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A Tapping of Subtleties


Date:  February 16, 2003
Place:  Telgar Weyr's 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:  Though all of her attempts to be subtle about it prove
futile, Kassima at last manages to snag A'ran, brown Orvieth's, for
Thunderbolt, her last new Wingrider from this clutch.  It may be 
rather interesting to hear Yash's Decarath will have to say about his 
latest new Wingmate when they learn the news, given the givens.

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The Log:

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

A'ran sits around a small table by a hearth, a mug of klah enclosed in one
hand with the other poking a bit of cold meat with his small knife.

"I hate morning, and everything about it, from the cold air to the sunlight
through the treeeeeees...." Kassi's injected a note of good-natured
sardonicism into her singing voice, which is remarkably cheery for the
sentiment it's expressing. Without missing a beat, she gives Pierron the
requisite dirty look and amiable rude gesture en route to the table where
the all-important food is kept. "I hate mornings, there is nay doubt about
it; don't ask me about morning, pleeeeease--oh, *fine*, Pierron, you can
stop giving me that look. I'll be quiet. Sheesh, and when did you become
some sort of great music critic I want t'know?" She espies A'ran while
turning back towards the aforementioned table, and affords an amiable
waggle of fingers in greeting before reaching for a pitcher of juice.

A'ran's head turns to Kassima, raising an eyebrow. He puts his klah down
and stands, after a moment's hesitation he salutes the wingleader, "Ma'am,"
he says. He glances at Pierron and grins to the man, then turns to sit back
down, picking up his mug again.

Kassima closes her eyes a brief moment as though in pain. "Isn't there
still a rule in effect about that?" she asks plaintively, opening them
again. "The whole nay ma'aming persons whose titles you know thing? For
that matter, d'you have t'salute anymore? I'd just as soon you didn't. Just
got a craw full of *that* particular bother in drills." Well, that would
explain the firestone dust on her clothing, anyway. Curving a rueful grin,
she adds, "Which, for the record, I *still* think are at an insane hour of
morning. Nay that I've anyone else t'blame for it. But far be it from me
t'let that keep me from kvetching. You set for food, or is there aught I
can get for you while I'm over here anyway?"

A'ran pauses for a moment, "Sorry, wingleader." he says. "And, yeh - we
still have to salute anyone until we've been tapped into a wing." He
glances down at his slab of meat, "I'm fine, thanks." he adds. Glancing
around, "Why don't you just change the drill times? You're the wingleader,
so what's stopping you?"

"Oh, I do, some of the time." Kassi pours herself a mug of the juice, and
spends a moment considering the rest of what's laid out before putting
together a meal of blueberry porridge and frosted sweetrolls. How amazingly
healthy. "I vary 'em; some at first light, some mid-morning, some
afternoon, and one at night every month or two. M'thought is that 'tis
counterproductive t'train riders t'be ready to fight only at dawn. The
downside is that having the dawn drills be less constant makes 'em seem all
the more horrid when we do have 'em--well, at least t'me; I'm a nocturnal
creature. Bother. Remind me t'talk t'Yash about that rule, would you? Well,
or nay... it makes sense, I suppose, but I loathe being saluted. A'course,
'tisn't as if'n I'll likely have t'worry about it much longer, hey?"

A'ran nods slowly, sipping klah from his mug. "That makes sense," he says,
then another pause. "I wonder how long it'll be before Ursa comes back from
Southern... she's been there quite a while now, hasn't she." He grins, "And
Yashira wouldn't do anything - I think she enjoys having us weyrling jump
up and salute whenever a full rider comes in."

Kassima admits as she settles herself and her food at her place at the head
of Thunderbolt's table, "I'd been wondering that m'self--depends how badly
Spineth was injured, I suppose. Bloody Star knows some injuries can take
Turns t'heal fully, but 'tisn't as if'n this is Threadscore, so I'd nay
*think*... well, 'twill be seeing. At least she has Emlyn for company.
Pshhh," is her response to the last, accompanied by a good-natured snort.
"Yash isn't a *sadist*." Pause. "Well. Nay a true one. I can't *swear* you
mightn't be right, mind... or mayhaps she enjoys tormenting you especially?
That's always possible." Maybe *Kassi's* the sadist. "Have you nay been
enjoying training under her?"

