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To Igen We Will Go


Date:  September 10, 2002
Places:  Southern Boll's Skyspace; Igen Weyr's Skyspace, Main Entrance,
and Living Cavern.
Game:  PernMUSH
Copyright Info:  The World of Pern is copyright(c) to Anne McCaffrey
l967. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a registered copyright.

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Kassi's Note:  Hi, ho, the merry-oh, to Igen we will go!  I'sai's
feeling bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, so to speak, and decides to go
a-traveling, inviting Kassi and Lysseth along for the ride.  Since
she's rarely one to refuse, they end up at the desert Weyr and have the
chance to make the acquaintance of three riders and two very
argumentative young residents.  Threatened blackmail and philosophy
rule the evening, and it's all topped off by a warning, a gift, and the
disturbing question of who exactly has been telling Harpers that Kassi
has a lovely rear end.

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The Log:

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Taralyth glitters a thought of sand, of heat,
of - not eggs. No eggs. Nowhere. None. (But perhaps one to be stolen for
them? Perhaps.)

Lysseth> Taralyth senses that Lysseth let the prospect of Someones Special
wash over her; someone's not found any, and is remarkably accepting of the
fact... but while heat and sand she has, travel she does not have, nor
company. A moment to check with rider, and she glitters a reply warm enough
for all its obsidian darkness: they come. (And ignore that rider's
muttering about sand in the riding leathers; it's what she gets for wearing
them to Boll--)

<*> Lysseth spreads her wings to their full extent, bringing them down with
a rush of wind as she leaps nimbly into the air.

You hunch down before launching up, with powerful strokes.

Catching a gentle breeze beneath your wings, you fly higher up into the
sky, in the general direction of Fort Weyr.

<*> Lysseth disappears into Between.

Between
You gasp as the icy black nothingness of Between surrounds you! You hear
nothing, see nothing, and feel nothing. The trip takes five heartbeats...
Black...
Blacker...
Blackest!

You suddenly emerge...

<*> Lysseth emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Taralyth flares delighted acknowledgement -
wider even than his wings as he spots her, soaring.

<*> Taralyth soars, wide-winged, from where he'd been circling above the
Rim; he warbles to Thunderbolt's leader, and then darts sharply _down_.

<*> Taralyth furls his wings slightly.

<*> Lysseth's wings still bear traces of sand, left to sift down to join
that below after she's made her jump: a warble for the bronze, a trumpet
for the watchdragon, and she follows the former like a sandy shadow.

You furl your wings slightly to glide lower into the Bowl.

<*> Taralyth keeps going -

<*> Taralyth wings lower into the Bowl.

You carefully wing lower into the Bowl.

<*> Taralyth's not so cautious as all that; he tilts his wings to level
out, flippant as can be, and avoids the blue silhouette in the bowl's
center in favor of landing on not even a sketched-out paw.

<*> Taralyth flies carefully towards the main entrance.

You fly carefully towards the main entrance, then land.

IgenW-LC> Chayil has started to smile an odd smile, but it's gone as she's
spoken to. "P'can? N..not that I can recall. Maybe one or two at most. He's
a big flirt, but if he sounded serious, he probably was. Wh..." Then her
head swivels practically off its hinges and she mentions, "Visitors."

<*> Lysseth glides as much as spirals to her landing, charcoal-touched
wingtips manipulating the air with the finesse of long experience and the
energy provided by a long bask on sands distant from these. Self-pleasure
shows clearly in her flip of wings back, her rocking back on her haunches,
but her rumble to the other dragons is pure formal politesse. "So what's
drawing you t'the desert at this time of eve?" Kassi calls over to
Taralyth's rider once free of goggles and helmet. "Developing a sand fetish
I didn't know about?"

Dragon> Keturath bespoke Lysseth and Taralyth with << Visitors. Telgari. >>
Her mind extends to include you in the group-mind of Igen. << You are
welcome. >>

IgenW-LC> Junni looks towards the entrance for a moment then spies her mug.
To Marga she nods her head and offers the girl, "thank you... uh, was there
willow bark?" She keeps an eye to the doorway.

IgenW-LC> Livia chuckles at that, relaxing a bit, "What boy doesn't? But
yeah, what Chayil said. He's pretty harmless. Mostly just a flirt. I did
see him with that one kitchen girl..what was her name? Ruw..something. But
its been a couple of sevendays since I saw them together." When can he
possibly have time to be with other women, when he's always following her
around, anyhow.

IgenW-LC> Marga rolls her eyes. "No M'lady, that one's called Klah? I can
add a drop of Fellis if you're a headache?" Heloooo? Are we awake?

<*> Taralyth lands a fastidious distance from those already present, too,
but extends his muzzle to scent the air nearby; his rider has to rebalance
before he straps out, muttering, already unclasping his jacket as well.
"And you're one to talk?" he calls over on what's become a laugh. "No, no,
I figured it was warm, but there wouldn't be eggs, and if we're -very-
lucky nobody he wants for a candidate so's we don't have to go home early."

<*> I'sai slides down from Taralyth's neck.

You slide off of Lysseth's neck to land beside her easily. She rumbles,
cocking her head down at you, and you rub her eyeridges gratefully.

IgenW-LC> Junni scrunches up her face dramatically. "Will you stop yelling?
Yes, this is klah, extra strong I hope. Yes.. I have a headache. Blinding
one, thank you..." that last trails off and the goldrider clenches the
bridge of her nose with her right hand.

I'sai adds more ruefully, "And there'd be Alain, but, well. Forgot about
the change in time, and it's far too late, by now."

Hicerth rumbles a sleepy greetings to the visiting dragons, recoiling
himself comfortably in his favorite spot - which is where he happens to be
when he lays down, where ever that may be.

IgenW-LC> Chayil walks over towards Marga and speaks to her in a low voice.
She mutters to Marga, "... I'd... boots. The... in... she knows...
sweetener... and... cream,... she'll... I'll... her some..."  She picks up
a water pitcher and pours a tall glass to give to Junni.

IgenW-LC> Livia grimaces slightly as she eyes Junni, wondering, "Are you
alright, ma'am? Lingering a bit long, is it? The hang over, that is?"

IgenW-LC> Marga shrugs. "Yes Ma'am." she tells Chayil.

Dragon> Lysseth and Keturath sense that Taralyth glitters blue-starred
greeting, backdropped by his companion's crystal: << Our thanks. >> And,
less formally, << It -is- warm, after all. >>

IgenW-LC> Junni nods her head then settles into the chair carefully, as if
her head were a bucket of water threatening to tip over at any moment.
"Yah.. and I'm suspecting. Uh, did P'can come down those stairs any time
today?"

"*I'm* here because *he* invited us," Kassi reminds, attempting primness
with no success. None whatsoever. "Besides, when have I ever been one for
early nights? Since Kiss learned t'sleep through hers, at least?" Warm
indeed; she tugs free gloves and jacket too, stowing them on hooks built
into Lysseth's straps for just this purpose. "I'm curious as t'why you're
avoiding eggs, but the Search... that I understand more, remembering him
with Savanna. Lysseth's kept her muzzle quite out of it. Has he been
snagging many? ...Ah, Alain. Well, mayhaps as well from my end; if'n 'twere
your business, I'd have left you t'your devices, but there's a shame in it
still. Mayhaps on the morrow you'll have better luck."

IgenW-LC> Livia ruffles her stubbly hair, brows going upwards in surprise,
"P'can? Up there? Faranth, I should think not. He was asleep on the table
when I came to get breakfast. Him and M'rih were snoring to make the
pottering tremble. Don't think the kitchen staff was too pleased with
that!" She grins, cheerfulness in tact as she forgets whatever previous
concerns she might have had.

I'sai thumps his dragon's neck, flat-handed, fond; Taralyth leans into it,
however, humming low in his throat. "Since far, far before then! And - as
for Search - a couple from Bitra, a few here and there, and we'll see about
the morning. ...He's shameless, but at least it should get us some wine."
By his bright eyes, make that more wine.

