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The Talk About Telgarians


Date:  October 30, 1997
Place:  Benden Weyr Living Cavern
Game:  PernMUSH
Copyright Info:  The World of Pern is copyright(c) to Anne McCaffrey 
l967. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a registered copyright.

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Kassi's Note:  Once upon a time, there were a pair of sisters in evil who
delighted in spamming each other to death, an unpleasant Weyr called
Telgar that kept spawning worrisome rumors, and a set of straps that 
never did get fixed.  This is their story.  Many thanks go to Aph for
contributing this log and doing the primary editing of it.

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The Log:

Strap-buckles jingle lightly as Kassi sets herself into her chair, a set of 
fairly new-looking straps slung over one shoulder and the means with which
to repair them in her hands. Both tools and straps get set onto the table
in front of her a moment before she turns to wave towards her friend. "Aph,
g'deve! 'Tis the dinner hour for you as well, eh?"

Aphrael ambles into the caverns, jacket clutched in one hand, and a nicely
wrapped bundle in the other. Hearing Kassi, she grins and waves, "G'deve,
Kassi. Oh, yah, I'd say so. Spent all day doing drills and I'm /starving/,
especially after watching Prefeth devour a herdbeast or two."

Kassima laughs, rummaging around in her repair kit for a set of sturdy
scissors and an awl to punch holes in leather. "Amazing t'think that
watching a dragon consume an entire creature whole would stir the appetite,
but I'm quite familiar with that feeling m'self. I'm glad Lyss isn't
hungry, too, or I'd be too ravenous to ever get these straps done...."
Placing her utensils neatly in order by the straps, she pushes herself away
from the table and stands to walk over towards where the food is waiting.
"What would you like? I might as well get it while I'm up... and what's
that thing you're carrying?"

Aphrael drops her jacket onto a bench at the table Kassima's at, setting
the bundle down beside it. She moves to follow the greenrider to the
hearth, brow furrowed as she peers into the stewpot. "I think I'll have
some herdbeast." Of course, it wouldn't have anything to do with Prefeth's
recent meal.. nahh. "That? Oh, that's t'knives we got at the gather. I
thought I'd polish them up a bit after I'd eaten."

Kassima shakes her head in amusement at Aphrael's choice. "Suit yourself.
Methinks 'twill have the pepper salad, rolls, and ribs--if'n as little
water is used in their making as I suspect, they should still taste well
enough." She deftly scoops all of the items onto her plate, snaring a spoon
and a mug of cool cider. "Ah! A worthy cause, that," she observes as she
settles back down at the Thunderbolt table. The straps get nudged aside to
make way for her plates. "Have they lost so much shine already?"

Aphrael picks up a plate, piling on some herdbeast meats, rolls, and a few
fruits. Grimacing over the lack of anything 'suitable' - at least for her -
to drink, she finally decides on some plain juice. Moving back to the
table, she sets her things down, laughing, and shaking her head, "Not
truely; it's more for something to do, I think. With Prefeth sated we can't
really go anywhere, and I'm not in the mind to be studying right now."

Kassima wrinkles her nose, evidently sympathetic. Her next words confirm
that. "I know what you mean, methinks. I've had strap-mending duty all day,
after the morn's drills--and after I finally get m'*own* straps fixed up,
I'm nay touching another set until either I draw the duty again or they
once more need repairing. I have had it up to *here*," she adds, holding
her fork up to the level of her throat with a rueful grin, "with bits of
leather today. Aught at all would be welcome respite--including dinner.
Business may go a'fore pleasure, but if'n I don't get a bite to eat soon,
'twill nay be fit for either!" To emphasize her point, she takes a hearty
bite of the salad and crunches contentedly.

Aphrael bursts out laughing, nodding quick agreement as she pops a slice of
the herdbeast meat into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "Strap mending -
now that's something that's important but so.. repeditive! Like drills, I
suppose," She chuckles ruefully, "At least strap mending is rare enough
that it doesn't come to every rider too often," she nudges the jacket and
bundle over to make more room, taking a sip of her juice with a faint
grimace. "Y'know, I never realised how much I miss water, until there's so
little of it around." No klah!

"Tedious," Kassi affirms, reaching for one of the ribs on her plate. "At
least there's some enjoyment of drills, and some challenge--you're flying
with your lifemate, after all. How could it possibly be all that boring?
Yet straps...." She screws up her features in a comically exaggerated
grimace. "Bleah," is her expressive statement. "Needful, 'tis. Useful,
'tis. *Boring*, 'tis--but every lifestyle as its moments of boredom. I know
what y'mean; I've wound up travelling to Greystones or somewhere else to
bathe and wash Lyss, as oft as nay. Too much more quality time spent with
m'beloved kinsfolk, and I believe there's a risk that I'll leave them all
tied to the nearest trees or rocks with rags stuffed in their mouths!"

Aphrael chuckles lightly, and glancing towards the riding straps, is
inclined to agree, "Yah, that's true. And that just about sums it up -
blah." With a giggle at Kassima's words, she munches on a roll, chuckling
ruefully. "That's why I've been travelling to Shipfish Island, or out to
some of the lakes in the Benden territory, with Bree. My family and I can
only take so much of each other, methinks." Curious now, she asks, "How is
your ma coping with Lysseth coming to visit so often?"