A'ran grins and shrugs, "Do people -ever- enjoy weyrling training?" he
asks, "I thought the whole point of it was to crush our spirits and make us
minions for the 'evil weyrlingmaster'." He grins again, "I'm pretty sure
Decarath doesn't like Orvieth, Orvi's always trying to find ways to put
himself as Decarath's equal."

"Do I score insanity points for admitting I did? At least somewhat?
A'course, 'twas fourteen, and you're allowed t'be somewhat insane at
fourteen." Kassi adopts a mock-sagacious tone for this proclamation.
"Everyone knows *that*. Shells, though, the point's nay t'make you minions
of the *Weyrlingmaster*. 'Tis t'make you minions of your eventual
*Wingleader*. And, ideally, greenriders, since you're a malerider, but I
suppose now that the Weyrlingmaster's a malerider she might have skipped
that bit--such a pity. Have nay fear, though. You'll still learn in time."
She slants him an amused and slightly wicked grin before pausing for a bite
of porridge. "Decarath doesn't like *anyone*," she observes post-swallow.
"Or so I'd expect. Save mayhaps a female while he's chasing her, and even
then I don't know if'n like's quite the word. Is it just Decarath Orvieth
does that with? He doesn't have that problem with all the dragons he's
flying under? 'Twould be unfortunate, if'n he did."

A'ran grins and nods, "Yep," he says, "If you enjoyed weyrling training,
you must be insane - though it was probably different in Benden..." He sips
his klah again, "Yeh, I guess you're right." he adds, "Us male riders are
just to please all the female riders, huh?" He smirks, "And I dun't know.
No one else has said anything to me, but then I've not really said much to
anyone, so."

Kassima crinkles her nose over her juice glass. "Nay so very different.
Much of the training techniques, we brought over with us; couldn't adopt
*Telgar's* or we'd be teaching you that only bronzeriders are fit t'lead
and chromatics aren't worth the spit they use t'shine their boots."
Derisive of that? Her? Oh, maybe just a tad. "Depends on your definition of
'please,' but that's about right. Since tormenting you lot certes pleases
*me* and that's what I'd say you exist for," though she winks after that,
to assure she's facetious. "Hmm. Said much t'anyone? What're you meaning?
About Orvieth's authority thing?"

A'ran nods, "Yeh, that." He says, "Orvieth thinks it's just between him and
Decarath, so he won't say much to me and won't let me say too much to
anyone else." He grins. "Is that what Telgar thought?" he asks, "Great way
for chromatics to have confidence, then, telling us we're worse than
nothing." he says sarcastically.

"Essentially, aye. 'Tis much of why G'mort and Benna were deposed. They
didn't make good use of resources--and were getting half their riders
killed in the bargain, wouldn't you know." Kassima's voice is,
unsurprisingly, disapproving. "There were still problems for a time with
some of the old riders who were here a'fore the transfer keeping up that
mindset, but now... if'n any linger, they're where they can do little
enough harm, I would wager. Ah, just between him and Decarath. That's good
t'know." She raises her spoon, blows on the porridge it contains to cool
it. "Since Lysseth doesn't take kindly t'her Wingdragons trying t'challenge
*her* authority. That's nay precisely a spectacle I'd pay t'be witnessing,
if'n you get what I mean."

A'ran listens and sips his klah again, "Yeh, I'd heard Lysseth's not one to
argue with," he says, grinning, taking a bite out of his meat. "I think
it's a brown-brown thing, he never did it to Taralyth or Semeth, or Spineth
actually - so maybe he just doesn't like Decarath."

Something about this response amuses Kassi, though it's hard to tell from
her expression just what. "Tell me what else you've heard about Lysseth,
for entertainment's sake? As t'Decarath, so long as he *can* fly with him
in Threadfall without the rivalry getting in the way, 'tis what matters.
Though y'never know but that you might end up under Decarath again someday,
so you might still try t'talk him out of it... as if'n dragons listen to
us, but. T'be fair t'Orvieth, Semeth and Spineth are both more... ah...
amiable? Shall we say, than Decarath--and Taralyth, well. Lyss would thwap
me with her wing if'n I said aught ill of him. Or mayhaps she wouldn't just
now, but I'll still err on the side of caution in case."