IgenW-LC> Chayil does not choose to correct Marga's use of the word ma'am
anymore, but only sets down the glass of water near Junni, recommending, "I
heard someone mention that water was very good for people with bad
headaches and noise sensitivity. Here, have that."

IgenW-LC> Junni takes a couple of blinks then her face grows distinctly
red. "Shards... shards... " She grasps the glass and looks down into it for
a moment, lost in throbbing thought. "Oh.. who's coming to visit, Chayil?"
The water gets a sip.

IgenW-LC> Livia reaches for her mug again, taking a hefty drink of the
juice as she looks away from the blushing goldrider, a hint awkwardly. She
doesn't offer any other comment just then, though.

IgenW-LC> Donnal ambles out from the inner caverns.

IgenW-LC> "Telgari," Chayil reports, back on her feet and headed for the
door. "Taralyth and Lysseth. I'm not sure I remember who their riders are,
but Keturath is very sure about the dragons."

Kassima steps away from her green to offer a touch, perhaps even a scratch,
to Taralyth's muzzle; silent apology for any earlier implied slight, it
might be. And Lysseth's quite content to curl up neatly, left thus to her
own devices. "'Twas nay! Well... when there's nay paperwork t'drain all
m'strength and nigh on will t'live away," and isn't *that* deadpan. "I
don't know whether t'be offering felicitations or condolences. Nay offense
meant, Taralyth, but having t'explain t'someone's parent that you're
carting their child off t'the Weyr can be an adventure. Any protests?"
Slanting a look towards bright, bright eyes, her own naturally dark but no
less amused, she drawls, "Why, Is. What *have* you been up to? If'n I'd
known, I might have brought some from Boll." Pause. "Brought some *more*
from Boll." She's noticed his ducking of her question, to judge by her
quick-raised brow, but lets it stay dropped. For the moment.

IgenW-LC> Junni raises both eyebrows and looks surprised. "I'sai? That I'm
sure of... but, I'm not sure I've met Lysseth's rider. They're out in the
bowl?" She turns her head a little bit and that flush deepens as she sees a
male rider pass. It fades as she realizes it's not who she thought.

Taralyth noses agreeably, snorts a firestone-scented breath over her hand,
and then lifts his muzzle high again to survey what can be seen; his rider
snorts for the some-and-more, without replying to that at least. Instead:
"Ha! Hidework. The only way it'd do you in, would be if the Records racks
collapsed on you and knocked you right over. And no, no protests... that's
the benefit to just consulting the headwoman, and not going after a child
of someone of rank. Come on, come on, let's go in," and he shrugs off his
jacket before making his way between the dragons with habitual, easy caution.

I'sai heads through the main entrance, into the Weyr's Living Cavern.

IgenW-LC> Marga gets up and swishes back to the serving table and starts
putting more wood on the hearth.

IgenW-LC> Donnal wanders into the cavern, blinking at the glowlights as his
eyes adjust to the lit cavern. Looking as if he was sleeping in his clothes
(which he was) he stumbles to the klah pots. He nods and mutters
appropriate ma'ams all around, except to K'gen, of course. Marga gets an I
don't know you, sort of smile.

IgenW-LC> I'sai steps inside at last, dark-stained jacket already folded
over one arm, white shirt's laces loose at his throat.

IgenW-LC> Livia nods her head, still somewhat awkward, "Definately Telgari.
Hicerth says so too." She empties the rest of her juice, taking another
glance at Junni, then hops to her feet, offering the excuse of, "I'm
empty." She flashes a smile of greetings to Donnal, going to refill her mug.

IgenW-LC> Marga bobs a curtsy to Donnal. "Can I get you something, Sir?"
she's being polite tonight, dammit.

IgenW-LC> Chayil is already on her way to the door, smiling to greet the
visitors, by the time they get there. "Igen's duties and greetings to
Telgar. What brings you to visit us tonight?"

Kassima grins at the breath, not seeming to mind; and then she follows him
in, voice already raised in retort as she walks.

You head into the Igen Weyr Living Cavern.

Donnal startles at the curtsey and waves the girl away as if batting at a
vtol flying past him. He half snarls. "No thank you, I can pour my own."
Taking his klah mug and an enormous plate of meat rolls and other finger
food, he grabs the first chair available and slumps into it.

I'sai comes up with an entirely different reason than he had had outside;
"Because -you- don't have sunrise in..." he cocks his head, "Less than four
candlemarks. Telgar's duties, but it's nothing official."

Junni stands, both hands slipping behind her back as her face steadies into
a smile. A bit tight, a little bit pained, but genuine. "Igen's duties to
Telgar and her queens. Welcome!"

Livia lifts her mug of juice, once its full again, "Good evening, then! So
long as its nothing official." She grins, relaxing her shoulders once more.
Her gaze slides over towards Donnal and Marga absently.

Marga sniffs. "Well do as you please then, Sir!" she flares back.

"Are you suggesting I'm *suited* t'hidework?" Kassi demands of I'sai with
mock-irritation as she follows a footstep after him. "Lucky, lucky you,
t'be avoiding the ranking ones, particularly Lord Telgar... duties t'Igen
and her queens," she breaks off to greet the room in general, turning
attention away from him and more towards formal things for the moment. "I'm
following Is's invitation, m'self; haven't any better reason than that,
though I'd nay mind seeing U'yn if'n he's about."

Donnal half stands as the Telgari's enter and nods respectfully before
slumping back, looking through sleep deprived red-rimmed eyes at his klah
mug, as if wondering what it was and how it got in his hands. "I'm just
Donnal, don't need a sir and I get in trouble around here all the time, so
sniff all you want at me."

Marga snorts. "I can't say I'm at all surprised." And with that she
flounces back to the table giving Donnal the Grand Ignore.

Livia leaves the formalities to the weyrwomen, pausing by Donnal's chair on
her way back to her seat, "Late night there, mate? Ya alright?"

Chayil isn't the one to say where U'yn is or may be. Instead she offers,
"May we offer you something to drink? I'll get it if you like, or if you'd
prefer to fetch your own, you're more than welcome. I'm Chayil, in case I
haven't told you before...but I think we've met, haven't we?"

Junni gets one of those funny looks on her face, but that grin remains
steady. A muscle jumps in her jaw, however and the skin around her eyes
pales. Both eyebrows shoot up and she says, cheerfully, "please, come on
in. We've a good stew, from what I've heard tonight." A little green being
added to that look?

K'gen seems to be falling asleep at his tabel and his head hits the surface
of the table as the bluerider starts to slumber.

Donnal snorts and makes a face at Marga's back as the poor girl flounces.

Marga is still ignoring Connal completely, so he can make all the faces he
likes.

I'sai teases the wingleader, "Only if it's entertaining." Despite his
earlier protestations, he's not above letting those pale eyes skim over
poor tired Donnal, over Marga - flouncing and all - and anyone else without
a rider's knot who's roughly of the right age. And K'gen, while he's at it,
but with a bit of a wry smile that says that's not unfamiliar. "Have - oh,
that's _right_. At Telgar, you were visiting, you both, and that makes
you..." and falls into near-silent laughter.

Kassima darts Junni a brief, concerned glance. "You've nay had any
yourself?" she asks hesitantly. "Because if'n you'll forgive me, you don't
look entirely well.... Ah. Juice would be welcome if'n 'tisn't an abuse of
hospitality? Or I can be fetching if'n you can point me towards it. I don't
come oft t'Igen. I don't think we've met; Is, you may have--" Is's
confirmation gets a quick nod; she adds, "Kassima," with a thumb-point to
indicate herself. "Green Lysseth's. Well met and all those formal things.
Can you suggest a brand of hidework that *would* be entertaining, Is?"

Livia apparently decides that Donnal must be alright, so snags a roll from
the meal table, making her path back to her previous chair.
Inconspicuously, she nudges Junni's arm and offers her the roll, mumbling
quietly, "Eat this." Then to the Telgari, she grins, nodding to I'sai,
"Aye, we were there for the clutching, me an' Chayil that is."