Kassima strips some of the meat from the rib's bone with her teeth, pausing
to chew and swallow it before responding. "Shipfish is a lovely island, but
Boll's preferrable--there's food and drink there. 'Tis another place that I
tend t'go to when Lyss hounds me into it or I decide I can't spend one more
moment with m'darling relatives." She rolls her eyes up towards the
ceiling, but there's humor in the gesture. "Oh, Mum doesn't see Lyss,
a'course. We don't visit the old cothold--I usually take her by one of the
other cotholds m'kinsfolk hold, nearby. There's one with a lovely pond
that's nay quite large enough t'be called a lake. If'n Da and the relatives
who live at his holding wish t'see me, they come over t'visit, and I try
and take a moment t'see Mum from time t'time. Inconvenient--but all for the
best, really."

Aphrael quirks a grin, shrugging slightly as she leans back and finishes
off the meatroll in her hands, "I don't know -- I think I kind of like the
fact that Shipfish is so deserted. One can easily bring food and drink, and
it's nay so easy to ask other people to leave just to have some time
alone." Laughing softly, she tilts her head as she listens, picking some
meat from her plate and chewing absently, "Oh, I see. I never understood
your ma's aversion to dragonkin -- then again, we all have our
eccentricities." Some more than most, too.

Kassima inclines her head, picking up one of her sourdough rolls to butter
it. "True enough, I suppose. I never really mind if'n there are others
about, though--I've solitude enough on watch, on sweeps, in the weyr at
night; 'tis just me, Lyss, the Swarm, and sometimes Kaylira. Though I'll
admit that there's a certain joy in having the beach all to m'self,
too--especially when I'm with Kay, trying t'teach her t'build sand-weyrs
and the like. She's abysmal at it, by the by." Before sinking her teeth
into her roll, she remarks mildly, "Shards if'n I ever understood it, 
either. I'm just grateful t'her that she's accepted what I am, for all that 
she wishes 'twere else--handfasted, heir to the holding, a Guard, and a 
mother many times over, most notably. Though if'n she can accept that I'm a 
rider instead, I think she'd have been content with almost aught I could've
chosen t'do in life."

Aphrael bursts out laughing, shrugging slightly, "So may she well be -
after all, building sand weyrs is not a necessary function in life. And, if
I recall rightly, or firelizards are pretty terrible at it, too." She
leaves the comment on solitude unremarked upon, though her friend is
probably well aware that Aph's been doing her best to keep to herself, of
late. Smiling a little wistfully, she nods quickly, "Yah, you were lucky in
that. My ma was ever so disappointed when I didn't end up going to the
harper hall. I doubt though, I'd have lasted five minutes, there. Being at
Ruatha suited me much better." And offered her somewhat more freedom,
though she doesn't mention this thought aloud as she takes another gulp of
the juice, quickly making her way through her meal.

Kassima laughs, stripping another rib down to the bone before replying to
her friend's latest remarks. "Nay, but she does rather enjoy it! Especially
knocking them down when she's done. That lass is going t'wind up being
either a Baker, a Guard, a Smith, a drumming Harper, or a greenrider, mark
m'words--with her fondness for beating on things, what else could she be?
Which reminds me, Tria had an interesting idea...." Stabbing her fork
through another piece of pepper, she toys with it idly as she explains.
"She thought Kay might be too young for a stick-dragon, but nay for one of
those riding-toys as I got for Caidan--though hers was an ovine. They'd be
considerably more expensive, but 'tis something to think on for Kay and for
Tamlin. What think you, does it sound like a notion?" Quirking a smile, the
greenrider's expression is rueful. "Well... some parents, I think, aren't
very quick to realize that there's a little more t'love and life than
Harper-tales and hand-me-down dreams. Da always knew. Mum was a bit slower
t'learn, but she caught on eventually--and finally having a grandchild to
dandle on their knees and attempt t'spoil rotten has soothed them
considerably. I think you'd've made a fine Harper, Aph! If'n naught else,"
she winks, "you could've gotten revenge on Holly for a certain song."

Aphrael pauses to lick her fingers, eyes wide as she says, "Beating things,
eh? And destroying sand castles - it does sound like she takes after her
mouther in some regards," Winking, and ducking away slightly to avoid any
physical retributions, she giggles. "Why, that sounds like a great idea
Kassi - though I admit I really can't see Kaylira riding an ovine.. what
animal /would/ you get her?" She quirks a faint smile, and there's just a
tiny hint of rancour in her voice as she says, "Gah, don't talk to me about
grandchildren! My mother does nothing but bug me about it - she doesn't
consider foster children as counting. Anyone would think I was an only
child by the way she goes on!" Snorting amusedly, she says, "Harper, I am
not. Nor would I ever have been; I don't have a head for songs and.. well,
true. Though I doubt mine would have been nearly as good as Holly's -- she
did have a way with words, that girl."

Kassima cleans the last of the food from her plate, mopping up the rib
juices with half of her final roll before popping that into her mouth as
well. "Beating things," she confirms, once she's swallowed. "Including
people, originally. She tried t'hit the Weyrleader with a spoon more than
once--and succeeded a time or two. Fortunately, he was amused... but I'd
swear that the child's sometimes *trying* t'get me assigned dawn sweeps for
life!" The bluerider's query is met with a shrug and a simple statement
from Kassi: "A dragon, a'course. What else? She adores that stuffed brown
dragon that Mart gave me for her so much--imagine how well one to *ride*
would suit her." A definite note of sympathy tinges her voice as she pushes
her plate away, taking up the shears and straps. A section of the latter is
clearly ash-scarred, and two other areas show signs of strain, despite
their newness; Lysseth has always been hard on straps. "She sounds like
m'parents used t'be--only worse, for I *am* an only child. Mum's already
starting t'hint that with Kay nay all that far from two, it might be time
t'provide her with a sibling, Faranth help me. 'Tis almost a good thing
that she fears dragons so, else I'd have t'be wary of her sneaking up here
just t'slip Water into m'drinks--if'n there *were* any Water! I think 'tis
safe t'say that Holly had a way with words, aye; nay anyone could humiliate
and amuse as that woman could."

