--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Show You How It's Done


Date:  March 23, 2008
Place:  Weavercraft Gather Tent
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:  Kassi used to love buying gifts, of course, but she'd
mostly fallen out of the habit in her time back at Benden.  A'deth 
inspires her to find it again, as he inspires so much else.  Including
the nature of his present--Kassima hunts down an Apprentice Weaver to
describe the gift she has in mind, and it's lucky for her she's 
finished when a small throng of Igenites joins her there.  Sort of 
lucky.  Tannusen does draw the *strangest* conclusions about black 
lace....

--------------------------------------------------------------------------


The Log:

You enter the main area of the Weavercraft tent.

Kassima's a woman on a mission. She has that look, as soon as she ducks in
the tent: a person in search of something or someone specific, perhaps a
potential customer, perhaps a sightseer who gave a lift to that Holder boy
out of the goodness of her heart and now he's run off *again*, and he's
more than half drunk, and he's probably going to hit on her when she does
find him.

A cool autumn evening. The breeze outside blows on occasion, not hard
enough to really cause any real problems, but enough to remind all Pernese
that the cold of winter lays just around the corner. This reminder has
caused a flurry of activity at the Weaver tent this gather, at least that's
what the footprints on the ground might indicate. This time of the evening,
however, things have calmed down under the tent of the still well stocked
Weaver tent. This lull in activity is highlighted by the meandering of
several weaver apprentices, straightening up around the tent. Two
Journeymen, one a woman in her late 30's one would guess, and a gentleman
in his mid 40's, are going over a stack of hides. From the sound of their
conversation, records of sales and commissions received through the day. A
tall, thin girl with an apprentice knot almost hanging from her shoulder,
fusses over a basket.

Score a few points for 'potential customer' on the likelihood scale.
Kassima doesn't walk briskly through in search of drunks--meanders only, at
a leisurely pace, headed towards the clothing display but stopping short of
leaving this area. She watches the Journeyman Weavers at their business and
chews her lower lip in thought. Her fingers drum on her mark pouch, making
a distinctive muffled clack. "Mayhaps morning would've been better."

Clack. The sound draws just about anyones attention, wanted or not. A good
thing at the moment only Weavers abound within the tent. Its the older man
who straightens from his stack of hides. The look on his face is quite
neutral and professional until he fully eyes who has entered the peaceful
calm of the tent. "Well, a fair evening to you, rider." His manner shifts
almost immediately to a gentle, friendly tone, which matches the warm
smile. "I am Micephnan." he introduces himself as he moves around the end
of the table serving as a counter. His eyes flick to the side where the
tall, thin girl is comparing two spools of nearly identical colored threads
near a glow basket. "We are honored to have one of Igen's best come all the
way to Boll to see us. What can we Weavers do to assist you?" he stops a
respectful pair of steps away, hands clasped behind his back, attention
full on the rider.

Of course: it's the sound of an overstuffed belt pouch in the wild. Quiet,
subtle, but when you know what to listen for.... "G'deve." Kassima matches
Micephnan's smile with one of her own. "Igen's duties t'Weaver and her
Masters. I'm nay interrupting aught?" A gesture indicates the hides, the
Journeywoman, and she says, "'Twas hoping t'make a commission from your
Craft, but 'tisn't aught so urgent I'd put you out for it." She glances the
way his eyes went, hers momentarily catching on the spools being contrasted.

A warm chuckle issues from the man, quite likely somewhere near his
toenails from its depth and warmth. "No interruption at all. In fact, it
/is/ why we are here." As she explains her purpose he nods to her.
"Certainly a commission can be made. Would not be putting anyone out. As I
said, it is what we are here for." with a broad smile he returns to the
table to retrieve a hide and a quill. "What can the Weavercraft be of
service to you in the creation of, good rider?" he inquires as he returns.
His eyes go once again to the girl who is returning the basket under the
table, a small collection of colored threads on spools set on the table
before her.

"I have something fair specific in mind, but I don't know whether 'tis
feasible. 'Tis meant for a man," Kassima explains, slightly sheepish about
it. "If'n there's something wrong with the idea, I hope 'twill tell me and
we can laugh at m'folly together." One last moment to hesitate; then she
begins to draw her picture with words and gesture. "I'd like a robe for
lounging about in. Something decent you could show in mixed company,
ankle-length; but comfortable--he's about so tall," her hand describes a
height of six feet and change. "Built thin. I'm thinking snug enough in the
chest, but draping sleeves, and loose past the waist. And for material,
black satin. Double-sided. Lined in it, too." The greenrider cocks an
eyebrow. "Is that plausible?"

Micephnan considers the description of the garment as it is issued forth.
His eyes go up to the height being inquired of. His brows furrow as he
listens, his eyes coming unfocused as his mind tries to bring forth an
image of the garment in question. "Black satin, hmm. An interesting choice.
How would you like the closure on this? Button and loop? Buttons with
holes? Perhaps a simple enough belt to make it adjustable discreetly for
fluctuation in weight?" A shadow passes to the side and the tall, thin girl
approaches. Arms full of threadspools, but her eyes on the Journeyman.

