: one lid still to go, in case of flung dust, mud, or
whatever else Lysseth might come up with. She may have landed, but it's not
too late.

Dum, dum, dum, dum *da* dum, dum *da* dum.... A peculiar, acrid, vaguely
acidic smell quickly subsumed beneath that of very dead fish wafts into the
room a heartbeat before Kassi appears, carrying... well, a pot of klah and
some very dead fish. Some people have no need for calling cards. Stalking
through the room, she stops to enthrone the klah pot with a solid *thunk*
on the serving table. "Drink up," she instructs the room.

Ceria turns a faint shade of pink as I'sai seats himself next to her and
she spares him a sideways glance before conveniently filling her mouth with
some mashed tubers.

"Or dragonhealing," M'rgan comments as he re-dunks his roll. Not enough of
the liquid gushed out of it when he lifted it out. "Yeah. It was about the
wing. Stuff left over from the Fall." He shrugs once, wipes the roll on the
side of the bowl, and proceeds to consume the greasy bread. The brownrider
has to hunch over the bowl so that the drippings don't fall onto the table
or his clothes.

I'sai whitens, himself, pale eyes immediately searching out their very own
wingleader as the smell carries; he leans over the table to whisper, "Can
you ... -do- something? Please? I hoped we were done with fish for now."

Arallia smiles sunnily at I'sai for a moment before her gaze flickers over
to the proddy greenrider, Kassi. Uh oh. Sniffing slightly at the rather
armoatic smell that wafts its way over to the skyfire table Ara just
mutters, "I'm not drinking whatever that is. You go do it M'rgan."

Lysseth> The Lysseth has landed, commander. And she has most decidedly not
landed in a muddy or dusty spot, no; you see, her hide has been carefully
if begrudgingly oiled and she isn't yet ready to roll around in dirt and
make Kassi do it all over again. Maybe later. However, Taralyth is granted
his very own blood-red glare. She remembers *him*. Claws flex, 
reflectively.

Ceria wrinkles her nose at the sight of the fish and hastily averts her
eyes, looking back down at her plate.

M'rgan shrugs again as the acrid, fish smell wafts his way. At least it
covers up the smell of Ceria's mashed tubers. Yuck. Plunking the remains of
the roll back into the stew, he turns to see what he is being dared to
drink. "That? That's nothing. That's probably just a version of M'kla's
Klah. If you can drink SmithCraft klah or E'dran's, you can drink that.
Well, chew it at least."

Done with fish? Perish the thought, to judge by the number Kassi's dragged
in, tied by their tails to the end of a long knife-tipped stick that could
conceivably be called a spear. All of which have been decapitated as well
as stabbed and are leaking fish-juice on the nice, clean floor. Pierron
must be so thrilled. "Drink the klah," she repeats, thumping the butt of
her spear against the ground for emphasis. "I'm going into the kitchen t'be
slicing these fish, and if'n the pot isn't drained by the time I get
back...." She leaves the words, and implied threat, dangling, with an
especial glare for Mart just on general principle.

I'sai rolls his eyes, "Fine," then matter-of-factly sits back, pinches his
nose, and eats with his free hand. To his fellow ex-baker, nasally, "It's a
shame, really. Did they ever figure out why not smelling something blocks
part of the taste? Poor D'ton."

Arallia leans over to nudge M'rgan and grins, "THen you can go and drink
it, cause i"m /not/. And you heard her she wants it gone before she gets
back."

Lysseth> Taralyth straightens out of his crouch and tidily curls tail about
paws, wings sleeked back and up to counterbalance the arch of his neck.
That's right, keep looking. Only... then nostrils flare, checking for that
fish-smell. Live fish would have been -much- better.

Ceria frowns slightly and responds, "Have they ever really studied it?" She
doesn't look directly at I'sai as she speaks to him.

M'rgan pats the mug of klah in front of him. "I've already got mine.
Besides, what is she going to do about it if we don't drink it? She may
*want* to spear us but she'd never do it." He gives Arallia a bright,
bright, probably foolish grin before turning his attention to I'sai. "I
could bring in some bags of firestone if you want a different smell."