A'ran pauses, "Not much, just that she's not too...friendly." he says,
ready to lean back incase the wingleader takes offence. "Orvieth's never
had any trouble with Taralyth, though maybe he's just thankful because it
was him who searched me." A'ran shrugs, "I still don't understand how
Orvi's mind works, and he's nearly two and half."

Rather than offended, Kassi seems, if anything, entertained. She allows,
"Some would say nay. She isn't *unfriendly* as such, when she's normal and
nay Thread's falling; but she's nay one of the more cuddly
sweetness-and-light dragons in existence, I have t'grant that. You don't
think Orvieth would have a problem working under a dragon of such
temperament, d'you? I don't know whether dragons recognize their rider's
Searchdragon or nay," she adds after a moment, peeling a section of crust
from her toast. "Decarath's never seemed particularly inclined towards Lyss
because of it. Though he has chased her a pair of times. As t'*that*, for
what 'tis worth, I don't always understand Lysseth's either--and I don't
want t'think about how old *she* is."

A'ran shrugs, "I don't think Orvieth would have a problem with it, no," he
says, "He's quite, err, 'interested' in greens so I doubt he'd have a
problem with any who were leading him." He sips his klah again. "Though he
still hasn't got up the nerve to chase any that rise," he grins, "He seems
to be waiting for one he knows well to go up so he won't be embarassed too
much if he looses."

Kassima spares a moment for a glance outside, her eyes taking on the
half-focused look of a rider conversing with her dragon. "'Tisn't *that*
bloody amusing," she calls in the direction of the Bowl, though the
amusement in her own voice undercuts the protest. "And nay like you'd be
doing any better!" With a headshake, she turns back and tugs something out
of one of her pockets. "That green's having a bloody laughing fit. This
isn't m'day for successful subtlety, 'twould seem, so I'll be more direct
for a change. Want this?" She holds up the object: a Wing patch, with
Thunderbolt's characteristic purple, black, and bronze insignia. "Waiting
for--ach, shells, poor lad! But I suppose I might be embarrassed too, if'n
'twere me. Huh. I never really thought about that, that the first loss
might be a twinge on the humiliating side for a dragon."

A'ran grins slightly and nods, "Sure," he says. Sipping his klah, draining
the ramains of what's in the cup, "It'd be great," he adds. He glances
around the living cavern for a moment, then looks back at Kassima.

"That's a bit low on the 'enthusiastic reaction' scale," Kassima quips,
wry, "but an assent's an assent's an assent. All right, then." She tugs a
full brownrider's knot out of the same pocket and gets up from her seat
long enough to proffer both to him. "Drills are in early afternoon
tomorrow, you lucky sot, but I've a dawn sweep that needs flying, so don't
think you're getting off too easy. Welcome to the Wing; 'twill be an honor
t'fly with you both." She snaps a salute after saying this--which seems to
remind her: "And now you should never, ever, ever, ever salute or ma'am me
again unless 'tis formal business; got that?"

A'ran grins, taking the knot and wing patch, standing to face the
wingleader. "Thanks," he says, "It'll be an honour to fly in your wing." He
nods again, "Yes, wingleader," he says.

Kassima casts her eyes up towards the ceiling in an exaggerated roll.
"Kassima or Kassi is *fine*," she assures, looking back down with a rueful
grin. "'Wingleader' is preferrable to 'ma'am,' but just as unnecessary,
unless 'tis during Fall or drills, and if'n you slip then I promise I'm nay
like t'be too upset. Now. I should ask you the important question." She
adopts a too-straight face. "When d'you plan t'start having children? And
how many? Now that you're officially tapped, I can start laying the bets,
and a little inside information is always helpful."

Dragon> Telgar Thunderbolt Wing sense that Lysseth flips the OOC switch
long enough to solemnly present Orvieth with the accoutrements every new
Thunderbolt dragon receives; namely, a dragon-sized maroon crushed velvet
suit, platform shoes, Ray Bans, and a gold fang. (It's a long, long story. ;)

Dragon> Telgar Thunderbolt Wing sense that Orvieth snorts, << Platform
shoes? >>

A'ran pauses for a moment, the chuckles. "You're not serious, are you?" He
asks, glancing around the room. He eats the rest of his meat quickly.