Kassima brings up a hand to rub at the back of her neck. "Fluctuation in
weight. I don't know whether he suffers much of that. It should stay
secure, nay falling open every whichaway. Could it have a belt, but
something inside, a tie or button or what have you, t'be making sure it
stays put when he chooses?" An amiable nod for the young Apprentice; a
curious look too, split between girl and man.

The Journeyman turns to the apprentice. "Well, Seski. I assume you heard
what the rider is looking for. What do you think?" the girl blinks, as if
she thought she might not be seen, but she nods. "Its possible. Buttons can
be affixed to the lining on the inside. Around the middle where it should
overlap. The belt could then be more for accessory than necessity, although
it would still serve." The Journeyman nods approval. "Exactly my thought as
well." Without hesitation he hands the hide and quill to the girl. "I'll
leave it in your capable hands." he turns his broad smile back to the
greenrider. "This is Apprentice Sesquina. She works under my direct
supervision at Tillek. I have no question she can create what you are
looking for. If she's any questions, I'll be nearby." his eyes go over the
riders shoulder. A lad enters, not much older than the Apprentice girl. He
nods. "Duties to Igen, good rider. Your leave, as we've another visitor."
he inclines his head and steps past. "Welcome to the Weavers tent! I
thought you might not make it!" This leaves the poor girl standing with the
hide an quill.

"You've worked with satin a'fore?" Kassima wonders curiously of the
Apprentice so introduced. "Mayhaps the belt would function if'n he's too
tired from drills or night shift t'be fussing with buttons. It sounds so? I
wish I had measurements for you, and I'm sorry I don't. 'Tis meant t'be a
surprise." One side of her mouth twitches towards a wry grin. "Can't go up
t'people with measuring tape in the middle of the Cavern and nay have 'em
think you're up t'something. Oh," she belatedly adds, "and I'm Kassima,
green Lysseth's rider. 'Tis a pleasure."

Sesquina gives a nervous grin, followed by a chuckle. "It would spoil a
good surprise. Sesquina is my name. We work with all sorts of materials at
the Crafthall. I haven't done anything quite this, " she pauses for a word
"ambitious, but it sounds like it could be fun. I can at least get you
something approximate. If it needs a little adjustment, um, Gisella, I
think it is at Igen Weyr, can make them." she sets about writing on the
hide with the quill. "Is there anything, special, you need done? Sequins,
tassles for the belt or something for the hemming?"

Kassima shakes her head a little ruefully. "I don't know a Gisella--but
someone in the Caverns will. M'own fault for nay socializing enough,
anyway. Sequins. Tassles?" These ideas hadn't occurred to her, as her
blinking attests. "What an interesting picture... I don't think so, though.
Nay this time. I'm hoping for simplistic elegance, is how I keep thinking
of it, something that's combining luxury and self-indulgence with dignity.
Mayhaps some embroidery? On the belt, or hem mayhaps. Black on black so
'twould be understated."

Sesquina nods. "Easy enough done, can actually be worked into the stitching
of the hem. Do you have something specific in mind? Also, if you change
your mind about adding to it, it can be done later, no problem." As she
speaks, the quill scratches away at the hide, furious note taking, most
likely.

Another headshake, more uncertain than firm. "Hadn't thought about it. He's
a rider, it could be dragons. A Dragonhealer; could be some herb-bearing
vine or plant motif." Kassima gives a wry look, then drops her eyes to the
hide with all its markings. "I'd nay have aught silly--smiling faces or fat
wherries or Faranth knows what, but I'm thinking you could guess that and
'tis nay so helpful."

Sesquina giggles a little. "Its no problem, really. It might take a bit to
get things figured out from what Mic wrote and what I have. There may be
time if you want to take a day or two to think on it. If a message is sent
to us at Tillek I can adjust as necessary. Afraid I don't know any
dragonhealers I could go to for discreet questions." she pauses for a
moment. "Might be a bit beyond my skill, but how about wings? Black thread
stitched wings in the hem?" she shakes her head and scratches at the hide
again with the quill. "You said ankle length and draping sleeves. Did you
want those approximated to the wrist, or to mid forearm?"

"To the wrist," Kassima decides. "Better too long than too short; same with
the hem, better t'risk floor-length than go too high. Good and full at the
cuff, aye? Wings--I like that, 'tis hinting at dragons without *being*
dragons." She smiles for it, and it broadens soon to a pleased grin. "That
does very well. How long d'you think we're talking? I'm guessing some
sevendays."

Sesquina nods. "This kind of project I'd definately need Mic's help with.
Else it'd be a matter of months for me to get the wings right. I know he's
done the wings thing once before. Something about a cloak for someone at
High Reaches. So I know that can be done." she blows up at her bangs.
"Estimation is the word of the day it seems. I'd say no sooner than five
sevendays. At least I've not far to go for black thread. Mic is the best
dyer I've ever seen. I doubt there's a color in all of Pern he couldn't
exactly match."

Kassima repeats in a murmur, "Five sevendays. I hope we're still on terms
that won't make such a gift won't seem bloody odd in that long," more to
herself than the Apprentice, touched with wry humor beside. "'Twill chance
it. All else fails, I'd nay mind keeping such a thing m'self, even if'n
'twould be a bit long on me. Will you send it to Igen?" she wants to know.
"Or should I come t'Tillek? And a'course we've still the most important
question."