Kassima grants Arallia a thin smile in appreciation for her 'sacrificial
brownrider' ploy. And in answer to Mart? Well, there's only one thing to
do, really. Propping her spear against a convenient wall, she deftly frees
one headless dead fish from the lot and proceeds to whirl about to throw it
at the brownrider at about chest-level. Head-height would be too easy to
duck, don't you know.

"Don't know," I'sai returns between bites. "It might be a healer-thing,"
with all the wariness such a label implies. "Maybe I'll ask next time I see
Ofira, if I don't forget... Hmm?" He even gives it a few more bites' worth
of consideration, quite as if nobody'd ever said anything about the klah:
"It'd be better, but ... nah. Don't trouble your - erk!"

Lysseth> Lysseth drops her lower jaw in a wide, tooth-baring yawn,
affecting a look of supreme boredom. Should she? Is there anything worth
looking at? Wings rustle, irritably, at the sniffing; don't look at her. It
was her rider's idea. Though even Kassi would admit that throwing live fish
at Mart would have been more entertaining.

Lysseth> Carabeth croons over in Lysseth's direction, but doesn't move from
his position.

Ceria nods thoughtfully at that. "You might want to have her check it out,"
she muses absently.

Arallia begins to slowly move /away/ from the other riders, at least by
being green she's somewhat safe. "I thikn I'll...go check ..on..the cheesy
noodles. Aye, the noodles. If you'll excuse me." She flashes a faint smile
before she rises and scurries away from the table.

M'rgan's blue eyes widen at I'sai's 'erk'. "Is there something..." The
brownrider doesn't get to finish the question as his ribs are suddenly
thrust into the table's edge when he's hit in the back by the fish. The
fish splats quite nicely spraying its own particular nasty juices onto his
shirt. "Hey!" Reaching behind him he pulls up his shirt and turns his head
almost all the way around to give it a wary look. "Oooooh. Kena's gonna be
mad at you." And he smirks in Kassi's direction.

Lysseth> Taralyth sniffs a moment more, then abruptly snorts. Riders' whims
he can understand, it seems; but it's a shame. Maybe at least she'll get
another good wash and oiling out of it; come to think of it - such is
dragon-logic - he might, too. After all, some of that fish-smell might very
well have travelled to his own soft hide; he proceeds to give this, too, a
studied inspection.

I'sai sits back on his bench as if about to follow Arallia, forgetting
nose-pinching in favor of a grimace of distaste, one arm shielding his own
food; "M'rgan's taking it remarkably ... well," he whispers.

Ceria jumps as the fish smacks into M'rgan and then nods to I'sai. She
mutters to I'sai, "Um...about the other night..." 

Kassima calmly removes another fish from the bundle and stalks over towards
Mart with it. She really needs some spurs on these boots. This is one of
those scenes that should be accompanied by their ominous jingle. Poking the
headless end of the fish towards his face, she informs him, with faked
brightness, "Kena can go desport herself with wherries for all I care.
Actually, that would probably be an improvement for her." Bracing her free
hand against the table, she leans forward, smiling toothily. "Now, then.
Are you going t'be drinking the klah?" She pauses a moment to turn about
and shake the fish at I'sai in warning. Don't think she's forgotten the
rest of you.

I'sai'd sit back further, only that would take him off the bench, which he
discovers only -just- in time to scrabble to his feet; "...Y-yeah?" Another
pace back, and a snag of hand-cloth, lets him daub fastidiously at the
fish-juice that spots his dark leathers.

Lysseth> Lysseth bridles at this, of course; she bridles at everything. So
her current wash and oil isn't sufficient, is it? Is he suggesting that her
hide is anything less than perfectly groomed? Most unchivalrous of you,
sir, and rewarded with a sharp hiss that's accompanied by fish-breath.
*She* helped herself to a few fresh, it would seem.

M'rgan scoops up his napkin and uses it as a shield in front of his face.
If Pern had turtles he'd be likened to one right now as he got his head
sunk back into his neck as he tries to avoid the fish that's being so
rudely presented to him. "No," he says both insistently and petulantly.
"Now quit it."

Lysseth> Carabeth snakes his head a bit closer to Lysseth to admire her
more closely. He croons again at her, ignoring the fishy scent around her.

Ceria turns red as she speaks with I'sai. She mutters to I'sai, "I'm
really... what... never should have..." 