Chayil also nods readily. "Yes, we were, and a lovely clutch it is, too. My
clutchmate, Livia." She nods towards the brownrider, adding, "Juice for
you, Wingleader Kassima; and for you, sir, what's your pleasure?"

Marga glares sulkily into her klah. Damn boys with damn bad manners. Scorch
them all.

K'gen seems completely oblivious, in fact, quite asleep at his table now,
enjoying one of the few moments he actually gets to rest.

Junni sort of takes the roll and holds it in one hand. "Oh, ah, no." That
green color darkens a bit further as the greying around her eyes becomes
more pronounced. "No, I'm not really hungry." She bites her lip then pulls
up her chin as her stomach quiets. "Junni, Tasieth's gold. Um. Tasieth's
gold rider. No.. gold Taseith's rider. I'm sorry." She shakes her head then
squints again, "I've just a pounding headache this evening." That roll...
gets squished.

Donnal actually remembers his facial muscles and smiles in Livia's
direction, nodding before gulping back half of his steaming klah in a
single breath. His eyes dart away as I'sai scans the room. Whatever it is,
he didn't do it. Honest. As he chews through his late night snack, early
morning breakfast, he watches the rest and as Chayil offers hospitality, he
glances over to Marga to see what she'll do.

"What was your name again?" I'sai calls over to Livia, perhaps not the most
quietly for those with hangovers, before realizing - "Oh, right. I'm I'sai;
Taralyth's. And if there's a white you'd recommend?"

Marga should probably be serving the visitors, but since there's lots of
people wanting to take that chore she just scowls into ehr mug while
thinking evil at donnal and ignoring him.

Livia sinks back into her chair, grimacing slightly as she glances up at
Junni. She sips her juice and offers to I'sai, incase he missed it, "Livia.
Hicerth's." She settles back into her chair again, trying to keep her
cheerful smile set in place.

"We have a very dry Benden," Chayil responds soon, "and also a Tillek with
a fruity sort of sweetness. I haven't tried them myself, but I have it on
good authority that they're both lovely, depending on what one prefers."
She's already headed for the table to pour Kassima's juice while awaiting
I'sai's judgement.

Kassima doesn't grimace at use of the title, but is quick to shake her head
all the same. "Just Kassima or Kassi's fine, please; I don't particularly
need the titling." No scanning from her, beyond a glancing, curious
eye-flick towards this side of the room and that from time to time. "A
pleasure t'be making your acquaintances as well, brownrider, goldrider. Or
Livia and Junni if'n you'd rather. I'm sorry t'hear you're nay feeling well."

I'sai senses Kassima adds in a low tone pitched for your ears alone, and
full of suppressed laughter, "*Try* nay t'be drinking yourself to the point
that I have t'drag you t'Taralyth, would you? I'm sure you're heavy."

Donnal figures he should be helping and stands too quickly, nearly causing
his dinner to fly off the table as he brushes the plate with a hand.
Addressing Chayil, he offers. "I'd help out ma'am but I don't know wine
from apple cider from ale. I could do the carrying though."

Marga gets up and glares at Donal. "Oh yes that's right. Come in and make a
complete mes of the living cavern, why don't you? I have to mop that up
onw. My I just present you with my sincerer thanks?" Oaf.

Junni finally slips and she winces as the sounds in the cavern goes up. As
fast as that slip happens she clears it up again and stands straighter.
"It's.. my own fault, Kassima. I just really don't hold a drink well." She
hesitates and grins, "please, call me Junni."

"Appreciated," I'sai returns Livia's way, by chance - probably - more
quietly this time; and, "...Dry sounds better, though a Benden that's not a
white - whatever A'deth'd drink, how's that? If you're acquainted?" He
clears his throat, "Please," and gives the two residents a longer,
increasingly thoughtful look.

You sense I'sai slants a smile your way, "I'd say something about being
called featherbrained, only you'd say that there wasn't enough brain to
factor in."

Livia glances upwards again at the wobblier of the two goldriders, but
looks back down at her mug, taking a big drink from her juice. Her gaze
wanders towards the mentioned alcohol as if she might like a mug herself.

I'sai senses Kassima blows a breath through her nose in the quietest of
snorts. "Would nay," she protests, with nothing like real indignance, "nay
with you--that's more Mart's line. With you, I'd be more apt t'be asking
whether all those feathers tickle."

Donnal scowls at Marga as he holds up the plate, not a crumb spilled
anywhere. He does stand ready, if not a bit off kilter, for Chayil's
instructions. I'sai's look puzzles him and he peers quizzically at the
rider, finally offering a belated. "Igen's Duties to Telgar and your
queens, sir."

"Oh, well, if'n *that's* it," and Kassi offers Junni a grin that's amused,
but equally sympathetic, "then I may be able t'offer assistance. 'Twas at
Boll 'til this scoundrel called me over here, so I've a measure of tincture
of asparagus on me--*I* am nay soaking m'self in wine after all, at least
nay currently, so I could spare it if'n 'twould help you any. Junni 'twill
be, then." The mention of A'deth gets Is just the edge of a *look*. It
transforms into something more worried. "Tell me that expression on your
face doesn't mean aught, bronzer."

You sense I'sai smiles again, secretively and sidelong, eyes aglimmer with
merriment.

Chayil pours Kassima's citron juice and instructs Donnal, "The wines are
already up here, under that counter, marked individually with which are
which. Would you get a bottle marked Baleera Four? I'll pour so you won't
have to worry about decanting." She's learned how to be a decent host, if
not necessarily knowing loads about wines. A glance towards Marga as Chayil
lowers her voice, "If he did spill it, it would be Donnal's to clean up,
not yours. Remember, you're laundry staff, not living cavern or kitchen
staff. And /lighten up/, will you? You're off duty till tomorrow."

I'sai senses Kassima's eyes narrow, in that you're-up-to-something manner;
but she can't not return that smile, even if hers combines humor with
resignation more than with secrets. "I'd like t'be hearing the story of
what you've been doing this eve, sometime when we're nay surrounded. I've a
hunch it makes a tale."

Marga sniffs and growls at Donnal and stomps off to get a mop anyway,
muttering about stupid oaf-witted Herder boys and something about horse
dung? It's the first time she's seen flying unspilt dinner and she clearly
doesn't belive a word of it. Or she just likes mopping, or something.

Junni turns about as green as the vegetable that's mentioned. "Asparagus...
? That's supposed to help?" She then nods her head just a little bit. "I'm
glad that I was doing all of it here... but I don't know how much I did.
Or. Uh, what happened after the first few swallows."

"Telgar's duties, Telgar's duties," I'sai says breezily to the young man,
though doesn't address him further - the lad's on duty, after all. To Kassi
then, out of the corner of his mouth and quite quietly, "No, no, they argue
too much." Pot, kettle. "Anyway, want a lazier night of it."

You sense I'sai, rather than reply in words, lets one eye close in a
gradual, as-if-accidental wink, as if fully aware she's indeed unlikely to
grab him and interrogate him in a cavern like this.

Donnal throws Chayil a grateful look as he has no idea what she is talking
about. He goes to the wine storage rack and crouches, peering in, finding
the wine easily. As he stands, he carefully carries it over to the
Goldrider. As he passes Marga, however, his helpful expression dissolves to
a glower and he mutters low. "You won't find a crumb but if you insist,
then go and mop in your imaginary little world." Approaching Chayil, he
carefully but awkwardly hands the wine over.

After a look of her own towards the feuding duo--hers less thoughtful than
bemused--Kassi snaps her attention back forward, to Junni: "Salless used
t'swear by it," she explains, as if that will make it all make sense. "And
it works about as well as aught else. Just be glad if'n you didn't wake up
with anyone unfamiliar, would be m'advice. Nay that I'd know much about
that, compared t'some... mmm. You've a decided point, Is." Call anything
black? Her? "Baleera Four? That should be promising. M'great-uncle has fair
things t'say about the Craftmaster's abilities, for what that's worth."