Sesquina giggles. "If you mean it as a gift, it might be best if you came
to Tillek when its done. No suspicions that way. People get curious when
others receive packages, especially if they don't regularly already." she
offers the hide. "If its the, as Mic calls it, bottom line you are
wondering about..." indeed, everything is written there. Sleeve length, him
length, design, type of fabric, the belt..and at the bottom in the
Apprentices neat and clear script, is the total figure.

Kassima's grin, too, is on the wry side. "Nay regularly anymore. Fair
enough. But you'll send word when 'tis ready? I've kin posted at the Hall
if'n you want t'tell him, and he can find me. Master Simian." She takes the
hide and studies it, rather than just glancing over. Perhaps two minutes
pass in thoughtful silence. "All's accurate," she says. "Except... a rather
handsome price, isn't it? What about--?" The woman has no quill, but
produces a stick of charcoal from a pocket and scripts something probably
lower than is feasible, though not so low as to be insulting. She passes
the hide back to Sesquina.

Sesquina takes the hide back. She looks at the figure and looks back up
with a bit of a sideways grin. Scribble, scribble, scribble. She offers the
hide back, a third figure on it now, somewhere in between the first to,
likely weighted more towards the original figure. "Master Simian. I'll
write that down to make sure. I'll send word when its done."

"Perhaps--" Scribble, scribble: a fourth figure, close enough to the other
that it may be offered for the sake of argument as much as anything, and
Kassima's grin suggests she's not going to be terribly put out either way.
"Excellent. Truth is, I usually go straight t'him for m'commissions, but
he's family."

Fyra enters the main area of the Weavercraft tent.

Tannusen enters the main area of the Weavercraft tent.

Amaris enters the main area of the Weavercraft tent.

Sesquina giggles, nodding. "Well, its the advantage of having crafters
within the family. Then again..." she takes the hide and scribbles another
figure, squarely between the last two. "...family sometimes can be more of
a liability than an asset when one is trying to be..discreet." she returns
the hide, smiling.

There's a rather irritated looking Igen greenrider that enters the tent,
followed by what most likely is the source of her irritation. Fyra's first,
coming in just behind her mother's sister, Sol. "But Haiurith likes us /so/
much, how can ya leave us behind?" She grins at the tall woman who gives
her a glare before stalking away to find herself a weaver. And some new
leathers, which is what she's muttering. The young blone girl stays back,
turning to look at the display of colors curiously, not sure exactly where
to head first.

"Aye," Kassima agrees, scanning over this new figure. She stands near the
Weaver Apprentice, a hide in her hand--probably dickering over something
given the venue. "I've another cousin in the Craft, in fact, who
specializes in... nay this sort of thing, but closer to. She'd make this
for me and might have discretion, but she'd probably insist on attaching
lace to it. That would be all wrong." The greenrider quirks an eyebrow at
Sesquina, and grins. "I'm trusting you t'have better judgment. If'n 'tis
so, I agree to this price."

Amaris walks in after her guardian Sol and her friend Fyra, scanning the
tent curiously with her brown eyes. At Sol's remark and departure she grins
and pokes Fyra when the rider is out of ear shot. "I think I heard someone
say there were /knives/ in the other tent." The way she puts emphasis on
the weapons makes it perfectly clear where the girl would rather be. From
down her dress front a little brown flit head pokes out, scanning the room
as well before taking flight.

Sesquina nods, a smile crossing her face. Up behind her walks a middle aged
man with dark hair and a Journeyman Weavers knot on his shoulder. He pauses
next to the younger Weaver, but his gaze is on the greenrider before her.
"I do hope she's taking good care of you? Offering a fair price?" he
inquires, his eyes move to the entrance to the tent. More people coming in
causes a slight flurry of activity, Apprentices moving about, making
themselves readily available to assist.

That's when Tannusen slips into the tent, his hands folded neatly behind
his back. "Did I just hear you mention /lace/, Lady Kassima?" Like he can
pass that up!

IGEN-> Tannusen couldn't resist either, of course.

Kassima dips her chin to the Journeyman, offering a smile: "Every price can
be improved on, short of free, but I've nay complaints even so. I'm very
much wanting t'see how it turns out now. With these specifications and the
skill of your Craft, I should be well satisfied." She turns that smile on
Sesquina then, nods to her as well as though to emphasize that she means
it. "--Lace? Me? A'course nay, Tannusen--g'deve, by the by, good t'see you
here! And other Igenites too? Shells, invasion--it must've been a
hallucination on your part."

"There /are/ knives in the other tent," Fyra tells the younger girl with a
roll of her eyes. As her blue eyes catch the small brown firelizard, her
own decides to pop out from the folds of her riding jacket that still hangs
over her. She merely blinks at her surroundings and then sneaks back
inside. "But don't tell that to Sol, or she'll have a reason to buy one an'
stab mum with it, like she's been saying she'd do." She doesn't seem as
interested in pointy objects, but more in the people that are also
occupying the tent. "Igenites," she confirms at hearing it, bobbing her
head. "At least, for now."