Lysseth> Taralyth stares a long moment, all arched neck and blue-eyed
perplexity, though he does vent another coughing snort at the rush of air.
Surely not even -Lysseth- would turn down an oiling. Carabeth wouldn't,
would he? An ... -oiling-, after all. Oiling. Remember oilings?

Poke, poke. Awww, Mart, why are you hiding? Mr. Fish just wants to say
hello. And such an aromatic hello it is, too. "I see." Kassima straightens,
considering this spectacle with eye-narrowed displeasure, then abruptly
snaps her fingers. "Someone!" she calls, imperious. "I'sai. Ceria. One of
you, bring me that pot of klah. I want to try an... experiment."

I'sai suggests to his clutchmate in a low voice, "Why don't we get out of
the line of fire? ...And it's, uh, all right. Really it is. ...Only now
it's not, only it's not that, it's -this-. Her. Yeah, get her the klah and
then we can both retreat."

M'rgan allows his napkin to inch down slightly as Mr. Fish is withdrawn.
Though only his eyes can really be seen still, he still manages to convey
complete and smug satisfaction about his victory over Her Proddiness. Male
logic rules the day once again.

Lysseth> Lysseth twitches. Just slightly. But she doesn't actually show off
claws or fangs to remind Carabeth to keep a distance; maybe she's
mellowing? Shyeah. Right. Distributing a garnet-eyed *look* between the two
males, she abruptly lifts her head high, wings curving upwards slightly in
an aloof air. She remembers oilings. She just doesn't *need* one. Her hide
is perfectly shiny and sleek as it is, and let us not forget glowing.

Ceria nods and jumps up. She hastily grabs the klah pot and passes it off
to Kassima with an apologetic glance for M'rgan. Then she waits for I'sai
to lead the way.

It's just coincidence that Kassi's hand happens to slip forward a bit on
the fish to squeeze it, attempting to aim a lovely spray of its juices and
maybe some icky internal bits at Mart and/or his napkin. Really. Totally
coincidental. "Nay, nay, nay retreating until you witness the results of
the experiment. A good experiment *must* have witnesses. Wouldn't you both
agree?" She hefts the klah pot, nods briefly to Ceria in thanks, then asks
Skyfire's Wingleader one more time, "Sure you won't drink?"

Dragon> Lysseth and Taralyth sense that Carabeth admires Lysseth. << Your
hide is very shiny, >> he comments.

Lysseth> Taralyth focuses more closely, made easier by a twist of neck
before he draws back to relative, poised-over-paws safety: fine, he'll
grant - so says his speculative warble - that perhaps she doesn't _require_
one, glossy even in her wings' shown-off pits, ...but surely an oiling is
such a good thing all by itself.

M'rgan winces, only barely managing to lift the napkin in time to keep from
getting a squirt of fish juice right in his eye. There's something to be
said for a rider's quick reflexes. "I don't want any," he tells the Queen
of Evilness as he eyes the klahpot. Though he tries not to look *too*
worried as he watches it closely.

I'sai just doesn't slow down any, not till he's about halfway between inner
caverns' and bowl's exits; indeed, he just waves his free hand vaguely in
Pierron's direction by way of reply, along with a, "We're junior. Not
especially believable, really, when it comes to witnessing."

Lysseth> Taralyth and Carabeth sense that Lysseth acknowledges this with a
flash of red-gold Smug across the glassy, broken sheen of a jagged
smoked-ice mindscape. << Naturally, >> is her lofty reply.

Lysseth> Lysseth is mollified slightly, if only slightly, and relaxes from
proud hauteur back into wary crouch. Yes, well. Perhaps it would be, were
her rider not entirely too brusque about the process right now, slapdashing
oil every which way. Now, perhaps if Taralyth could convince *his* rider to
help out, say...? Yeah. That would probably delight him.

Dragon> Lysseth and Carabeth sense that Taralyth reflects all this in a
dimmer facet, the sort to blur crags and crevasses into relative
smoothness, while the glow's sunset overall. No other comment.

Kassima nods. It's the sort of nod one gives when one has just had one's
suspicions confirmed. It's also the sort of nod that generally precedes
something unfortunate. "Very well, then. Take off your pants." Uh, what?
"But you're better than *Pierron*," she yells back after the
retreating--wise?--bronzerider. "Even you can't disagree with that."