Aphrael coughs on her mouthful of juice, only just managing to keep from
spraying it all over the table. "Shards and shells.. she tried to hit the
Weyrleader? I shudder to imagine how she's going to be when she's older -
my apologies in advance if I start screaming and run from the room whenever
she enters it with a spoon in hand in the future." With a laugh, she nods,
"A dragon, a'course.. brown, eh? It sounds like the one Ryialla's child
has.. er, Rylan? Puffeth, it's name is." Luckily, this time she's not got a
mouthful of anything, as she coughs lightly, "She already wants /another/
grandchild? Faranth save you! I thought my mother was bad." With a rueful
grin, she nods agreement, "Yah, that she did. I wonder if she'll ever come
to Benden - I sure could use some of her talent to.. ahem.. compose a few
minor poems for my benefit." She winks.

"Whacked him with a spoon," Kassi ruefully confirms. "And made a few other
attempts on occasion--as I said, the girl may well be a greenrider in the
making! Aye, brown." Grinning, the greenrider clips away the damaged
leather from her straps even as she explains. "Mart said ere she was born
that 'twould be better to encourage 'him'--he seemed t'find it
inconceivable that I could bear a daughter, go figure--t'be a brownrider
than a greenrider. Should be interesting t'see what Kay names the toy, if'n
'tis still intact by the time she can speak more than a few words--though
her vocabulary *is* gaining steadily." This time, her rolling of eyes is
less amused and more exasperated. "Aye. She's too used to the ways of
m'other relatives--several of *them* have seven children or more! And nay
matter how many times I try to tell her that I'm nay that sharding
prolific... oh, now *that* would be a marvel." Enchanted by the very idea,
Kassi wonders, "Think Holly might take a commission or two from me, as
well? I've promised Mart t'see that someone writes a ballad about him,
y'see...."

J'lor comes in from the bowl.

J'lor says "good evening"

Kassima waves towards J'lor with the hand holding onto her leather-shears.
"G'deve yourself, J'lor."

Aphrael snorts amusedly at Kassima's relayed tale, grinning. "It'll be
interesting to see what sort of girl she grows up to be - after being
influenced by Mart!" With a grin, she shakes her head in sympathy, "Seven
children? I'd nay even want more than two at most, if that! You're
certainly got quite a ways to go to catch up with your relatives, Kassi.
Think you can do it?" Is she teasing? Her voice sounds teasing, though her
expression is mostly serious. Hearing J'lor, she turns, waving and
grinning, "Evening, J'lor!"

"She's nay been influenced by Mart!" Kassi protests, neatly severing the
section of damaged leather from her straps. Taking her awl in hand, she
begins to punch holes in the two remaining sides. "He's only seen her a few
times, and held her for only a moment... couldn't be enough, surely. After
all, how much d'you think I could've corrupted Kegan while holding onto him
for Mart during Kimbrith's flight?" Her shake of her head is so vigorous
that her braid sways from side to side as she responds, "'Twould take the
combined spawnability of M'kla and F'hlan to accomplish such a thing, Aph!
I doubt even the Water could make me into a mother of seven... though I
suppose we'll see. I'truth, I can't say that I'd really mind another
youngling--but *six* more?"

Aphrael's eyes only widen at Kassima's words, "She hasn't been influenced
by Mart - and yet thou doth protest so loudly, Kassi?" With an amused sort,
she answers the greenrider's question, "Very easy, Kassi, knowing you. One
time'd be all it takes, and if Mart's seen Kay a few times.." She leaves
the sentance hanging, omniously. With a chuckle, she shrugs, "I dunno, it
could be possible. Asrai had /triplets/ and you know how rare they are..
rare that they survive, rather." She amends faintly, chewing on some more
meat.

Kassima grimaces, swiftly amending, "Well, if'n she's been influenced by
his existence, 'tis only in that I tell her sometimes all about how she'll
nay doubt grow up t'be a lucky and talented young lass, readily able t'wipe
the floor with that lad of his. Didn't know that counted!" She turns more
of her attention than is really necessary to the task of poking another
hole through her strap-leather. "I'm nay apt t'spawn *triplets*, Aph.
There's nay sign of such a thing in m'family. Methinks all I have to worry
about are Lysseth's flights, and anyone else deciding 'twould be a fun
trick t'get me t'drink the Water."

Aphrael bursts out laughing, shaking her head, "Y'know, you've probably
disturbed two young lives already - as soon as they grow old enough they'll
be taunting each other just as you and Mart do now. It seems.. such a
waste." She sighs mightily, though her eyes flicker with amusement. A faint
quirk of her mouth, which turns into a grimace, "And there's barely enough
water to go around, let alone to slip into someone's drink for a Spawning.
Which, I suppose, could be considered a boon," She decides. After all, it
allows her to breath easier, also.

Kassima blinks, even her strap-mending forgotten in her surprise. "Such a
waste? A waste of *what*?" she wants to know. "'Tis certes nay a waste of
the Sacred Vendetta--how better t'continue it than to let it pass from
generation to generation? Imagine the legacy! The history! By the next
Pass, why, we'll have trounced everyone in Mart's entire
bloodline--including the brownie himself!" Her eyes nearly shine with the
pure, obsessive beauty of her vision. However, she slips back to normal
when the topic turns to the Water. "Oh, that's true enough. But once the
levels begin t'rise again, as surely they must...." She leaves the sentence
dangling ominously.