Amaris watches as Pan flies around the top of the tent, seemingly curious
at the new surroundings as well. "Sol wouldn't actually /stab/ her though."
She says absently as she moves over to look at the tapestry of Ista. "We
could use a knife of killing tunnel snakes with. I've got a deal with Leren
that I can get more than him." Her eyes briefly move over the stuffed
animals but that's clearly not her mug of tea, she wrinkles her nose at
them and continues to examine the tapestry.

The Journeyman chuckles and moves off to the other greenrider, aiming to
engage her in conversation. Sesquina smiles back at Kassima, nodding. "I'm
looking forward to seeing it myself. And I don't recall you asking for
lace. Although I can always add it if you change your mind." she winks,
nodding to the hide. "If you like you can leave that with me, or you can
take it over to Journeywoman Whinga. She can take care of it from there."
From the Other Goods display, a voice calls out. "We're out of Shoredown!"
The girl turns her head. "Be right there!" she calls, turning back to the
rider. "If you'll excuse me, Micephnan's new thread colors are almost
impossible to keep." she grins and heads off.

"Where lace is concerned," Kassima feels safe in assuring Sesquina, "I
rarely change m'mind. Thankee!" She returns the hide to the Apprentice,
watches her disappear, and mutters under her breath, "'Shoredown'... wonder
what color 'twould be. Green? Sand?" Then, inevitable as the tide: "Someone
mentioned knives?"

Tannusen watches all this with raised eyebrows, as though to say 'I'm not
sure I believe you' without actually vocalizing it. And then he smiles.
"Don't worry, Lady, I'm very trustworthy," then to the strangers, "...for
now?" Knives, he doesn't comment on, not finding sharp things particularly
novel these days. Still, there's probably some unique stuff in that other
tent...


Tannusen:
Slightly taller than average at sixteen turns, Tannusen's build is slender
but athletic, rather than tall and gangly. His platinum blond hair is
typically kept in a single loose braid and comes down to the middle of his
back, making his general appearance seem somewhat bleached out save for his
clothing and his bright blue eyes.
His clothing is functional but very sensible. Layered to keep the sun at
bay, this includes dark blue trousers, a white tunic, a simple leather
belt, and worn boots of the same plain fare.


Fyra goes into a sort of tug of war with her green firelizard to get her
out of the jacket and flying with the brown. But all she gets is a bit
finger which she pops into her mouth, glaring into her jacket. Her sharp
eyes glance back up to Amaris and she rolls them quickly. "Sure she will.
She is pretty mad... But I don't think Hai would let her. She likes mum,
too." And then she moves away from her friend towards the other two older
strangers. "Whatcha gotten so far? There were knives in the other tent from
'ere, with the Smiths."


Fyra:
	Honey-gold hair falls endlessly in curls around this young girl's head,
dropping to a point just between her shoulder-blades. Her face is still
round with baby-fat, yet still proportional to her small physique, shorter
than others her age. Overall she has a healthy paler tan possibly due to
her life out under the Istan sun. Her almond-shaped eyes are a clear sky
blue that can be unnerving when combined with a narrow-eyed glare. Her eyes
are framed by long lashes and her brows are generally well arched on her
face. She looks to be about 11 Turns, 3 months, and 4 days old. 
	Her small frame is covered in a large tunic that is belted close to her
body, with worn trouser pants that have multiple stains from playing
outside. Her feet are covered in short boots, usually untied and muddy.


At Kassima's words Amaris turns to stare at the woman curiously. "I did,
but they're next door right?" She asks as she examines the woman throughly.
Tannusen is noted as well as she moves closer to him. "I've seen you
before? From Igen?" She asks the boy, her brown eyes flittering over to
Kassima every now and then. Pan has taken it now to doing some mid air
acrobatics, the little flit twists and turns in the air, flying flow
sometimes and annoying an elderly woman or two. At Fyra's bit finger she
can't help but laugh, what a great friend.


Amaris:
Loose light blond curls reach all the way down to her mid back in a mess of
tangles. Her sweetly shaped oval face holds two almond shaped dark brown
eyes surrounded by warmer brown thick eye lashes. Her nose starts off
narrow at the top but ends up a bit wide but over all it is not very big or
long. A crooked smile usually plays on her lips, pearly white teeth peeking
out every so often. Her scrawny frame is enveloped in lightly tanned skin,
nicks and scars a common sight on her bare skin except for her face. She is
rather tall for her age. She is 10 Turns, 3 months, and 22 days. 

 A cerulean blue dress hangs rather loosely on her, a testament to the
child's thin frame. It is a complete mess with the evidence of stains that
have faded away with time and frayed hem lines that rest just above her
knees. The sleeves have been rolled up past her elbows by the child and the
the collar has been undone. Her golden brown sandals are mud covered and
scratched up all over giving them an almost unusable appearance.