Ceria flees after I'sai, especially after Kassi instructs M'rgan to remove
his pants. "But maybe Pierron will know someone to witness," she suggests
half-heartedly.

Telgar Weyr> Kassima gets a feeling that she's RPing out the Star Wars
Pants game, somehow. "You would be most unwise to lower your pants."

I'sai reddens right on cue, with a mutter about trial and, more
importantly, error: he recovers enough composure to call, fibbing in quite
the sincere tone of voice, "'Sides, we've," we? hi, Ceria, "every
confidence our wingleader can take care of you. ...He prides himself on it,
after all."

M'rgan's eyes jerk down towards his trousers once and then right back up.
"What?!?" bursts out of him in a tone that completely rejects Kassima's
idea. And to reinforce it he frees one hand from that protective napkin to
grab at his belt. His pants aren't going anywhere.

Ceria blinks at I'sai. We? Then she shrugs and nods enthusiastic 
agreement.  "Of course he can," she mumbles. She winces slightly at 
M'rgan's outburst.

The way Kassi's attention rivets to the bronzerider, not to mention that
flash of infuriated green and the tightening of her jaw, may perhaps serve
to suggest that this wasn't the brightest thing to say. "Take *care* of
me." Mr. Fish is retrieved, and she actually steps away from Mart enough to
turn and begin waggling the deceased ichthyoid at I'sai in what's either a
threatening or surreal fashion. "Are you *implying* that I'm nay more than
a match for this... this...." The fish is waved at Mart now as words fail
her. "Mayhaps I should be pouring this klah down *your* pants instead, for
an insult like that. Look, Mart, you wouldn't drink, so now I'm going t'see
whether I can use this stuff t'demasculinize you. So you need t'take your
pants off. What part of that isn't clear?"

I'sai spots the gesture and - since it _could_ be unclasping, after all -
averts his eyes right quick; he mutters back to Ceria, "Tell me he's not
going for it," right before Kassima gets into her song and dance routine;
whereupon he steps back and adds, ostensibly to the brownrider, "That's the
biggest - tail - I've ever seen. Still, if it satisfies her..."

M'rgan squirms out of his chair as Kassima is momentarily diverted by
I'sai. He makes a mental note to give the bronzerider an extra day off and
he gives the lad a grateful smile while Kassima's back is turned. When
she's looking at him again he clutches his trousers tightly again, making
sure they stay firmly around his hips. "Look, I'm not taking my pants off.
It's not like we're in bed or anything." He edges one foot out an inch,
towards the bowl.

Lysseth> Taralyth might could; thing is, he leans confidentially to note,
said rider has an odd concern for maintaining bodily integrity. Imagine 
that.

Confusion sets in on Kassi's face, and she scans her surroundings for any
signs of tails, big or otherwise. "Where?" she finally gives up and asks,
exasperated. And just then is naturally when Mart's comment registers, and
with a shriek of outrage, she spins to attempt to whap him upside the head
with this poor, battered fish. 'Course, the problem with trying to
fish-smack people while infuriated is that your chances of missing are
greater. "Die! Die! Die!"

Tanata walks here from the Inner Cavern.

Ceria backs away from I'sai a bit when Kassima's attention focuses on him.
She glances back and forth between M'rgan, I'sai and the proddy greenrider,
not quite sure how to react anymore.

Lysseth> Lysseth cannot, simply cannot radiate innocence very well at this
point, but she does do her level best. Would she do that? She spends a
moment preening one of her forepaws, ensuring that the talons are nicely
clean as well as sharp. Now, why on Pern would anyone ever think such a
thing of her?

I'sai's huddled with Ceria roughly equidistant between caverns and bowl,
while Kassima goes after M'rgan with a headless fish; he murmurs quite
quietly, "As long as they take care of each other..." before hissing to
Tanata, "Save us! Get the fish."

Still clutching his pants tightly and letting that napkin fall, M'rgan
scrambles away from Kassima as best and as fast as he can. He ducks, he
weaves, he raises his free hand protectively. He runs into tables. He runs
into chairs. He really just runs. A few blows do connect, covering him even
more in squishy fish stuff.