Livia's cheeks begin to grow a shade of red much darker than her normal
coloration, and she drains the juice in her mug again. She hops back out of
her chair, wondering, "Do we have any of that ale left? I know I'd like
some." Whether there is any or not doesn't seem to matter as she goes to
look at the meal table, her gaze picking through the remaining food items
without her actually taking anything to eat.

Junni pales even further then, as if someone else has turned the pump on
totally, she turns brilliant red. "Uh.. I wouldn't say that, ma'am." She
looks over at the table then waves a hand in the direction of a chair.
"I... I'm just looking to find the person I woke up with... whomever that is."

I'sai senses Kassima turns her face a degree or two towards you just long
enough to give a crinkled nose, even the tip of her tongue in the most
discreet raspberry possible; the affectionate, exasperated chide in her
eyes proclaims him Evil more than any words could.

Chayil accepts the bottle with a smile at Donnal, not bothering to chastise
him at all, or Marga again, for their interaction. Someone else will have
to deal with that; she's younger than either one, and not suited to playing
mother. "Thank you, Donnal. Will you please take the wingleader's juice to
her?" A nod for Kassima, as Chayil very slowly pours the white Benden
vintage into its gently rounded glass, careful to let no sediment slip in,
if there is any. She's no vintner; it wouldn't occur to her that there
probably isn't any, in a white wine.

Marga stomps back with a mop and starts ostentatiously mopping around
Donnal's seat. Oh well, he probably tracked some stuff into the cavern
anyhow. How often do they clean this place anyhow? Eucch.'

I'sai marvels ingenuously, bright glance having slipped from Donnal, "Is it
just me, or is there quite a lot of blushing going on? Can't imagine it'd
be sunburn, from natives - "

Kassima holds up her hands at once, and this time she *does* grimace.
"Kassi, Kassi," is the hurried correction, "nay the M-word. Never that--"
And once she's recovered from *that* horror, she can actually take in the
rest of what was said. "Oh. *Oh*. Shells, I'm sorry; I'd nay have teased
if'n I thought--well. 'Tisn't me, for what 'tis worth? Is, was it you?" She
makes a show of peering over at him. "It might just explain your good mood;
though nay *Taralyth's*, if'n he's lost a flight so recently as that." She
pulls away from teasing the other Telgarian long enough to nod gratefully
to first Chayil, then Donnal.

Donnal agreeably carries the juice over and places it close to Kassima. As
he moves, eau de stables probably rises from his wrinkled clothing.
Returning to his temporarily abandoned meal, he smiles charmingly at Marga
and bites with exaggeratedly polite nibbles at the spicy meatroll."

Livia grabs a pear finally from a basket of fruit on the table, and moves
to a new spot, perching on the edge of a table - not far enough away to be
antisocial, but not near enough to be right there. Her odd coloration seems
back under control as she calmly munches on her pear. Food good.

Junni waggles a hand and shakes her head. "I'sai, sunburn in Igen? Na..
couldn't ever happen." She makes another face then nods. "I'm just
hoping... well, I don't know what happened, but I wonder if someone didn't
get me drunk on purpose." She shrugs her shoulders then shakes her head.
"No... I don't think so, no one really knew how little it takes to get me
drunk."

I'sai holds up his hands, palms out. "I had absolutely nothing to do with
it," he avers, quite sunnily - at least until that long nose of his catches
that... smell... and the expression drops away into a stifled wince. He
covers: "Wouldn't they be more likely to get you drunk to, I don't know,
steal your marks? Read those secret Records of yours? Do you keep a journal
in which all of the blackmailable secrets of the Weyr are housed, ...like
some people?" Not that he outright looks at Kassi, at that last.

Chayil stows away the wine bottle and carefully carries the glass, just a
/tad/ too full, to I'sai. "Here you are, bronzerider. I hope it suits your
tastes. By the way, if it's not too nosy, why did you laugh at me earlier
when you noticed Livia and I had visited Telgar?"

Kassima can't entirely suppress a flare of nostrils at the not unfamiliar
smell, but she doesn't make comment beyond a murmur of thanks for the
juice. "Or," she muses, still on the topic of Junni's mysterious visitor,
"Livia was blushing too, wasn't she...? Well, but 'tis none of m'affair,
truly. Could it be that whoever 'twas was drunk themselves, Junni? Might be
then that they didn't mean to, ah, take advantage of you. As 'twas.
*Naught*, Is? Shells--I'll never get twelve from you at this rate, for the
new wager." Mourn, mourn. She lifts her juice mug, and lets lifted brows
and eyes wide with innocence be her only comment on blackmailers.
Particularly since she's listening with some interest for Is's answer to
Chayil.

Junni does manage a little giggle and holds her head. "Bronzerider I'sai..
I keep all those little notes and thoughts right up in this throbbing head.
You should *see* the stuff I've written about you." Okay, weird goldrider.
At Kassi's news she turns to the side and both eyebrows reach for the sky.
"Livia? Just *why* would you blush? Did you set me up with P'can then?"

Livia tosses her pear core quickly, hopping back off the table with an
uneasiness. She pauses, with a caught sort of expression, "What? Me? I
wasn't blushing! It was a trick of the light! And I would never wish P'can
on anybody else, ma'am!" She shuffles decidedly away from the table where
the riders all sit, looking faaar too cheerful. She turns her gaze on
Donnal. Yeah, he looks safe. In a far too happy voice, she calls, "Donnal!
How are things in the stables?"

Marga just sniffs at Donnal and flounces away to stow the mop and bucket.
He's so far beneath contempt she'd need one of thos ancient microscope
things to even see him.

Donnal finds his head bobbing in a remarkable imitation of K'gen but not
allowed the luxury of sleep, he rises to his feet and pour not one, but
three mugs of klah, bringing them back to his meal. He gulps back half a
mug again and looks about the cavern. As Livia speaks, he manages to keep
himself in his seat but he does startle. "Sick mare, Livia, been keeping us
up for a sevenday now, I told the stablemaster I'd keep an eye on her."

"What? Thank you," and what with the wine threatening to spill from one
hand to the next, once he's taken full custody, I'sai assays a sip to save
it. Regarding the diminutive redhead over the glass' lip, then, "I
appreciate it, certainly; and that wasn't laughing at you, so much as the
memory of a conversation at Bitra earlier, over marbles and wine." Though
his shoulders had stiffened slightly at Kassima's comment, he doesn't reply
directly, nor to Junni's mention of writing - just yet.

Now *that* gets Kassima's attention. She asks, rather too brightly, "Oh
please, Junni, do tell--what *have* you written about him? If'n he doesn't
want t'see, I certes do." Well, natch. Watch her mouth press into a line to
suppress any hint of mirth at Livia's quick denial; she finds this a good
time to find her juice absolutely *fascinating*. "You're a stablehand,
then?" she inquires of Donnal, quite as if she hadn't noticed the earlier
smell at all.

Junni frowns and apparently writes another mental note. She shakes her head
a little bit then shrugs both shoulders. "Ah well, it'll come up sometime.
You know how rumors are around a weyr. Anyway... how're people at Telgar?
Tarlo? Oh.. and some young blue... I can't remember." She chortles and
looks over at I'sai. "I don't know, Kassi. I don't know if I want him to
know what I've got on him for blackmail." A mischievious look that befits
the normal Junni better appears. "For now, at least."

I'sai senses Kassima does repent this much of her wickedness: "A tease, Is,
the twelve, and never derogatory. Y'know that, from me. How could it be
other?" How, indeed, when one of the nine thus far is one of her own.

Livia sinks into a chair across from Donnal, listless as a rag doll, "Sick
mare, you say? Must be tough for you. Did she sneeze all over you, or is it
a different kind of sick?"

You sense I'sai hitches a shoulder, a little awkwardly: a sore spot, one
she well knows, which makes it open for teasing. Still, though he doesn't
say anything, a faint nod confirms she's forgiven.