Kassima gives Tannusen that exact same raised-brow look. Hers however has
amusement behind it. "That's well. 'Twill know who t'blame if'n rumor gets
around Igen I've been buying black lace, as I haven't, by the by, and
Faranth knows what people would assume I wanted it for. There is nay lace
involved!" Insisting on the point: always the best way to get someone to
believe you. Hooking her thumbs in her pockets, the greenrider turns about
to scan again over the tent. "What're you--" she pauses to nod greetings to
the two girls also, and so includes them in the question, "looking t'buy?
Or is it just looking? I've taken care of some business, 'tis all. A
commission I've wanted t'make. Knives should be in the Smiths' tent, aye,
unless they've changed their wares since I last Gather-shopped in ways too
depressing t'think about." Kassi's eyebrows inch upwards again for the
flitting glances; for the moment, though, she doesn't ask.

Tannusen's eyes keep straying to the firelizards. He can't help it, they're
interesting! But he mostly looks at the other humans, since they're who
he's speaking to, of course. Always best to be polite. He nods with a smile
to Amaris, then gives all three of them one of his customary, low, elegant
bows. "My name is Tannusen," he offers, "and I'm just looking," the blond
adds when he straightens back up again, "this time." Cue wide smile at
Kassima.

IGEN-> Tannusen shakes head at IC!Tannusen.

IGEN-> Tannusen says, "He gets way worse when he's older."

Fyra passes a glare over at her friend as she sucks on the bit finger
momentarily and then cleans it off on her jacket, where a muted hiss comes
out of. "Sol's shopping, an' she won't buy me 'nything, either. Says I got
'nough with what's back at Igen." She nods over to the Igen greenrider that
accompanied them, who is now arguing with that Journeyman. She runs her
fingers over some small rug folded over a counted (of her un-bitten hand,
of course), and about to make a comment when the boy bows. She stands a bit
straighter and grins to him, quite convinced that he's had every reason to
bow. "Well met. The name's Fyra." She introduces herself with a look
towards the greenrider as well, whose name she had still yet to learn.

Amaris grows a bit wide eyed at the remarks on lace, staring at Kassima
with some more interest now. Clearly she's too young to understand what is
meant by rumours growing from the lace shopping but she still knows there's
something interesting behind it all. "Just looking unless Sol decides to
buy us something." And she too stares back at the greenrider and then over
at Fyra. "You should teach that thing not to bite you so hard." She says
about her friends flit, catching sight of Tannusen's bow but choosing to
only nod her head in return. "Why would rumours start over lace?" She asks
at the rider, her brown eyes glued to the woman's face.

Kassima has her usual shoulder-riding companions, blue and gold, both adult
and perched in something like dignity. Quixote periodically nibbles her
hair and that can't be called dignified. "Huh," the woman says. "That's
rotten luck. You've nay marks of your own, either? --I'm thinking I should
ask 'at whom' rather than 'at what,' for some reason," she adds to Tannusen
in an undertone. The response to that smile is a disbelieving, entertained
snort. "I'm Kassima, while we're doing introductions. The green creature
that will insist on claiming me is Lysseth. Lace--" How to explain this?
"Someone might think," she says, after some pause for thought, "if'n I
bought lace, that I wanted t'look all frilly and frippery for some reason.
Some person, mayhaps."

Kassima adds as an afterthought, dryly, "Or it being me, they might think
'twas heading towards proddy."

"But that would be telling," Tannusen replies to the under-tone, his
ever-present purr pitched just as quietly. There's never any telling if he
flirts with a goal in mind or not. "Or all of that at once," he adds
helpfully to the explanation, hands still clasped neatly behind his back,
under the braid.

Fyra snorts, glaring at the small bite wound on her finger, already closed
up. She still has small little teeth marks, though, and she just shoves the
hand into her jacket's pocket. "I can't teach her anything. Besides
allowing me to pet her, sometimes. Shards is still a lil' thing, so maybe
she'll stop biting when she's older." Though by the sound of her voice, it
doesn't sound likely. "No marks," she says with a pout. She moves on to
look at some of the other things on disply, though always circling around
the small ground of Igenites. "Mum wouldn't buy lace when she's proddy,"
she looks to the greenrider with a raised brow. "She's generally stocked up
on lots of ale for that."

Amaris glances at the Kassima's own flits a bit untrustingly, her brown
eyes flying to view Pan who by now has begun perching on different display
tables. "I'm Amaris." She adds since everyone giving their names. "Are you
proddy?" And her brown eyes move over towards the tents entrance, seeming
to recall the green dragon. She silently watches as Tannusen speaks to the
rider, noting his odd tone before saying. "Your a bit young for her, aren't
you?" She asks without shame, being able to pick up on the flirting despite
her young age. "She's probably gonna get worse as she grows, give her a
good whackin'." Is offered to Fyra as she herself grabs up the dragon
puppet and starts to look at it.

"Just so long as 'tisn't the lasses. They can't be more than twelve,"
Kassima murmurs to Tannusen sotto voce, without the dangerous note that
would suggest she's truly concerned. "I'd be honor-bound t'bind you up in
that tapestry and throw you into the glassworks, and y'know they'd blame
the fire on *me*." Smiths, so unreasonable. "I think I remember," she says
to Fyra and Amaris. "'Twere at the hatching of Kyana's clutch? And
Impressed there. I wear black when I'm proddy, one sort of thing or
another." She shrugs one shoulder and half-grins. "And drink. 'Tisn't a bad
solution." Amaris specifically, now, she answers with a fervent headshake:
"I certainly am nay! Thank Faranth--or I'd nay be out of Igen. I'm *nay*
buying black lace, that's the whole point."