"A waste.. a waste of a poor life, that's what. Surely she could do
something more constructive than terrorise her mother's friend's son?"
Aphrael pauses thoughtfully, then admits, "Though I suppose it's a nice
enough hobby for some." Like Kassi herself? Snorting amusedly, she adds,
"Boy, and I glad I'm only his /foster/ mother, and not his blood mother, or
I'd be in trouble." She grimaces visibly, "Please, don't even mention the
/possibility/." The very possibility scares her.

Lysseth> Laerth backwings for a landing.

Lysseth> Laerth gives a low rumble to the other dragons as he descends,
then quickly tucks his wings to his sides to allow his rider to dismount.

"What better purpose in life could there *possibly* be, than tormenting
Mart-spawn?" Kassi shoots back. "Besides, I'll nay *force* her t'do it,
y'know. Her choice! But how she could possibly resist...." Shaking her head
in amazement at the mere notion, Kassi picks up one of her needles and the
sturdy thread made from the gut of some animal or other to start stitching
the straps back together. "Oh, you're all right, Aph. 'Tis only he and his
*decendants* that I'm focusing on. And Kin, too. Someday, perhaps she will
contribute a child to the Cause... but I digress. Methinks 'twill simply
have t'be wary, sie."

Lysseth> P'tran comes down from Laerth's neck in one smooth motion.

Lysseth> Prefeth lifts his head, warbling a greeting to Laerth. his eyes
swirl contently, distented belly and indication of his recent meal.

Lysseth> P'tran glances off towards the south end of the bowl for a moment
with a slight frown before turning to his dragon for a moment. Laerth casts
an inquisitive gaze on his rider, but P'tran dismisses it with a wave and
heads towards the living caerns.

P'tran walks in from the bowl.

Pierron humphs thoughtfully as the wingleader of Thunderbolt arrives.

Lysseth> Lysseth raises her own head to warble to Laerth, casting a glance
at her gluttonous clutchsib with a faint snort.

P'tran gives a brief nod to the other riders as he walks in. "Evening," he
says in a slightly subdued voice, but he seems to be making an effort to
look a bit less somber.

Kassima sets down straps and needle long enough to salute P'tran sharply;
for her to fail to do so would likely be the end of the world, after all.
"G'deve t'you, sir. How fares?"

Aphrael swallows down more of her food, chuckling amusedly, "Tormenting
Mart-Spawn isn't high on my list of priorities - especially since,
technically, they are my family." Foster family, yeah, but same thing.
"And.. well, I doubt she'd resist. Being your - and T'lar's - daughter
o'course. Speaking of T'lar, I've not seen him in quite a time. How's his
Nicoth?" Snorting amusedly, she adds, "I'm somewhat glad I have no children
for anyone to torment." Glancing up, she salutes automatically to P'tran,
adding, "Good evening, sir."

P'tran hrms as he considers something. He turns away from the klah pot and
negotiates for a little Benden Red from Peirron. As he takes his first sip
from the glass he turns back around and shrugs slightly. "As well as can be
expected I suppose. Nothing new. Not at Benden at least."

Aphrael spears a bit of meat, chewing thoughtfully as she tilts her head,
curiousity housed within her tone, "Not at Benden?" She glances towards
Peirron, from whom she no doubt got the latest gossip, "Is it something
about Telgar Weyr again?"

"You and your warped priorities," Kassi grumbles good-naturedly to Aph.
"Nicoth? He's well enough, insofar as I know. You'd do better to ask Meli.
Our schedules don't seem t'coincide enough for me t'see all that much more
of him than you do." Turning her attention back to the Wingleader, she
nods. "Hadn't heard aught m'self, save that the water level's still
dropping. All the news and gossip of the time seems t'be coming from
Telgar's way."

P'tran takes a longer sip of his wine. He appears to consider for a moment
again, then heads over to the table where the other two riders are. "I
haven't been keeping that much up to date with the water situation," he
admits with just a trace of sheepishness, something unusual for him. "As
for Telgar ..." He pauses for a moment. "I heard a few things while on
patrol."

Aphrael laughs lightly to Kassima's words. "/My/ warped priorities! Look
who's talking, sie," She responds jokingly, before a rueful smile surfaces,
"I've not seen Meli around too much of late, either, come to think of that.
That pair are probably housed up in their weyr." Thoughtfully, under her
breath she adds, "I wonder if another little one is on the way.."

Jayna walks in from the kitchen.

Jayna wipes her hands on her apron and bustles to the side table. "Hello,
there," she smiles shyly to the dragonriders.

P'tran takes a seat and gives a nod to Jayna as he does, placing his glass
still mostly filled with wine on the table nearby.

Aphrael's curiousity is definitely tweaked by P'tran's words now, and she
shifts slightly, not wanting to ask unless P'tran's willing to say
something. Hearing Jayna, she turns and smiles waving to her, "Good
evening," she greets lightly.

"Nay that I've heard," Kassi reports quickly to Aph, not dignifying the
accusation of warpedness on *her* part with a reply. Instead, she takes up
her strap-mending tools again and looks up at P'tran, curiously. "Aught
that you'd nay mind telling, sir? 'Twould be a good thing t'be able to
distill truth from the cauldron of rumors currently seething about the
place. As to the water--well, sir, if'n 'twere you, I'd keep away from the
springs; they're enough to roast the thickest-skinned watchwher alive. And
the Lake's more mud than aught else now."

Kassima nods to Jayna, too, waving her needle-holding hand in a semi-absent
greeting to the girl. "Heya, Jayna," she calls over.