Chayil hears what I'sai says, but also something which hasn't been said.
After waiting a few beats to make certain the Telgar rider isn't going to
finish his statement, she endeavors discreetly to coax out a little more
information. "This conversation at Bitra makes me something of comedy,
then?" The tiny goldrider seems to take no offense, and may even have
enough of a sense of humor to hope to understand the joke and laugh at it
herself. "I hope it wasn't something my mother wouldn't want to hear."

Donnal nods with a bit of a smile to Kassima. "Yes'm, A new one, not that
good, so the mare has to be getting better or they wouldn't let me watch
her." He shrugs, looking down at his clothing. "I got so much crud on me, I
don't even know what color this tunic was in the first place. You get used
to it. But don't get too close Livia, don't want a pretty thing like you
fainting on me now."

I'sai senses Kassima extends a hand to brush his arm, too quick to likely
be noticed by eyes; it's apology, for she does know, should've known not to
tease in front of them. It's dropped with the touch, and she keeps eyes and
visible attention alike on the Igenites.

I'sai straightens from his glass, long fingers curling about bowl and the
beginnings of stem; "No, it wasn't that," he says rather gravely - if still
with that lurking smile - as if she had twice her Turns. "That first, at
least, given that I don't believe I'm acquainted with your mother; it was
more a matter of timing. Given that my friend was taking a moment to bemoan
your relative lack of Turns, you see, given that you don't remind him of
-his- mother." If he's overhearing what Junni's saying, it's not apparent
beyond his own slow reddening, high on his cheekbones.

Livia's head tips to one side and she can't help laughing at Donnal, "Oh
come on now, do I look like to sort that goes about fainting? I'm not
afraid of a little runner snot or dung. Last thing I've ever been accused
of is being some frail little girl or anything of /that/ sort."

Kassima supplies, "Tarlo's well to the best of m'knowledge; the blue,
couldn't be saying without a name. I don't suppose you could write it down
and pass it over?" She doesn't *quite* break out the puppy-canine eyes, but
it's a near thing. Her expression's rather like a child begging hopefully
for her favorite treat. "Please," she then says to Donnal, "the nay
ma'aming applies t'you too; name's fine. Most of our stablehands at Telgar
seem t'have tunics about like that, whatever their experience; me, I'm just
as glad nay t'have t'muck aught, since Lysseth first went *between*."

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Taralyth mentions with uncommon gentleness,
mind to mind, << It is well; let her know? There are so many, here; it is a
crowd, >> though not yet a crush, << and he is more tired than he realizes. >>

Marga stomps off into the kitchens to make sure the ovens are still alight.
The bakers start at four, you know, and they need hot ovens.

Marga wanders into the Weyr's kitchens.

Donnal chuckles and offers Livia a meatroll before she even has to ask.
"Well, like I said, I think you are a sturdy little filly." His eyes glint
with warm mischievousness and his smile is genuine in the compliment. "I
can't stand to live with me right now so I don't blame the residents. I
just haven't been able to get to stores when someone is in there to get a
spare set of clothes." As Kassima addresses him, he shrugs. "It's mighty
confusing but I'll try to remember, some people, I call ma'am and they are
apt to throw a bowl at me and others, call me insolent when I don't. If I
forget, I'll be sure to duck, Kassima? And muck is muck, part of the job."

Junni glances over then nods her head. "All stablehands do eventually. I
kept trying, but.. well, Mum kept that to a minimum where she could." She
gives I'sai a bit of a look for a moment then she looks back towards
Kassima. "This... depends on how onery I feel through this headache." She
then raises both eyebrows. "I'm tempted though. He's cute when he blushes."

Lysseth> Taralyth senses that Lysseth slides her thought alongside his, as
light as the feathers his rider's brain is not at all made of; << I have
done so. She is pleased to know it; she teases him, and sometimes forget
what is truly not kind to tease about, but would not wish him harm in any
of it... yes, there are many within. She understands. Should he not rest? >>

Chayil glances about towards Donnal and Kassima, Junni and Livia, Marga.
It's a very quick glance, but it's enough to remind herself of where
everyone is and whether any of them expect a response from her. None?
Excellent. Pulling her hair back from her cheek and tucking it behind one
ear, the small girl-woman responds in like kind to I'sai. He's given very
little, but what he has volunteered is intriguing. "I doubt anything is so
special about me or my years that your friend would have to mention them to
you; and I hope my relative youth doesn't disappoint this friend of yours.
I wouldn't want him to think me incapable of performing my duties."

Livia accepts the meatroll from Donnal with a broad grin. Food is the way
into her best graces, after all. "Well, thanks! And I suppose that the mess
is just part of the job. Like being a weyrling. We'll tolerate your stink,
no worries." She glances across towards the visiting riders and the
weyrwomen, then busies herself with eating the meatroll. Its a wonder she
never stops eating.

Donnal chuckles. "Just dunk me in the lake a few times, it might wake me up
now that I think about it. " Rubbing his chin, he leans back in his chair.
"Haven't managed to do anything stupid this sevenday, maybe I'm finally
learning." He scans the room, more awake after three mugs of klah.

"I won't throw a bowl," Kassi assures, though by her tone she finds the
image an entertaining one. "Or a knife, which would be more m'want; I'll
only get hives, and the sight would probably be unpleasant. Would it help
if'n I hid the knot away? I can be doing that." Junni gets a well-nigh
serene nod. "Naturally," she agrees without pause. "Now, Is, you have me
curious about who this friend might be. Should I start setting up wagering
pools on how much time he'll spend at Igen?"

Junni leans forward and eyeballs the bronzerider. "Let's just say.. he's
interesting when he's in a guest weyr surrounded by Riders." A quirk to her
grin and then she leans back. "You know, I should visit up north sometime
just to chat."

Donnal chuckles at first until knives are mentioned and he looks more
unsure. "I think I'd take my chances with the bowl, if I could be having my
own choice. And the knot? It's who you are. I'll just remember."

Livia smirks faintly at the stablehand, "Is that an invitation, eh? You
wouldn't be the first boy I've tossed in the lake who was in dire need of a
good scrubbing." Again, her gaze cants over to the other table, a vague
crease to her brow despite her continually jovial smile.

I'sai contrives most carefully not to look at Junni and Kassima,
tag-teaming as they are, lest that spoken-of blush heighten; he does take
the opportunity to glance after Marga, and then reflexively draw in a
deeper breath at the scent of savories. Then, "Perhaps not; it had been a
passing mention; and one can't always account for intrigue, it isn't always
deliberate, isn't always tallied up on sticks and hides. Duties, however,
were not an issue, were not in question." The diminutive form of his name
got a moment's glance aside, though, will he or no; "...Only if you let me
name the stakes." No guest weyr. No guest weyr. No no no.

I'sai senses Kassima steals a glance sidelong at you. "I'll keep this one
for your ears," she murmurs, "because I'm nay sure where it stands--but I'm
dreadfully tempted t'say t'her that you're more interesting when in a guest
weyr and *nay* surrounded by riders. Aren't you glad I didn't?" Nah, her
eyes don't glint merrily at *all*. It's a trick of the light.

You sense I'sai asides out of the side of his mouth, "Go ahead. I dare you.
But you can't blush."

I'sai senses Kassima's brows rise. "All right. But on your head be it for
underestimating m'acting abilities."

You sense I'sai takes a deeper swallow of wine.

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Taralyth imagines, a mere puff of wind that
might rustle along such feathers without dislodging them, << He shall. >>
One of these Turns.

Donnal waves a hand in protest. "No, but you can use it as a threat over
me,I promise. But the stablemaster waits and I want to relieve him before
he told me to be there. He's more a mess than I and he has a mate who
actually cares what he smells like when he stumbles into his bed." Standing
to his feet, he takes his plate to the dirty dish bins.