"Of course you're not buy black lace." Tannusen beams. "Wouldn't you be
buying something with black lace /on/ it, not just the lace itself?" It's
just too easy to harass her with an audience, of course. He ignores all the
other remarks, from Amaris' comment about his age to Kassima's comment
about the age of the others. Honestly! /He's/ not the greenrider here,
why's he getting the rep? ...Oh, right, right. Carry on, then.

"I don't think whacking her will help, 'specially as she's attached to me
right now." Fyra pokes at the small bulge that had shifted up to her
shoulder, which hisses back and causes the young girl to wince. "She's got
sharp teeth an' claws." She frowns as she looks between the two older
people, especially the rider. "Yah, we came with my mum from Ista," she
explains. "An' I don' think she wears 'nything specifically when proddy.
'Least, not 'nymore. It's all 'bout drinking an' hiding, an' telling me to
hang out with the nannies." She sniffs, though she knows exactly why she's
told to go away. "She can always attach the lace to something she already
owns?" She finally joins the lace conversation, tilting her head curiously
to Tannusen.

At the mention of Kyana's clutch Amaris seems to perk up. "Yes, that's
where I got Pan and she," And wry smile is sent over to Fyra. "Got that
thing." And she can't help but crack a smile at the though of Kassima
actually going through with her threat. "You mean like a gown? One of the
riders at Ista would wear a night dress to the living caverns when her
green was proddy. I was was able to cut a hole in the back of it when she
was nearly 'sleep." She tells the story to Tannusen mostly but she passes a
look to Kassima as well, reserving a wide grin for Fyra especially.

"Since I don't do m'own sewing," Kassima grants him. "Probably. Except I'd
nay buy aught with black lace on it, either. So there's plenty left for
you--if'n 'tis why 'twere inquiring?" She beams right back, merry as
anything, but for the girls her curiosity returns. "Why'd you leave Ista?
Your mum's a transfer? Hiding... is beyond all doubt a good idea, would
more of us had her wisdom." Rue there. She ducks her head to hide a grin at
the christening of Fyra's 'lizard as 'that thing,' apt as it seems to be.
"Aye, sometimes a gown. I knew a greenrider at Ista once who wore a gown
too--except his was red--nay a night dress, though, I don't think. Who was
it, and what did she do when she found out?"

"If I had the marks, I'd be tempted just to show you how it's done,"
Tannusen says cheerfully, as though the implication goes right over his
head, which it doesn't. "But my sister would stab /me/ for buying such a
thing." And as for the others' story, he raises an eyebrow, waiting to hear
the rest.

"Shards," Fyra says with a frown over to her friend. "It's not 'that thing'
but Shards." She turns to look over her shoulder at the greenrider that she
came with, now fully engrossed in browsing for some more clothing after
discussing prices with the Weaver. "Mum's back in Ista. She convinced Sol
to take care of us for awhile, 'cause she's busy." That's the only answer
she was going to give. "Mum didn't like to hide 'fore," she says with a
shrug, and then a stern "Fyra!" calls her attention over towards her aunt.
"I think she wants to ask me something." And she grins over at her friend
as well, possibly having heard the story before, and wanders off towards
the other side of the tent.

Fyra leaves the main area of the Weavercraft tent.

Amaris can't help but giggle at the offer of lace to Tannusen. "I don't
think she ever found out it was me. She'd had /a lot/ of wine that night."
She says, putting the dragon puppet back onto its stand. The little brown
flit seems to have gotten bored of his surroundings and sails back to his
pet, landing delicately on her shoulder. "The men were happy though, she
wasn't wearing anything under I heard. Never can remember her name, think
it was 'Uma' or something like that." With a look over to Tannusen she
seems to give the look of resignation. "Boys." And as her friend is called
over she gives a wide grin. "I like 'thing' better." She calls after her,
watching Sol for a moment before turning back to the older Igenites.

"That's evil," Kassima tells Tannusen. "Now I'm curious. Couldn't you at
least describe it?" She's both entertained and sincere in wanting to know;
how could she not? "...Naught under. When you say 'the back,' d'you
mean...? Faranth. I'm making a mental note right now t'be avoiding you when
I'm proddy, just so you know."

Amaris can't help but smile brightly at Kassima. "Just be careful not to
drink yerself to sleep." Says the girl, far too knowledgeable about these
matters it seems. "Nothing at all I heard, and the material was sheer." Off
in the corner Sol's bartering has now turned to near screaming and a glance
is given over to Fyra who beckons Amaris as the two set out without
anything purchased. "See ya back in Igen!" And she runs off to follow the two.

Amaris leaves the main area of the Weavercraft tent.

Tannu watches Fyra for a moment, over there with the stern-seeming older
woman. Hm. He looks again at Kassima with that trademark smile, however.
"That, too, would be telling," he comments, un-lacing his fingers from
behind his back and tapping the bridge of his nose. The blond then beams at
Amaris, and waves goodbye to both of the younger girls.