Jayna tilts her head. "I don't think we've met, ma'am," she says to the
blue rider. "I'm Jayna."

Jayna grins at Kassima. "Hey there. How are you tonight? Sewing?"

Ceria walks here from the Inner Cavern.

Alyssa walks in from the bowl.

Ceria walks in and grabs a mug of klah. She scans the room before moving
towards a seat.

Aphrael's expression is somewhat rueful, though more amused than anything
else as she nods to Kassi. With a smile, she answers Jayna, "No, I don't
think we have.. well met, Jayna. Please, call me Aphrael," She says, as she
salutes Alyssa, and waves to Ceria in greeting.

"Mending straps," Kassi replies, smiling as she gestures to the tools,
spare bits, and damaged straps of leather on the table before her. Waving
first to Ceria, then to Alyssa, she hails them with, "G'deve, both of you.
How go things?"

Jayna shoots a welcoming smile at Ceria. "Ceria! Haven't seen you today!"

Jayna grabs some cheese and a cup of klah and sits at the table near the
hearth.

Working around a mouthful of cheese, Jayna watches Kassima. "That leather
looks tough to sew."

Ceria smiles politely at Kassima and Aphrael. She walks over to Jayna. "I
was in the kitchen most of the day," she says. "I just went back to my cot
to change my clothes," she says.

P'tran frowns at the news about the lake. He pauses again, as if trying to
decide if he wants to pursue the topic that he opened up with his casual
comment when he first came in. "You just missed it, actually, KAssima. Your
patrol group had left that area only a handful of candlemarks before.

R'val walks in from the bowl.

Alyssa salutes P'tran and nods to the others as she enters, her expression
indicating that she apparently has something on her mind. Her long strides
take her toward the drinks.

Aphrael turns her attention back to P'tran, brow furrowed slightly by the
serious tone of the news. Grabbing her jacket and bundle, she pushes them
under the table, making more room. She nods and smiles a greeting towards

R'val as she notices his entrance.

R'val ambles into the cavern, with a wave as he heads towards the klah pot.

Ceria walks towards the inner cavern.

Jayna glances up at Alyssa and quickly stands. "Oh, ma'am, let me get
something for you. You just sit down here and take a rest!" She smiles as
she moves over to the drinks.

P'tran pauses in his speaking for a moment to pick up the glass of wine
again and give a nod towards the others that have arrived. He looks a
little uncomfortable to be in the position of spreading what might be
rumors, but does not look like he's going to keep quiet about it either.

Jayna quickly looks around to see who needs a refill. "P'tran, can I pour
some more wine for you? Something else, anyone?"

"'Tis, but I've long practice at the task," Kassi explains to Jayna before
arching an eyebrow in surprise at the Wingleader's words. "Was your group
detained by something, sir, or did we leave too early? If'n memory serves,
'twere nay due t'be returning candlemarks apart...?" Spoken more as a query
than a statement, she seems to be wondering whether she misremembered after
all.

P'tran glances over to Jayna and examines his glass, which is still a good
three-quarters full. "No, I'm okay for now, thank you."

Jayna blushes, but manages a cheerful answer. "Well, we like to keep our
weyrleaders happy!"

P'tran nods to Kassima. "No, I had the patrol stop off at one of the
outlying Holds along the northwest border of the Weyr's coverage area.
Small place, I forget the name. Something-Woods. Anyway, there was a small
group of Telgar riders there."

Blinking, Alyssa glances over at Jayna and offers a thin, quiet smile.
"Thank you...I can manage, I believe. You're kind to offer."

Aphrael pauses, fork halfway to her mouth as she repeats, "Telgar riders?
What were they doing grouping near Benden's coverage area?" She asks, not
realising she's doing so aloud.

Kassima's eyebrows lift fractionally further upwards. "Telgar riders, out
of their Weyr--*and* out of their sweep range? My word. Perhaps they're nay
so asocial as rumor would paint them. If'n I may inquire, sir, what were
they about?"

Jayna bobs a shallow curtsey to Alyssa. "No trouble, ma'am. If there's
anything you need, just give a holler. It's what I'm here for."

Jayna's ears prick up at Kassima's words. Curiously, she sits again and
listens unobtrusively to the dragonrider.

Jayna smiles from her bench to T'fian. "Can I get something for you, sir?
Klah, or some wine?"

P'tran shrugs slightly, but its not a very casual move. "Well, outside the
Weyr is not such a problem. Don't be too hard on any Thunderbolt riders if
they're away on their time off. And the Hold *is* rather close to the
convergence of the two sweep areas. When I was Weyrleader, Ista and Benden
used to cover a little for each other when the other needed some help in
Fall." He pauses for a sip of wine. "Anyway,it didn't seem very unusual at
first, just a contingent of a wing out for a break."

Jayna listens closely to the Wingleader's comments, and quietly sips her
klah.

Kassima snorts faintly, evidently amused by the very notion. "A'course nay,
sir. 'Twould be the utmost in hypocrisy from me if'n 'twere, and I strive
nay t'practice hypocrisy. 'Tis simply that *Telgar* riders are said to nay
oft be seen away from their range... but I digress. 'Twas a surprise, is
all." Knotting together her thread securely, she turns her attention to
stitching the other side of the straps closed. "I recall flying with some
of the other Weyr's Wings on occasion. Did it turn out t'be something less
innocuous than it seemed, then?"

P'tran places his glass aside for a moment. "I did wonder what they were
doing out there," he admits. "They all looked a little tired, but I didn't
recall a Fall in that area that day. I would up talking with their
Wingleader for a bit and made the mistake of asking him, innocently I
thought, where the rest of the Wing was, since there were maybe at most
twenty or twenty-five riders there."