Tanata slips into the room tucking a piece of stray hair behind her ear.
She glances around the room nodding to a few people before heading toward
the serving. She circles widely around M'rgan so she doesn't get run over
and raises and eyebrow before completely ignoring everything but the
serving table.

I'sai whines under his breath, "She didn't fall for it, Ceria. ...But a
boot-polishing says he'll make it out before she -knocks- him out."

Lysseth> Carabeth settles for watching Lysseth and Taralyth for now, making
no more advances on his part.

Kassima howls a greenrider battle cry and takes off after the brownrider,
cloak flaring, hair flying as she leaps over furniture and dodges very
distressed-looking servitors in her need to pummel Mart within an inch of
his life. With a fish. A very dead fish. Which is rapidly starting to
become a very *mutilated* very dead fish. Are we having fun yet?

Ceria gives I'sai a pleading look. "What're you gonna do if she comes over
here?" she asks him. She keeps a wary eye on the fleeing M'rgan and the
pursuing greenrider.

M'rgan continues his run for the bowl, not even his stumbling slowing him
down. Perhaps it's that greenrider battle cry that spurs him on. At the
exit though he stops, spins around, hikes his pants up, and points behind
Kassima. "Wait! Someone is stealing your klah!" Could this be a
distraction? Nah.

I'sai, watching with horrified fascination nowhere near that klah, even so
adds a hopeful, "Go somewhere else. Even the Northern Wastes sound much
better right around now. Especially if she doesn't change before anything,
uh, happens. Which it might. Happen. ...Maybe to Benden. Or Boll. Or
somewhere else with a, 'B.'"

Tanata turns around slowly from the serving table to stare at M'rgan and
Kassima with a slightly open mouth. When she realizes she's staring she
stuffs a meatroll in her mouth and bows her head a little so she can
examine her heaping plate of food while still watching M'rgan and Kassima
out of the corner of her eyes.

Lysseth> Imagine. Meanwhile, Taralyth just feigns great interest in one of
those ledges up there, though not without keeping a few facets' worth on
Lysseth there. Surely not Cymrith's ledge. Nor Tierth's. No, of course not:
it's just the sunshine.

Ceria nods slowly to I'sai. "Well, do you think it would be a good idea to
get a head start?" she suggests nervously.

It's a shame Kassi's too busy screeching and chasing to overhear this
conversation; she'd probably enjoy it. As-is, however, her yells turn into
yelps as she frantically tries to come to a complete and total stop. And
fails. Maybe she runs smack into the brownrider; maybe he manages to dodge
and she runs into the wall instead, but whichever it is, it's probably very
undignified, a fact which is bound to thrill her when the snickering 
begins.

Telgar Weyr> Leya waves. :)

Telgar Weyr> I'sai says, "Why, hello, Leya. Entertainment in the main
cavern -just- for you. ;)"

Telgar Weyr> Leya giggles. "I'll be right down."

"It definitely would," I'sai agrees, only he's still staring. At the mad
pair, and Tanata's own for-now escape. Very much under his breath, "So
you're doing better?"

Lysseth> Lysseth doesn't have to feign interest in claws' curvature; she
has plenty, all of a sudden, and a flick of her tail knocks a mid-sized
rock within range for her to grip and use for that sacred green ritual of
talon sharpening. Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. Aural punishment for reminding her
of the existance of other greens, perhaps? And poor Carabeth, caught in the
crossfire.

M'rgan's eyes widen and widen and widen as his doom continues towards him.
Sort of a brownrider version of the deer in the headlights look. With a
gasp he tries to dodge but it's hard to get moving from a standing start.
So in the end he ends up on his back, staring up at the ceiling with a
quizzical expression as if trying to figure out how he got into this 
position.

Lysseth> Tovith backwings for a landing.

Lysseth> Leya slides down off of Tovith, her feet landing on the ground
with a soft *thump*.

Leya walks in from the bowl.

Lysseth> Carabeth starts to let out a bugle of protest, but he quickly cuts
himself off, thinking better of it. He curls himself into a ball instead
and eyes Lysseth pitifully.

Lysseth> Taralyth immediately darts his head under his wing, hiding his
headknobs for all that twin bright-whirling eyes peer out from that cloak,
and gives way to a decidedly atonal - noise - of complaint: the sort to
clash even with the cut-off bugle, much less the screeching itself. Battle
of the bands?