"Telling, telling," Kassima grouses, amused. "'Tis always ''twould be
telling!' How else is one supposed t'be finding out? Mystery in life," she
flicks her fingers, "is so overrated." Uh-huh.

Tannusen laughs. "I assure you, then, you'll be one of the first to know if
I ever buy black lace."

Kassima considers whether to be mollified. "All right, I can settle for
that... I suppose. That ought t'be a fun message t'receive. What of other
colors? Do I get on the alerting list for blue lace? Purple? Olive green?"

"Those might cost you," the blond teases easily enough. "Black is one
thing, but blue and purple..."

"Cost in what coin?" Kassima arches an eyebrow; hides the grin that's
pulling at her mouth not at all. "I'm nigh too afraid t'be asking. Don't
know what would make blue and purple more pricey than black, anyway."

"Black would go better with my hair," Tannusen says sagely, folding his
hands behind his back again.

Kassima considers him now, hair, eyes, skin tone, all. "Blue suits your
eyes, though," she decides. "'Twouldn't do gold, you might look jaundiced,
but any decent jewel tone?"

Tannusen beams, "I suppose," he agrees, "but black has its own flair." The
blond gestures at his tunic, the only light colored thing he wears, "I only
wear white to annoy my sister."

"The same one who'd stab you if'n you bought black lace?" Kassima inquires.
"Annoying her doesn't sound the soundest policy. Either that or you should
go all the way in ignoring her and buy the stuff." Kassi: lace pusher. Buy
it. C'mon. You know you want to. "Far be it from me t'be objecting t'black,
mind you, when 'tis a favorite."

"It's all degrees," Tannusen says with amusement, "shades of grey, even.
And yes, the same."

"Grey." Kassi drums her fingers against her mark pouch again. "Grey might
do. A dark grey? 'Twould get the color contrast without being stark.
Sometime I'm going t'figure out how I ended up thinking about this, too."

There's definite mischief playing in Tannu's vivid blue eyes. "Oh? But that
would spoil the whole thing, if you figured it out. Much more fun to just
run with it." And he tilts his head slightly to one side, "If you need me
to pretend not to hear you change your order to grey lace... I dare not ask
exactly what you've commissioned, of course."

Kassima rolls her eyes ceilingwards. "Running with things gets me
into--conversations like this one, aye, so mayhaps 'tis its own
explanation. Logic never manages t'keep up." Blink, blink blink. "Err,
'tisn't aught for you. I can say that much. Sorry?"

"I didn't suggest that it was," Tannu smiles his usual smile, "It's just
that you're clearly very good at picking lace, so if you want to change
your order before they even file it... unless, it already has grey lace? It
would make your hair look an even darker black, like a starless night."

"Good. Telling someone you're nay buying them a gift is always so awkward,"
Kassi says wryly, as if it was a likely concern. "I've precious little
experience in picking lace--colors, somewhat--and there's nay lace involved
in the commission. Zero, zip, none. And thankee." She doesn't blush. She's
amused; figuring, perhaps, he'd say as much to anyone.

Tannusen laughs, "I can see how you might take that, but no, I was
suggesting it was something not meant for those like me to know about.
Which, come to think of it, you still haven't denied." He raises his
eyebrows again, "Just what /did/ I walk in on the buying of, I wonder?"

Kassima inclines her head; "Correct--" She admits it? "--So far as it goes.
'Tis a gift for another and meant t'be a surprise, so I'm being secretive
and stealthy. Or trying." Her eyes gleam green. "A'course, if'n you'd
rather imagine up something illicit--just don't tell me what. Mortification
isn't m'chosen demise."

"And what were you supposing I would do with lace?" Tannusen counters,
going so far as to shake a finger, "Mortification indeed, there's no way I
have a dirtier mind than a greenrider." But the tone he uses makes it a
compliment, nonetheless.

Kassima folds her arms and contrives to look miffed. It would work better
if she could clear the laughing glints, as she so rarely manages. "For the
record, greenriders? Nay all profligate, promiscuous, sex-obsessed,
etceteras. Some are fair prudish for Weyrs. Some go multi-Turn stretches
celibate. Assume at your peril!" Pause. "That said, I really don't think
the lace bodysuit look would be you."

"Lace bodysuit?" Tannu laughs, and looks down at himself briefly before
looking at Kassima again, eyebrows firmly raised, "I don't think so, no.
Certainly not unless /comedy/ is the goal, I imagine, and even then."

"You can see," Kassi points out, "why I'd want t'be seeing that if'n 'twere
going t'do it, though; how often d'you get t'marvel at something so...
so... indescribable."

"...That would be one word for it," Tannusen laughs.

Kassima has to ask, "What *did* you have in mind, for showing how black
lace is done? Granting that 'show how 'tis done' and 'black lace bodysuit'
is a pretty difficult stretch in any context. I blame the fact I'm nay
drunk enough for this conversation."

The blond shakes his head, amused. "I would braid it into my hair, and
that's probably all..." and Tannu smiles, "don't tell anyone."