T'fian walks in from the bowl.

Alyssa carries her mug to the Skyfire table and sits with a weary sigh,
smiling at T'fian as he enters but otherwise remaining quiet.

This time, Kassi's eyebrows shoot up high enough to be lost underneath her
forelock. "Were they his entire Wing?" she hazards, looking faintly amazed
by the thought. "Twenty to twenty and five?" She doesn't take her attention
from her Wingleader, though of course she salutes the Weyrsecond as is
proper.

T'fian strides into the living cavern, riding jacket slung over one
shoulder. He pauses near the entrance, returning various salutes cast in
his direction. "Good evening, everybody."

Aphrael's brow is furrowed, though she remains silent as she sits by
Kassima, saluting to T'fian and eating thoughtfully.

P'tran gives Kassima a tired look and nods. "That's pretty much it. He
looked at me and said, quote, 'What in Faranth's name do you mean? This
*is* the wing!'. I decided not to pursue the matter, but that pretty much
ended the pleasantries at that point."

Davidon walks here from the Inner Cavern.

Davidon meanders in.

Jayna looks at the gathering crowd and sighs. With cheerful acceptance, she
drains her klah and moves toward the food table to gather some meatrolls on
a tray.

Kassima quirks a dry half-smile. "Aye, sir," she replies, "I'd imagine so.
The tales of them being understrength, at least, must be true--if'n 'twere
nay *just* his Wing, he surely wouldn't have taken such strong offense."
Mulling this over for a moment, she shakes her head. "With such small
clutches, I somehow suspect they'll have t'be asking for aid again if'n
they hope to get back up to full strength. 'Tis mildly surprising that
they've nay done so already."

T'fian walks over to the Skyfire table and dumps his riding jacket on the
bench at his normal place. Then he walks over to the night hearth and
busies himself preparing a mug of klah.

Jayna smiles at the muscular young man. "Hello, sir. Can I get you
something to drink?"

Jayna neatly stacks meatrolls and cheese on two trays.

"G'deve, sir, Davidon," Kassi belatedly adds to the two recent arrivals.
Alyssa's eyes follow T'fian for a moment, then she looks at the table,
hands gently turning around the mug that rests between them on the table.

Davidon pauses a moment to scan the room for an empty table, or any likely
place to sit, "Um..." he looks to see if Jayna is really talking to him.
"Oh, that's alright. I can fetch something mself." he waves to Kassi and
the others, making his way across the cavern.

Aphrael absently takes a gulp of her juice, grimacing just slightly before
she spots Davidon, smiling and waving a greeting to him, "Heya, Davi."

Jayna smiles at Davidon. "I'm sorry, I don't think we've met." Her brow
furrows. "Or HAVE we? Well, just in case, I'm Jayna. I work here." She
grins.

P'tran takes a long drink of his wine and nearly finishes off the glass at
once. Though he doesn't show any other outward signs, those close to him
would recognize that gesture to mean something was troubling him about the
whole mess. "I sensed things souring a bit between their riders and ours,
so I pulled us out of there." He pauses a moment. "One of the Lord Holder's
assistants tried to pull me aside. He thought I was still the Benden
Weyrleader despite the lack of the appropriate knot on my shoulder. He
actually asked if it were possible to extend Benden's coverage areaa little
further north of the Hold."

R'val chuckles, "Some people are indeed ignorant. One would think they'd
look for such a recognizable knot!" He grins at P'tran, "But I fear you'll
be mistaken for the weyrleader till the day you die, P'tran."

Davidon smiles back at Jayna after waving a cheery hello to Aphrael, "I
guess we haven't been introduced. I'm Davidon....I sort'a work here too."
As he makes for the food and drink he arches an eyebrow at the
conversation, trying to catch on.

T'fian glances towards the Thunderbolt Wingleader for a moment then settles
down at the Skyfire table stiffly. "Wingsecond," he greets Alyssa with a
smile.

P'tran gives a small, humorless smirk. "Well, some of the smaller Holds
don't get a lot of news, and I did try to be very visible to the Holders
when I was Weyrleader. Anyway, the point is, you don't generally hear about
a Hold making such a request. A hold may want to be beholden to a different
Weyr sometimes, but this one was already in our area. I don't think they
like being as close to Telgar as they are."

"Hello, Weyrsecond," Alyssa murmurs back, then, nodding toward P'tran, adds
even more softly, "You should hear what P'tran's saying, T'fian...things
are just falling apart."

Kassima tilts her head, surprise warring with concern in her eyes. "He
wanted t'be under our Wings, rather than Telgar's? Forgive me for stating
the obvious, sir, but that can't be a good sign... did he give any
reasons?"

Jayna listens entranced. Her hold was one of those that never got any news!

T'fian looks again at P'tran, then back at Alyssa. "As long as the caldera
stays up, it can't be too bad. At least there won't be any floods about
here this year. What's he talking about?"

Alyssa replies simply, tiredly, as she rubs her eyes, "Telgar and their
beholden areas."

Davidon pours himself some klah and grabs a sweetroll, munching on it where
he stands, not picking out a place to settle down yet, he's too busy
catching up on the day happenings.

P'tran hrms slightly at Alyssa's words, not wanting to become the center of
attention. He turns to Kassima as if it were a private conversation, but
still speaks loud enough for the others nearby to hear. "Well, the point
is, they are under our wings as it is, but its one of those areas that
could be covered by either Weyr in a pinch, like some of the places that
border Ista's area near Nerat, for instance." He finishes off the rest of
the wine in his glass and sets the glass aside again. "I talked to him for
a bit once we were out of earshot of the Telgar riders."