Ceria gasps as M'rgan and Kassi go down in an undignified heap. "Uh-oh,"
she mutters before responding to I'sai. "Yeah. I don't know why that always
seems to happen."

Telgar Weyr> M'rgan pouts. The living cavern is filled with brownriders and
bronzeriders and Kassi /still/ picks on me. ;)

Telgar Weyr> I'sai soothes, "She -likes- you."

At first Leya smiles and waves as she walks in, but then she sees Kassima.
Her smile freezes on her face and she slowly begins edge away.

Oof. And Kassi, of course, is left sprawled half-over the brownrider in the
entranceway--just walk over them, Leya--knocked breathless and somewhat
dazed. Spitting out a strand of black hair, she informs Mart grumpily,
"This is all *your* fault." It always is.

Telgar Weyr> Ceria grins. I'm hiding behind I'sai. ;)

Telgar Weyr> Leya says, "Can I hide behind you?"

Telgar Weyr> M'rgan hides behind Leya?

Or step on them. Standing with Ceria between bowl and caverns, plate in one
hand, I'sai beckons Leya over with the other.

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "Your fault for not taking off your pants, Mart.
;)"

Tanata stops trying to hide the fact that she is staring at Kassima and
M'rgan. She slowly sets down her plate on the nearest table without looking
to make sure it goes fully on the table. She manages to get it halfway on
the table at the dangerous point that if it or the table got nudged it
would go crashing to the floor.

"Great," M'rgan eventually says with a groan as he gets his wind back.
"You've killed me." He lifts his head just enough to look at Kassi, his
neck wrinkling with the effort. "I hope you're happy," he tells her in a
disgusted tone before he gently lays his head back down. Now if someone
could just stop the room from spinning.

Lysseth> Lysseth is a sadistic creature, though, right now--complaint is
more apt to convince her to continue, and does. Claws shriek protest
against sharpening-stone, and the rock screams against the furrows left in
it, providing a delightfully dissonant counterpoint. This isn't bad enough,
either. No, Lysseth has to add her own two marks' worth by producing the
most unfortunate high-pitched sound ever to come from a green throat. This
is only a test of the Emer-green-cy Broadcasting System.

Leya stares down at the heap of greenrider and brownrider, she glances up
to see I'sai's gesture. She carefully steps over the steps over their feet
and walks over. "I see our wingleaders are getting along nicely," she
whispers sardonicly to I'sai, then nods to Ceria.

That does seem to please Kassi, to judge by the heartless snicker. "About
time," she mutters, pushing herself up enough to be able to glare down at
him. "If'n you'd just taken off your pants when I asked you to, this
wouldn't have happened." Isn't this a lovely conversation to walk in on?

Lysseth> Tovith just stares at Lysseth for a few moments, that seems like
an enternity. He then scrables as fast as he can to the far side of the
bowl until he is as far as he can get from the proddy green without
burrowing in the rock, which he might consider if it gets much worse.

"As usual," I'sai murmurs back, hunching his shoulders up at a certain
high-pitched howling from the bowl; while he hasn't yet added to what
Ceria'd earlier said, now and again he's still glancing her way. "...The
good thing is that since she's already breeding, they can't."

M'rgan groans several times as he flexes his arms and legs a little to test
them. Despite the aching, nothing appears to be broken. "And /I/ said that
since we're not in bed I wouldn't. Sheesh. The living cavern isn't a place
for bonking." Only for running and falling, it seems. Hiking himself up on
his elbows, he tries to slither out from under Kassima.

Ceria blinks at I'sai's comment. "I suppose that's true," she says. She
looks to Leya. "Welcome to the madness," she mutters to her.

I'sai mutters something vague, though, and scurries off with his plate.

I'sai walks towards the inner cavern.

Leya blinks over at Kassima, then at I'sai. Ahhh, the comments can help
explain each other. She smiles wanely at Ceria, "I've kinda gotten used to
it here lately."

Lysseth> Taralyth indulges in a little ululation of his own - why be
off-key when you can be off-key*s*? - and then abruptly leaps up and 
lakeward.