"Oh, well. One of the few halfway decent uses for it." Kassima flashes a
grin. "'Twould nay damage your reputation so--I assume 'tis why you
wouldn't have it known."

"Of course, can't have anyone knowing I would pick one of the halfway
decent uses," Tannusen beams! "Much better that everyone expect a bodysuit.
I'll hint at that next time I have this conversation with someone, just to
see their expression when I eventually braid it in."

Which prompts another inevitable question from Kassima: "D'you plan t'be
having this conversation often?"

"As often as I can!" Tannusen beams at her. He's an... interesting young
man, isn't he?

Kassima asks, laughing and shaking her head, "Can I get a report sometime
on how that goes? Particularly on how many people guess the bodysuit."
Interesting's one word for it; entertaining, it seems, another.

"Certainly," Tannusen grins, "I suspect it will be however many
conversations I have about lace, I seem to have this effect on people." For
no reason at all, of course.

"It might be the purring." Gee, Kassi, you think? "Or the offering t'get
under tables. Or the sniffing. Or the volunteering t'beg, or be begged to.
Or the...." Stop her any time.

Tannu just nods along sagely, hands folded behind his back again. At some
point, he offers, "And that's just from the one time in the living cavern,"
that purr is always there, though, /always/. Is that just how his voice is,
or is it habit? There's no telling.

Kassima says thoughtfully, "You're actually being less overt in a less
public place. The Living Cavern must bring out the worst in you." A concept
which, it seems, amuses her; or at least she grins at it. "Fewer folk about
now t'scandalize, a'course."

"It must be an off day for me," Tannusen purrs his agreement, amused. "I
admit I perform better with an audience, yes. The more scandal, the
better... so long as those I'm scandalizing are near my age or older, of
course."

"Or 'twere put off-game by the lasses," Kassima offers as explanation. She
snickers. "Aye, well, I find that incredibly easy t'be believing. What's
the fun of being outrageous without anyone t'witness? Or at the very least
make turn entertaining colors. But generally you need t'know someone a bit
t'be getting the full raging magenta effect."

Kassima adds, "Although m'methods are usually different from yours, methinks."

"Oh?" Tannusen raises his eyebrows, "Does it involve lace?"

"It has," Kassima reflects. "'Twas the time Aurian and I took a drunken,
flight-lost, passed out brownrider and put him in a pink lace robe that
wouldn't close properly."

The blond considered that for a moment, then laughed.

"In retrospect, awful of us t'do. Methinks he'd insulted us somehow--we
took him t'Auri's weyr, laid him out on her bed, made him think he'd done
something wild and scandalous with strange rider women in lingerie that he
couldn't remember. The funny thing is, I believe he and Auri had a fling
later... funny world." Kassi's caught up in her lace-intensive reminiscence
now. "Other than that? I can't recall lace. Emasculators, now."

Tannusen gets an odd look on his face. It's not horror, and it's not
/entirely/ amusement. It's more like he's found a teacher! "Oh?"

Isn't that a terrifying notion? When Igen made Kassima an Assistant
Weyrlingmaster this probably wasn't the sort of teaching they had in mind.
"I gave M'rgan an Emasculator as his Hatching present, when his Ularrith's
dragonets broke shell. It made perfect sense! For some reason. At the time.
I've been threatening t'castrate him for *Turns*, I've even got a painting
of it." She's way too fond of this series of memories. "Poor Mart... he
made teasing him so much fun. That's how he ended up in the dress, and why
I told people he was having affairs with all those bronzeriders, when
a'course he wasn't, really."

"...You're a dangerous woman," Tannusen compliments, enthralled!

Now there's a compliment to make Kassima grin. "Some used t'be saying so.
Mind that I never actually gelded a man. 'Twas asked to, upon a time, but I
refused--there's teasing and then there's plain wrong. Speaking of which,
don't tell a bronzerider's mother about his torrid affair with a male
brownrider, which he isn't really having, nay matter how drunk you are.
'Tis unkind and I can't blame 'Lex at all for being upset."

"I'll keep that in mind," the blond chuckles, "for future reference. I'll
stick to the lace conversation instead."

Kassima makes a face. "Even if'n 'Lex sort of deserved it for the Lava
Lounge business... I can't recall whether 'twas a'fore or later. I want
t'say later so I should *probably* forgive that as rightful revenge." She
nods wholehearted agreement. "Things get tangled up when you invent mad
passions; better t'let it lie."

"Apparently so," Tannusen smiles, "Lava Lounge?"

"You have t'go there," Kassima says. "You have to, there's nay better place
on Pern for chaotic wrongness--in this case, A'lex insulting m'posterior,
and R'ehn arguing with him at length about its honor, and eventually A'lex
jumped R'ehn even though R'ehn doesn't look 'tall like Mart. I know I threw
sandwiches at him, but what made *R'ehn* deserve that? 'Twill nay even get
into the naked Weyrlings on the bar. I've tried t'block that out of all
recall."

Tannusen just stands and listens, prodding with a question here and there
to elicit another story, or bit of information, for as long as Kassi is
willing to stand around telling it. The blond is practically starry-eyed at
several points, absorbing all /sorts/ of terrible ideas. He's pretty
corrupt for having come from a Hold, but... wow!