Though Kassi flashes a quick and rather wicked grin at I'sai, the
expression she turns towards Junni is entirely bland. Bland as white bread.
Bland as milk. Bland as tasteless cheese. "Oh, that I well know. But if'n
you think he's interesting then, you should see him in a guest weyr *nay*
surrounded by riders." No blush. None. Though she's biting her lip awfully
hard, and a quick blink mars the too-perfect composure. Then, quickly,
"Name 'em, Is; I'm interested t'hear. But thankee, sta--pardon, Donnal,
wasn't it? The knot's less who I am than *what* I am, but sometimes there's
little enough division between."

I'sai senses Kassima dares a triumphant look at you, through her struggle
to keep the red down, down, down--there, you see?

You sense I'sai's wide-eyed and yes, he saw, and - can he not further
react? He can surely try.

Junni glances over, apparently that headache is bringing out an odd side to
the goldrider. Teasing! Who would have thought. "Then again, if I came up
to chat, I'm sure that I'd have to share everything if I could find just
such an ear." She takes a sip of that klah from earlier and makes a little
face. "Geh, cold." A little tilt of her head, draconian, and she says,
"aren't we what we are as much as who we are? If we envision ourselves one
way.. we're that?"

Donnal nods to Kassima, point taken. Snagging another meatroll from the
meal table as he passes, he nods to those closest in his path.

Donnal walks out to the Bowl.

Lysseth> Taralyth senses that Lysseth allows the filaments to wave, more
lazily than they might in real wind; the motion's gentle as deep-winter
snowfall can be when it tries. << Then it is well. She *would* carry him
out to you, if needs must, but it is better not so. >>

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Taralyth muses as how they would need to have a
harper, to play - but on tune, not like _some_ -

En garde. Riposte. Parry. Chayil's lips purse lightly around their smile,
and she glances towards Kassima and Junni even while addressing I'sai. "I'm
glad to know that my abilities weren't in doubt, though if your friend ever
does question them, I hope you'll assure him that my training has been,
though short, of the highest caliber." Finally she does address the folk
she's been facing for most of her little speech. "I'm a little interested
in that bet as well, depending on the stakes, of course. Is the bet the
time I'sai's friend will be spending at our desert Weyr, or the identity of
the friend?"

Lysseth> Taralyth senses that Lysseth can (and does, more's the pity)
imagine, however briefly, a discordant lullabye; *not* restful, and it
sends a shiver all through soft down before she cuts off the line of
thought. Amusement trickles through at a flash of thought: or had he meant,
instead, one of those ballads suited more for the carrying off into the
sunset?

Livia looks a little less than pleased as she gets left alone at the other
table. Again she glances towards the other riders. Finally, she makes a
decision and gets up, making her way back to the serving tables. She checks
the klah pot, and pours a mug full with a distinct distaste. Carrying the
mug over, she returns to join the other riders, the mug of klah sliding
over towards Junni before she sinks back down into a chair, perhaps her
sixth different chair in just this evening.

I'sai- subtly wider-eyed after Kassima's comment, now, and after a deeper
swallow of his his wine - forces those lean shoulders to relax, and even
sends an admittedly tight smile after the stablehand, lightening into a nod
to Livia as she sits nearby; "I dare say that, were he in the mood to
question the abilities that matter to him, he'd prefer to verify for
himself; I'd be surprised, were he to take another man's word. Still...
surprises can be good for the spirit - I'm told." He doesn't speak for the
terms of the bet beyond, "Stakes? For stakes, I'll be most glad to take
suggestions," and instead substitutes another play on words, "To a point,
Junni. If I envision myself within my weyr, that won't happen till Taralyth
and I fly there. One does not between into stone although, granted, there's
ever so much of sky."

I'sai illustrates with a glass-stifled yawn, and eyes momentarily rolled
upwards as if to sky.

"I don't doubt that such an ear would be right glad t'hear it." Kassi
speaks with full certainty on *that* score; and while she tries not to make
any visible notice of the widened eyes, there's a moment where she radiates
as much self-pleasedness as her dragon had earlier. "Now that, I don't know
if'n I'd agree with. You can envision yourself brave, and envision yourself
clever, and envision yourself strong; but if'n you can't hold up when all
falls apart around you, then the vision will do you nay good. And you might
be the weaker, for having deluded yourself so long. I could stop being
Wingleader and would still be who I am." She pauses. "Probably. Depending
on how I stopped. The wager's on the time spent, isn't it?" Livia's
movement draws Kassi's attention to her for a moment. "What think you on
the question? If'n I'm nay being nosy t'ask. The one about identity, I
mean, nay about wagering. What, you want me t'be suggesting stakes?"

Junni tilts her head thoughtfully then looks a bit concerned as she leans
forward to say, "but, through enforcement and practice, you can envision
yourself and be that quality. If you envision yourself falling, let's say,
and every single time you go up to a height you practice that vision, you
would come to a point where climbing into heights would bring a fear of
falling. Just as, walking into a cavern and envisioning yourself as
confident. Not delusion, but willing it into self." She nods a bit,
satisfied even as her head throbs with thought.

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Taralyth lets the minor key ripple through his
bones: not restful, but then, that's not all he might desire. Resorting to
words, << Something grand, all ups and downs, >> and hopefully not landings
where they ought not to be.

Livia shakes her head slightly, more than happy to add her opinion on this
matter. "Oh no, I absolutely agree with the weyrwoman on this one. I
absolutely believe that you are what you believe you are. If I believe that
I'm something, then I'll go out of my way to make sure I become that. Of
course, that doesn't necessarily mean it works the same for everyone else.
Could just be me, I imagine." She slumps down a bit into her chair, a lazy
posture that seems quite natural, considering the hour.

"There is," Chayil agrees with I'sai, yet rather than elaborate on the
idea, affixes herself to what was said earlier. "And you? Would you prefer
to bet on a definite, ensuring the safety of your investment with the
absolute dependability of outcome, or are you the sort of man who'd rather
feel the ground fall away from beneath you, leaving you nothing to trust
but your instincts as to potential rather than inevitability? Would you
prefer to take someone else's word, trusting their perceptions and
reportings implicitly? Or would you prefer to test and try, to observe and
reflect upon your own experience and experimentation? Are you a
philosopher, I'sai, or are you a scientist?"

Lysseth> Taralyth senses that Lysseth shades her mindscape into deep blue,
beneath that feathers--night-color, but darkness-color, and whether
*that's* too eerie to be restful might depend on frame of mind; << Of
course, >> she agrees, for she's not one to question that the grandness
would be deserved. << So long as nothing went *splat*. >> From
unanticipated landing, no doubt.

Junni shudders suddenly and quite nearly drops the mug of klah she's been
nursing this evening. Both eyes pop open wide and the goldrider's face
pales quite definiatively. "Shards!" she squeaks. "Do dragons *always* yell
in your head when you're hung over and they want something?"

Chayil doesn't exactly jump at the sharp sounds from the goldrider with
seniority, but she does stiffen slightly and clear her throat, taking a
small step back. "Are you all right, Junni?" she wonders, with barely a
flick of icy blue back towards I'sai.

Kassima's headshake is perhaps more vehement than warranted; "You can
pretend t'be strong, or what have you," she says, spreading hands out
before her on the table--the juice mug has been empty long by now--"and you
can project that quality, t'make other people believe in it. But hollow,
'tis. If'n you've nay actually done aught t'build *real* strength, you'll
break when pressure's put t'you. Though I can see what you mean with the
falling-fear; mayhaps 'tis a question of *what* you're trying t'bring
t'yourself with will? Fear, hate, those I can imagine. Virtue, love, that's
harder. Nay and have it be real." She considers Livia a moment. "Huh; that
makes me think another thing. Mayhaps what matters is whether one
*believes* one can gain by belief...." The words trail off as she turns
regard towards I'sai. This answer, too, must interest her, though there's
less curiosity than a sense of waiting; perhaps she thinks he knows?
"--Tasieth yelled?" she's distracted long enough to question.