T'fian shrugs at Alyssa. "What'd Telgar do this time?" he asks, not very
interested.

Jayna quietly approaches with the wineskin and questioningly holds it over
the Wingleader's glass. "More, sir?" she asks unobtrusively.

Kassima folds her hands on the table, strap repair forgotten sometime
during the conversation. "Then was it the possibility of being covered by
Telgar at all that they wished removed? That *is* strange... if'n their
dealings aren't oft with that Weyr, you'd think 'twould nay make so much
difference so long as the Telgarians did their job." Tilting her head
slightly, she wonders, "Did he offer an explanation, sir?"

Alyssa sighs, shrugging. "It's nothing, really...just...politics, I hope. I
hope."

Davidon shrugs and takes his klah and a second sweetroll to an empty table.
Once settled in he begins dumping plentiful amounts of sweetener to his
klah.

T'fian smiles at the Skyfire wingsecond. "Listen, Telgar's been whiny and
useless since ... shells, before I Impressed. Unless they've got a request
for riders, I never pay a word of attention that comes out of that Weyr.
They're worse than Fort, no offense to T'vor."

P'tran hears Kassima's question, but purposely takes the diversion of
Jayna's question to avoid answering for a moment. HE considers for a moment
before responding, "No, I think I've had enough." He turns back to Kassima
and sighs slightly, waving a hand for a moment in the air in a gesture of
dismissal. "Oh, he had some ... wild rumors. He said he had heard something
about Thread damage up north in Telgar's area, but I sincerely doubt *that*
could be true."

"T'fian...." Alyssa sighs, ,resting a hand on his. "They're getting to be
in bad shape, from what I've been hearing. Maybe they do need help."

Jayna glances, shocked, at T'fian. Holdbred, she's not used to hearing
dragronriders berate other Weyrs.

T'fian doesn't notice Jayna's glance. "G'mort'll ask for assistance if they
do need help," he replies to Alyssa. "Right now, I'd say we've our own
problems."

Jayna softly moves toward the drink table to put the wineskin back. She's
listening hard to the conversations around her. She picks up the small
trays of meatrolls and deposits them at the tables where people are
sitting.

"One would *hope* nay," Kassi agrees vehemently. "I'd be inclined t'be
dubious, m'self. Such a thing as that would be rather hard to keep
quiet--though there's a tale Grandsire used t'speak of that dates from the
last Pass, in the time of the Oldtimers, that states the Leader of High
Reaches tried that once. It didn't work then; surely, 'twould nay do so
now... though those Telgarians someties seem just about as hidebound as
legend painted certain Oldtimers, if'n I may say so."

Davidon leans over and calls to Jayna, "So, how long have you been at
Benden? I'm afraid I haven't been keeping up to date with all the new
faces."

Alyssa, nodding, tells her companion in a soft voice, "We do, but the fact
remains they border our coverage area. Any...failings affect us too,
T'fian."

P'tran nods to Kassima. "Those rumors can*not* be true," he says, his tone
insistent. "I would hardly think a Weyr would be so bad off in this day and
age that something could progress to that. I would have straightened out
things with the Lord Holder, but I didn't want to risk the Telgar riders
hearing about the inquiry. It would be an affront to them. I know I
wouldn't like it if the roles were reversed."

Jayna drops a tray on Davidon's table and sinks to the bench. "Oh, I'm very
new," she smiles. "I got here a few sevendays before the Hatching."

T'fian shakes his head. "We cover our area, and are always willing to help
G'mort and Benna out if they need it. I really missed Kerlyn during your
weyrlinghood, but she had to go help with Telgar's weyrlings. So, we're
always willing to help them out, but unless they specifically ask for it,
it's their concern. Just like our sweep area isn't their concern."

Davidon nods and then smiles, "Well, how do you like living in a weyr? You
getting used to everything?"

Jayna scratches her head. "You know, I just can't keep everybody straight!
You'd think that after 17 turns of looking at farm crops, I'd be so darn
ready to look at actual people that I'd memorize them all. But,. . . " she
shakes her head and smiles in chagrin. . . "every day I make a mistake!"

Alyssa watches T'fian for a moment, then her gaze drops and her fingers go
back to turning the cup around in her hands. Her shoulders are slumped;
worry seems to pervade her.

Davidon chuckles, "I wouldn't worry much about that. :) You'll get the hang
of it soon enough. I had a hard time with it too i"m afraid."

P'tran overheads T'fian and turns to him. "Yes, I would rather we tend to
our own area and not have to bail them out all the time," he comments, but
there is a slight lack of conviction behind his words. "I don't think K'tyn
is going to try to rush to their aid. I know I would *not* want any
Thunderbolt riders going over there."

Jayna sits back and raises her hands, disputing Davidon's remark. "No, I
*can't* believe that. You're too . . . .too. . . . confident, I guess!
You're saying this was hard for you, too?"

A frown tugs down the corners of Alyssa's mouth as P'tran speaks, but she
says nothing more as yet.

Davidon blinks a couple times at Jayna and grins, "Oh, I've been here for
quite a few turns. It's taken me a -long- time to come out of my shell ye
see."