Dragon> Lysseth bespoke Telgar Thunderbolt Wing with << But of course. How
can one be a proper member of Pimpdaddy Wing without platform shoes?
Granted, I should probably add a poofy hat with a feather in it to the
costume too one of these days.... >>

Dragon> Orvieth bespoke Telgar Thunderbolt Wing with << Well, yeh, -now- it
makes sense. >>

"Oh, dead serious." There's a pause. "Mostly serious." Another pause. "Sort
of serious?" Kassi resumes her seat and flashes him a grin. "I do tend
t'place bets on who spawns how many and when, whether they're part of
m'Wing or nay; and there *is* a tradition for Thunderbolt riders t'be the
most prolific in all Telgar, if'n nay all Pern... but you don't *have*
t'plan spawnings. Just don't tell anyone I said that. Anyway, either way, I
can always decide how I want t'bet without input from you, but I should
warn in advance that means I'll laugh if'n you ask for a cut of the profits
later." The greenrider sounds at least somewhat facetious about that part,
thankfully.

A'ran grins, "I've really given it no thought, then." He says, "Though if I
do, I'll let you know," he adds.

Kassima gives a solemn nod. "I appreciate that. And, a'course, being a
Thunderbolt rider means you're free t'join any and all of the myriad
wagering pools on your Wingmates' virility and fecundity, if'n you've the
marks; I highly recommend the pool on L'cher. Still running strong after
all these Turns. More seriously--is there aught you want t'know, any
questions you have about how we operate, a'fore you get thrown into the
middle of it all tomorrow?"

A'ran grins and shakes his head slowly, "No, I'm pretty sure I know how
most of the wings in this weyr work," he says, rolling his eyes, "Hey,
maybe weyrling training does have a use after all - apart from turning us
into minions for the wingleaders."

Telgar Weyr> Kassima gets the Wing pages all updated and stuff. Whee! I
feel all productive! Now I just need to finally get around to updating the
Encyc, but methinks at this point *that* task requires strong liquor as
accompaniment rather than Mountain Dew. :P ;)

Telgar Weyr> A'ran laughs.

"You may be surprised. Only the riders who fly with a Wing ever *really*
know how it functions," Kassi cautions, but without any evidence of worry.
"Which is one reason our new riders don't fly Fall for a couple of
sevendays, until we're sure everyone's adjusted... but I doubt you'll have
any serious trouble. And Faranth knows we'll welcome another brown after
the Weyrlingmaster team stole two of our best. But believe you me, if'n you
thought Weyrling training was an adventure, I fear you've seen naught yet."
A grin follows this, though.

A'ran grins and nods, "Well, I'll be able to figure it out... I think." He
pauses, "We don't fly fall for two sevendays?" He asks, "Why not, we've
been flying resuply for months."

Kassima shakes her head. "You don't--two sevendays at least; could be more,
but I'm thinking nay, nay in this season. Flying resupply and flying
t'fight aren't really the same. The main reason though is that we have our
own formations and patterns, as any Wing does; nay rider who hasn't had
time t'get so used t'our ways that they know what t'do in Fall without
thinking about it first flies against Thread with us. Holds for transfers
in from other Weyrs, too, so don't think 'tis a slight on your experience."

A'ran nods slowly, "So what's the sweep over tomorow?" He asks, grinning
slightly. "Just the hills and stuff or do I need to go over to Bitra?"

"You'll be flying over Lemos and Woodcraft," Kassi replies after a quick
pause and glance upwards to check her memory. "It should be an easy sweep,
nay trouble anticipated, but 'twould be obliged if'n you'd check in at the
Hold and consult the Starsmith there--we've Fall again there a'fore too
long, y'know, and that area's such a blighter t'protect in tricky weather."

A'ran nods again, "Allright," he says. He places his empty mug on the
serving table and glances around the cavern. "If you'll excuse me," he says
after a slight hesitation, "I'll go put this patch onto my jacket." He grins.

Kassima gives a quiet laugh, and waves her spoon in a shooing gesture. "Go,
go, by all means. See you in the morrow at drills, Wingrider."

A'ran nods and turns, walking out of the living cavern into the bowl.

A'ran walks down the short tunnel and out into the bowl.