For a moment, it seems like Kassi might just have an apoplexy from sheer
rage, but the horrible sounds from outside manage--blessedly--to distract
her. "As if'n anywhere would be, when 'tis you we're speaking of," she
spits, rolling off and getting to her feet with a black scowl and much
dusting off of clothing. "I should've dumped the klah down your pants
without asking first."

Lysseth> Carabeth begins to croon quietly to himself, avoiding Lysseth's
gaze and hopefully her wrath.

Ceria nods to Leya. "I just hope I can avoid adding to it this time," she
says.

Lysseth> Lysseth slowly lets the note fade as Taralyth departs--he was,
after all, the one she was trying to punish--and all that's left is the
slightly less horrid sound of talons on rock. Scrape. Scree.

Leya nods back to Ceria, pulling out a chair and sitting down, "Good idea."
Kassi's klah comment brings her head over to them again, "Uh oh..."

M'rgan awkwardly scrambles out from underneath Kassima, his hands going to
his back as he hunches over dramatically. Never let it be said that he
won't milk things for all that they are worth. "You should've dumped klah
down somebody *else's* pants," he snaps back as he hobbles towards the bowl
and it's relative safety. "Groan."

Lysseth> Carabeth continues his crooning just to be on the safe side. He
leans away from Lysseth as well.

Lysseth> Tovith hunches over, pressing himself against the wall with his
head underneath his wing in a vain attempt to block out the awful scraping
sounds.

"Nay anyone else deserved it!" Kassi snarls after the retreating
brownrider. Reaching up to straighten her rather crooked circlet, she spins
to walk back into the Cavern proper without a backwards glance. That whole
incident was too embarrassing to have actually happened. "So," she begins
again, trying a smile that mostly only succeeds in showing grit teeth. "Who
was going t'be drinking the klah today?"

Ceria leans slightly against a chair, but doesn't seat herself in it. She
avoids Kassima's eyes as she asks the question.

M'rgan walks down the short tunnel and out into the bowl.

Leya's face pales and her eyes widen as M'rgan leaves and Kassi's attention
is freed to wander elsewhere. "Oh, well, I already had some, Kassi so I'll
just pass," she says doing her very best to keep her tone casual and not
squeek.

Kassima frowns, but she can't deny the truth of Leya's statement.
Therefore... her eyes wander towards Ceria and Tanata. Uh-oh. "Well? 'Tis
M'kla's," she adds, in what she probably thinks is persuasion. Persuasion
*against* trying it, maybe.

Bradamante walks in from the kitchen.

Ceria blinks at Kassima as she's forced to focus her eyes on the
greenrider. "Um...M'kla's?" she echoes. "I've had M'kla's klah before."

Tanata just stares at Kassima without saying anything. Slowly she starts to
sit down at the table which her plate is set on the edge. Without taking
her eyes off Kassi she pulls the plate closer towards her then fixing her
eyes on her food, she digs in."

Leya sighs in relief as Kassi looks away from her. She safe, at least for
now. She stares at the table, then reaches over to tap Ceria as she
remebers what the klah did to another table not that long ago. "Ceria? I
would scream and run away if I were you. That klah is very, very evil," she
whispers hopefully for her ears only.

Bradamante strides in, oblivious or maybe numb to the undercurrents a
proddy rider can create. Turns of riding a blue can do that. Dropping
riding gear into a seat she fingerscrubs her helmet hair to order as she
smiles and greets "Hi everyone"

Kassima beams, the unaccustomably pleased expression erasing the last of
the humiliated/furious flush from her face. "And now you can again!" she
cries in triumph. "I've perfected the recipe! See?" The pot is picked up
again and waved around, to distribute its acrid scent freely through the
room. "*Everyone* should try it." Meaningful look towards Tanata, there.
"Bradamante. *You'll* drink this klah, won't you?"

"Nice cloak" The clueless bluerider compliments Kassima. Kassima is in
black, Mante should be very very afraid. But the full remifications haven't
sunk in yet so she chirps "Does it have salt in it?"

Ceria glances over at Leya rather desperately. She protests weakly to
Kassima, "But I'm not thirsty?"

Telgar Weyr> Bradamante says, "Has Lysseth rose since I transfered in?"

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "ICly, probably. On-camera, I don't *think* so.
Her last flight was last April."