Kassima looks mildly affronted by the very notion, though only those who
know her best would be apt to see the emotion flicker across her face. "As
if'n they *could* be. Benden's Wings give nay cause for complaint." There's
simple pride in that statement, for all that it's said very
matter-of-factly. "The Telgarians may be bad, but *Thread damage*? And
covering it up? Understrength or nay, they've been fast enough t'call for
help ere now; I'd think they'd have done so if'n they'd gotten to such
drastic straits. 'Twould be a fine thing to find a way to quell these
rumors a'fore they can spread further. Tales of unchecked Thread damage
might cause a panic in those who'd be apt t'believe it... nay a good
situation. Nay 'tall. Sir, had you further heard the stories I'm told that
a visiting Telgarian was spreading--about how major injuries have been
thinning the Telgarian forces even more? It may be that they'll *have*
t'have aid from somewhere. If'n nay us, perhaps they'd inquire to High
Reaches."

T'fian looks at Alyssa for a long moment, then turns to P'tran as the
Thunderbolt Wingleader addresses him. "No," he starts to say, but pauses as
Kassima speaks. He comments to her. "I think Benden is best suited to help
them out, Wingsecond, but only if they ask. I would prefer G'mort to come
to us, rather than R'lym, but, like usual, all our wings remain under our
control. I think..." he trails off thoughtfully. "If they do ask for help,
we should probably send nothing smaller than a flight," he muses.

P'tran looks like he is about to say something additional, then shakes his
head. "No, I haven't head anything more," he says in a somewhat clipped
tone of voice. "In fact, I'd rather not going spreading the rumors that I
have heard already. I'm going to talk to the Weyrleader about it within a
sevenday, or see if Jehrina has anything about it. I'd like someone to give
us what the straight story is."

Alyssa's eyes lift to focus on T'fian, then P'tran, and she sighs,
murmuring something to herself about pride.

T'fian glances back at Alyssa. "What?" he asks.

P'tran stands and stretches a bit, then looks over at T'fian with a
confused expression on his face when he hears R'lym's name mentioned. He
hestitates to pursue the matter when he sees T'fian's attention turn to
Alyssa again.

Davidon looks up as a a fellow dragonhealer comes in and waves for him,
"Can you come to the infirmary and help us with something Davi?" With a
sigh he stands up, eatting the rest of his sweetroll. "Excuse me Jayna,
looks like I"m needed. Hope to talk with you again sometime." Waving to the
others in the living cavern he heads for the bowl with his friend.

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

Alyssa takes a breath, then, reluctantly, tells T'fian, "I am not about to
voice an opinion when two senior riders such as you and P'tran have ... are
working things out."

T'fian glances towards P'tran again, who has stood up, then back at Alyssa.
"Working what out?" he asks. "Rumors coming from Telgar aren't all that
unusual. If there's anything to work out, I'm sure K'tyn will bring it up
at briefings."

Alyssa shrugs and resumes her perusal of her now-cooled tea.

P'tran pauses a moment, looking at T'fian and Alyssa, sees the break in
their conversation and approaches T'fian. "Did you mention R'lym before?"

Kassima bows her head once, both a nod and an acknowledgement of the
rebuke. "As you say, sir. I've always been of the opinion that knowing what
stories are floating about can't hurt, but... by all means, the straight
truth is better for all ears. Hopefully, many of these rumors will turn out
t'be precisely that." The sentiment rings hollow, though. Kassi,
apparently, lends at least some of them a measure of credence.

T'fian glances up at P'tran, blinking. He pauses as he thinks back and
nods. "Yes, Wingleader. Why?"

T'fian adds, "Do you ask?"

Jayna reluctantly stands up. "I'll see you later, riders. Do you have
everything you need?"

P'tran hmms. "Well, you said something about him in reference to Telgar? Or
did I miss something?" he asks. "Just curious."

Alyssa smiles at Jayna, lifting a hand to her in farewell and nodding in
affirmation to her inquiry. Then she glances back at P'tran and T'fian.

Jayna bobs a curtsey to the assembled dragonriders and heads out toward the
bowl.

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

T'fian glances towards Jayna and nods. Then he looks back at P'tran. "Oh...
Kassima mentioned something about maybe Telgar should be asking High
Reaches for aid. I just mentioned that I'd prefer it if G'mort requested
aid from us rather than R'lym." He pauses. "He's still Reaches Weyrleader
right?"

Alyssa lets out a soft sigh, looking at T'fian's profile with yet another
uncharacteristic frown.

P'tran ahs and nods. "Ok. And yes, he is." He smirks slightly. "I may be
out of it sometimes, but not that far. Anyway, I think it's time for me to
retire for the evening."

Ursa walks in from the bowl.

Pierron grumbles something to himself as the wingleader of Dawnslight walks
in.

Alyssa says softly to P'tran, "Good night, sir. Clear skies."

T'fian nods at P'tran. "Good evening, Wingleader."

R'val smiles over at Ursa in greeting.

Kassima glances down at her unfinished straps, shaking her head ruefully.
"I, too. I've a feeling 'twill never get these done otherwise. Clear skies,
Wingleader, Weyrsecond, all." With salutes directed to the appropriate
personages, the greenrider picks up her straps and turns to head outside.

Alyssa salutes Ursa, then says to Kassima, "Good night, wingsecond. And
clear skies to you as well."

P'tran nods to all and heads out.

P'tran walks down the short tunnel and out into the bowl.

Ursa pushes back the loose strands of hair that her helmet tousled as she
unfastens her jacket. She strides to the table, pouring herself a large cup
of the well-steeped tea before moving towards a table, nodding to Kassima
and then P'tran as she passes. "Good evening," she says in weary tones.

T'fian nods to Ursa from where he sits at the Skyfire table. "Good evening,
Wingleader," he says to her, then looks back at Alyssa. "What's wrong?" he
asks quietly.

Alyssa's reply is short. "Nothing."

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