Livia's gaze shifts towards Junni at the squeaking, her features grimacing
slightly as she offers helpfully, "Hicerth does, but he's always loud. Are
you alright, ma'am?"

I'sai's demeanor had sharpened ever so subtly at the greenrider's mention
of how-she-stopped: something about the crook of his arm that holds the
glass, the way one boot slides a few fingerwidths to make his stance that
much more stable. The lift of his head, pale eyes made green and
increasingly distant by the glowlight. "I'd venture to say that sheer will
can do much, aye - _well-focused_ will - particularly when limited to
oneself; but delusion is entirely too possible. One might envision oneself
falling, and through repetition lose a useful fear already present, and
grow attracted to the sheer promise that imagination affords, the promise
of what-could-be rather than what-surely-will - which is to say, smashed
flat as grapes for the treading, and rather inconveniencing the drudges
that must clean you off the bowl floor," and that last with a slantwise,
wicked smile. "As for you, Chayil, with a certain wingleader present - and
do know I always enjoy your suggestions, Kassi, whether or not I'm at
leisure to take them up! - I can hardly deny an affinity towards
experimentation... at least, not with a straight face, or at least, not for
long; but I've learned that there's only so much preparation one can
manage, whether it was for my first flight astride my lifemate or Fall
itself, before one simply has to jump to the winds and _do_. - Which
doesn't mean I won't try and weight the odds."

Junni holds a hand on top of her head as if keeping that brain inside.
"Fardling little.. she wants my rear up the stairs is all. Something
about... please excuse me." She stands and puts the mug gingerly onto the
table. "I think she's getting an extra kick out of what even thought-sounds
do to my poor head, but I should go see what she's about. Goodnight, and
have a safe trip back home, if that's where you end up." She brushes off
her skirts and gives a nod of her head.

I'sai must have heard, earlier, for now he calls after Junni, "See you in
half a candlemark," though his tone isn't anywhere near serious.

Livia starts to get out of her chair as Junni makes to leave, "Uh, ma'am?"
She pauses, and sinks back down, slightly unsettled, "Uh, nevermind."

Junni pauses by Livia as she starts for the stairs. "Livia, if you see that
brownriding.. well, P'can, please tell him I need words with him."

Livia glances up at Junni again, a tormented sort of grimace replacing her
normal smile, "Uh, yes, ma'am..I will..but I..ah..nevermind. Goodnight,
ma'am."

Junni climbs the stairs, past the balcony and up to the upper hallway.

Kassima, for her part, remains relatively relaxed in her seat; if his
stance earns a glance, a bare hint of wry smile, well. "So one as, while
one's jumping to the winds, one isn't also jumping from the cliff t'embrace
what isn't. The use in weighing the odds--tempers the lure of pure, raw
*risk* a bit. If'n nay entirely. And I'd have said you can't deny it
without getting *poked*." For his honesty, she spares him; isn't she kind?
"Well, I *might* be suggesting that whoever loses has t'dress as the
opposite gender and go bar-hopping with the winner, say, which would be
ill... oh, Junni, g'deve; a pleasure 'twas speaking with you, hey? Meeting
you, too. And m'regards t'your lifemate, fair winds, clear skies, and all
of that--bother. Missed."

Chayil casts a sympathetic gaze after Junni, nodding a little in
acknowledgement of her pain. After a respectful pause has passed, she turns
back around to resume her thoughts. "Then you're saying that imagination
will only supply, at best, impetus towards more immediate investigation? I
tentatively concur. Though my earlier training is based almost entirely on
thought, I've come to understand since arriving here that while action
without thought is often harmful or ineffectual, thought without action is
dead. The two may avoid one another, be sacrificed one another, for a time,
but eventually the avoidance must become attendance, the opposites become
allies, and the language, the lip service, must eventually become the kiss."

Livia rubs her fingers into her eyes then over her stubbly hair, rubbing it
for good measure. Finally, her fingers bridge together in front of her
mouth, a decided displeasure in her settling demeanor.

I'sai drinks more deeply once Junni has departed and then, with an air of
finality, sets the not-quite-emptied glass aside with a murmur of it being
ill indeed, particularly the next day. As for the rest, "Risk comes when it
does, pure or raw or just the sort to make you sick up, and rattles us all
like dice. Might as well choose what we can and hold to it, until the
decision comes 'round again. For imagination..." his glance drifts Livia's
way - imagining displeasure's cause? - and then into distance: "Imagination
can suffice where action is inappropriate; it can bear its own value, not
only in preparation for possibilities, but in assistance of self-control.
What one imagines, one need not necessarily put into practice. Then again,
there can be no thought without action, if only to eat and drink and void
one's waste - and sleep," and here he begins rather wryly to shrug his
jacket back on, "though some actions are infused with more thought, more
resonance, than others. And you must surely have learned by now that though
thought may not always become action directly, that does not mean that it
is not of value, and it can be a credit to think but not act, to feel but
not give in, to let allies share common ground as they can find it but not
indulge themselves in the consequences of a kiss."

I'sai adds matter-of-factly, "You'll note that M'rgan never really -did-
smack me upside the head."

"I do nay know whether 'twould concur, m'self, with that conclusion--that
thought without action is dead, I mean. One can turn one's mind within, and
consider--without doing--and perhaps learn better t'understand oneself; is
that without worth? It might guide you in some future time. Whether that
guiding be towards action or against it." Kassima tilts her head to
oneside. "Mind, that too probably depends upon the individual. I certes
wouldn't want t'act on all m'thoughts. But then," dryly, "I tend t'prefer
like minds t'opposites, and kiss sharding few of those with whom I speak. I
know, I know, that's carrying the metaphor too far; I beg pardon, as I've
nay interest in making light of anyone's personal philosophy." A pause. "Or
almost anyone's... nay yours, in any event. Is aught amiss?" she wonders of
Livia, noticing her displeasure. Then, "Well, I'sai has said all more
elegantly than I ever could... a'course he didn't, Is. His issues with you
never much involved your *head*. Has Taralyth convinced you t'be resting at
last?"

Livia leans back in her seat, tucking her hands behind her head as she
coaxes a smile back onto her face, with a slight shake of her head, "Long
day, is all. Everythings fine." She makes a good show of believing that
this is all true too. "About time for me to be turning in myself.."

Chayil's smile is infused with subtleties of surprise, pride, delight, and
a wicked appreciation of the bronzerider's graceful way out of what could
have become a sticky situation indeed. As she picks up his unfinished glass
of wine, the young rider lifts it in toast to the words of diplomatic
wisdom. "Let it be noted that restraint is its own form of action, often
requiring a stronger will, a clearer sense of purpose, and often, though by
no means always, a greater sense of...completion than that allowed to those
unsure enough to demand haste, lest the integrity of one's character and
purpose assert itself and call halt on the very precipice of the chasm
towards which one had rushed. Stronger yet is the action of restraint, and
made all the more necessary, the stronger the desire." So saying, the
redhead sips the last drops of wine from I'sai's discarded glass, setting
it down as she reaches her conclusion. "It's good to see that you're a man
of action, at least in speech, I'sai. Better, to know that you're a man of
restraint."

"Oh, I don't know about that," I'sai's not above teasing Kassima,
re-clasping his jacket's wherhide about him despite the lingering warmth of
the cavern - and, at the brownrider's comment, glancing briefly to where
Junni had gone and suggesting, "At least where Kena's concerned. And, aye,
he's having his winged way with me, and it's a fine, fine thing that
Balan's sweeps aren't till noon. - Visit Telgar again, Livia, do? If only
for when those eggs crack." And he listens to Chayil's speech in her
entirety but says only, half-smiling, "Just don't count on it, eh? ...Good
night, to you all; and my thanks for the hospitality."