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "But Kassi would've been holed up in her weyr
rather than wreaking havoc for those off-camera proddy spates. ;)"

Tanata looks up slowly just in time to catch Kassi's look. She eeps and
tried to make a pile of food on her plate to hide behind. Not being able to
make a high enough pile she starts shoveling the food into her mouth
keeping her eyes glued on the plate infront of her and her face practacly
in the food.

"Thankee." Kassi preens. Yes, *preens*. "I'm fond of it. I can't give away
the Klah's ingrediants, are you crazy? There can only be one living person
at a time who knows 'em." She gazes towards Ceria with distinct
disappointment. "Well, if'n you're nay thirsty, mayhaps you'd like fish
instead? They're fresh." Relatively. She shakes the battered one she's
still carrying for emphasis. "Leya, I have a Wing assignment for you. I
want you t'be getting people t'be drinking the Klah."

Telgar Weyr> A'lex says, "How come you're nice OFF camera, huh?"

Telgar Weyr> Kassima wasn't *nice*, she just wasn't in public. She probably
stayed home and tortured small animals or something. ;)

Leya returns Ceria glance with one of her own. She makes a valiant effort
as making herself invisible. Shrinking down into her chair and her eyes on
the table. If necessary she could disapear under the table in a moments.
Now might be good time. She peeks over the edge of table, "But, but
/Kena's/ the acting wingleader right now..."

From Bradamante's shoulder, Zoe perks up at the sight of a shaken fish and
starts creeling at the top of her tiny but formidable lungs. It is like a
siren, rising and falling in pitch but not intensity.

Telgar Weyr> Leya says, "The poor animals..."

Ceria shakes her head at Kassima. "I just ate," she says. Then in an
attempt to prevent more pressure, she offers, "But perhaps you'd like me to
cook...er...prepare them for you?"

"But I," Kassi informs, pleasantly, "am still *the* Wingleader." There can
only be one? "You're still under m'authority when we're on the ground. As
we are now, last I checked. If'n you do it, I promise nay t'be trying to
convince you t'drink it anymore--" A pause, here, while she turns to hurl
the fish--which, fortunately, isn't too heavy or big after the beating it's
undergone--towards the 'lizard. And since Zoe's on 'Mante's shoulder,
towards the poor bluerider, too. "Shut *up*!" Then, to Ceria: "D'you know a
way t'be preparing 'em so that they're raw but I wouldn't have t'be
worrying about worms?"

Bradamante gets fish smack across her face. As the tiny green firelizard
abruptly stops at an annoyingly high pitch, leaving a blessedly ringing
silence and pounces the treat, the rider spits out fin and coughs.

Ceria ponders that for a moment. "Perhaps if I soaked them in wine or
something like that?" she suggests, glad that the greenrider isn't trying
to get her to drink the klah anymore.

Leya raises up a little in her chair, "Oh, all right." She starts as the
fish is flung toward the poor 'lizard and bluerider. She jumps out of her
chair and practically runs toward the bowl, "I'll go do that right now
then, Kassi." She glances apologetically to Ceria as hurries away.

Kassima gives an impatient growl. "I can't be *having* wine," she reminds.
"The Healers insist 'tis a bad thing. Err... sorry about that, 'Mante."
This apology would likely seem more sincere if she didn't have to clap a
hand to her mouth to stifle laughter.

Bradamante makes disgusted choaking gagging sounds and paws at her tounge
"Augh, fish" She tries to shimmy the 'lizard off her shoulders by hopping
sideways with that shoulder down as at the same time she grabs a mug and
holds it out to be filled.

The fish being thrown just makes Tanata bury her face a little more in her
food attempting to hide. She shovels huge forkfuls of food into her mouth
and munches on meatroll inbetween and still manages to keep her nose almost
into her food.

Kassima decides that now would be a good time to drop into her seat at her
Wing's table and hunch up her shoulders, the better not to give away her
snickering. It doesn't do for proddy riders to snicker; ruins the whole
doom-and-gloom appearance, don't you know.

After a moment of this, however, Kassi springs to her feet again, evidently
struck by a thought. "Shells--I forgot the *tunnelsnakes*," she curses, and
pelts pell-mell for the Inner Caverns. It's probably better not to ask why.

You walk towards the inner cavern.