Kassima's nod is sympathetic, without any suspicion. "Probably 'twill nay
be long t'follow, certes nay long once we're back at the Weyr--clear skies,
Livia; a pleasure 'twas t'be making your acquaintance. Hope tomorrow's
better for you, too." She rolls her eyes in good humor Is's way; "Well,
if'n Taralyth had ever caught Cymrith, then, *then* you might have
something t'fear... we should get back, too, Lyss and I. Even if'n I'm less
likely t'wake up with a hangover if'n I've any gauge." Chayil gets a brief
puzzled look; but she still offers, "And clear skies t'you, too, Chayil.
Duties t'Igen and her queens, and all that."

Livia nods her head, cheerful smile sitting there, like an annoyance to her
own face, "You both have a safe and good trip home. We'll surely be
visiting Telgar again, especially when the eggs hatch, as long as duty
allows. Looking forward to it, actually."

Chayil lifts a hand to wave the visitors off with the wind at their backs.
"A safe journey home," she offers back. "It was wonderful to see you both.
I'll look forward to it again."

You sense Chayil has offered much, but like the little girl she still is,
despite her bravado she hadn't been at all prepared to deliver. Just before
you've turned all the way around, your more experienced eye might detect a
tiny glimpse of gratitude beneath the superior "I know better" look she
gives I'sai.

I'sai confirms, smile for smile, "Wonderful. And as for the hatching, don't
denude us of too many of our marks, eh? Clear skies all 'round," and he
steps back to escort Kassi out, without a single mention of Cymrith.

Chayil waits with a smile for the Telgari to make it safely outside and to
their dragons. Then she turns around and walks slowly, now swiftly, now
running, towards her clutchmate, and buries her face in Livia's shoulder.

Kassima smiles faintly as she turns towards the door, though the impetus
may be hard to detect; the broader smile is all for Is. "A man of
priorities," she teases, and, "Clear skies, fair winds, everything," before
decorously allowing herself to be escorted.

I'sai walks out to the Bowl.

You walk out into the Bowl.

I'sai glances sideways as he walks. Keeps walking. Glances sideways again.

"I'd be cautious if'n you come back this way," Kassi murmurs to him once
safely out of earshot, "unless you want t'end up with another person
longing for you at Igen. Or was it just me who's thinking that?" It's late
enough that she wants to be sure about those sideways glances.

I'sai missteps. "The journal-or-scribblings-or-whatever-it-was, Kassi?"
quietly enough that not even the other dragons would hear, were they awake
enough to tip headknobs their way.

Kassima gives a fractional headshake, reaching automatically to steady him.
"Nay Junni," she says. "I don't think. Is the journal what 'twere looking
at me over?" Lysseth might be awake enough, but doesn't bother; it's not as
if she needs to.

"No, actually; it was what you'd said about the wing and - " I'sai scrubs
his hand across his face to blink at her once he's stabilized, "It's too
late for that, just now. Think you'll be seeing L'nan tomorrow?"

"And about how I'd stop?" Kassi finishes for him, flicking a quick smile.
"I didn't mean t'be bothering you by that... but aye, right. Later. When
you tell me about eggs, and answer what you want t'do, and all that good
stuff." She gives the question some consideration, but not much; she shakes
her head. "I don't imagine so. Why?"

"Well, when you don't mean to, that's when it shows up the most, eh? And
eggs, fine, but what I want to do... shards if I know, Kassi, shards if I
know, when I'm trying to make the most of what I've got." I'sai smiles at
her, tiredly, and steps to Taralyth's side. "And L'nan? Just curious. I -
yeah."

I'sai adds, "Happy long-belated Turnday, eh?" and after a moment's
rummaging in the folds of his jacket, tosses her - something, it's hard to
see at this time of night - lightly overhand.

I'sai gave you Music Scroll.

Kassima's voice holds regret: "Like with the teasing about twelve, I
suppose--" She flashes him a smile, too, though hers has worry in it as
well as affection. "Well. If'n you'd like t'talk about that, then; y'know
m'ear's always here for you. But I won't push if'n you don't. Nay about
that." Despite curiosity. She blinks once, slowly, and might have
commented, but then the toss--she catches automatically. She's good at
catching things from the air. "Shells, Is, y'didn't have t'be--"

---

A simple scroll with musical notations on it. You can 'play scroll' to have
a harper play the song on the scroll for the entire room.

The harper grins at Kassima as she requests the song about Kassima. Placing
his foot on an unused chair, he rests his gitar on his leg.
 "Now this song was written by Harper Alria, as a commission for Kassima's
birthday. It is titled 'Kassi the Mighty'." Grinning he strikes a jaunty
chord.
        Kassi the Mighty,
        Flies across the countryside.
          Never needs a place to hide.
           With Lysseth as her sidekick
            Chewin' on the firestone.
        When a tunnelsnake's around,
        She's the one to bring it down.
          She's Kassi, Kassi the mighty!

The harper smiles all around as he plays the simple singable melody. Heroic
and a little boastful as his fingers pick out the tune.
        Kassi the mighty
        Always keeps the men alert
          When she's feling proddy, and
           Lysseth's all a glowin'.
        When she's in this kind of mood
        She will throw her knives at you
          She's Kassi, Kassi the Mighty!

The harper sets his foot down, puffing out his skinny chest, trying to look
like a hero as he wanders through the room.
        Kassi the Mighty
        Has a lot of firelizards.
          Always has one by her side
           With a donzen others.
        When she's feeling sad and blue
        They will help to change her mood
          She's Kassi, Kassi the Mighty!

Nodding agreement to the words of the song the young man stops walking, and
looks around for Kassima, smiling widely as he sings the last verse.
        Kassi the Mighty
        Has a lot of children
          Because of Lysseth's mating flights
           It doesn't hurt that she
            Has a lovely hiney
        If she wears her buttless pants
        See if she will do a dance
          She's Kassi, Kassi the Mighty!

Barely able to control his laughter the harper finishes the song with a
little flourish and beats a hasty retreat.

---

"Yes, well; I'd just as soon _enjoy_ them - " and then Is quiets with just
a slantwise smile. "Straight from the harpers. Pardon her spelling; she has
more of a sense of... rhyme. Yes, that's the word. Rhyme."

"Enjoy what, the twelve? Or the things you have?" Kassi's a trace
distracted, and perhaps can be forgiven, unrolling that scroll and reading
it as she is. Her mouth moves, but she spares him actual song. There are a
couple of appreciative chortles, one wry smile--but then, see, then she
hits the end. And turns absolutely crimson. "And just *where*," she asks
slowly, caught between mortification and choking laughter, "did the bits
about m'rear end and the *pants* come from?"

"Both, both..." says I'sai not quite as absently, watching her reaction
with untoward glee; innocently, "And I haven't the faintest idea from
where. Perhaps the masterharper?" and tips her a wink before swinging up to
Taralyth's neck.

I'sai swings up to Taralyth's neck.

Kassima turns even *more* red as she retorts, "I don't think Jenufa's been
admiring m'hiney recently, thankee very much!" Oh, the mental image. Still,
she rolls the scroll with care before tucking it into a pouch, and suiting
up to follow; "Nay, I say that in seriousness too--thankee very much, Is.
Nay one's ever gotten me a song a'fore, and even if'n it does critique my
seat, I *am* pleased. But you're an evil, evil, *evil* man." Which is her
cue to mount likewise.

You place one hand on Lysseth's neck and she warbles down at you fondly.
You grin and scratch her eyeridges once before climbing up onto her lower
neckridges, using the riding straps and Lysseth's thoughtfully offered
foreleg.

<*> Taralyth whuffles briefly to the natives, noses in Lysseth's general
direction, and takes the opportunity to leap skyward before his poor drowsy
rider has a proper chance to finish strapping in. "Many thanks - and you
never kno.....w!"

<*> Taralyth tenses, then springs upwards.

<*> Lysseth spreads her wings to their full extent, bringing them down with
a rush of wind as she leaps nimbly into the air.

You spring into the air of the Bowl.

<*> Taralyth sweeps up - and disappears before they even reach the first
few levels of weyrs.

<*> Taralyth disappears into Between.

<*> Lysseth disappears into Between.