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Tongue-In-Ear Humor


Date:  September 22, 2002
Place:  Telgar Weyr Hot Springs
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:  There are times when even your dear friends can disturb
the daylights out of you.  Such as when they declare a desire to find
your tongue in their ear, for one.  And who would have thought that 
May of all people would have such a fetish?  All right, so she 
probably doesn't--but she almost succeeds in convincing Kassi that 
she does as the two old friends meet in the hot springs, to discuss
family and incest and fun stuff like that.

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The Log:

Tierth flies over the edges of rock and lands on the far end of the springs.

Kassima and Lysseth are in a less... charming repose; the green occupies
the largest spring, dark wings stretched out to support her in the water as
she drowses--drowses lightly, for she still manages a warning snort to
Tierth. Don't you dare get blood on *her*. She's quite clean. For once,
Kassi's not in the pool; she's seated on the rocks instead, a stylus tucked
behind her ear, a piece of hide in her lap, and her fingers drumming
fruitlessly. "Did you eat well?" she calls over to May and Tierth, taking
in the green's less-than-immaculate appearance with open amusement.

Tierth looks about ready to charge into the water with her riding gear
still buckled on, but May holds firmly and insists. "I'll clean it
properly, thanks." So, the dragon waits, wings held out in a 'eeeeew,
they're icky' pose - she's not thrilled with being all sticky, either. "She
ate fairly well, three large bucks. Would've had four, but don't want her
overladen for Fall tomorrow. How're you and Lysseth doing? Alright, Tierth
love - far end, soak where the water drains, huh?"

"Three? Shells, 'twill say that's well--hadn't eaten in a bit?" Kassi
hazards, green eyes wandering down to green belly as though expecting to
see a paunch. "I don't doubt 'twill be well, but if'n she happens t'feel
food-heavy on the morrow yet then don't hesitate t'tell me." It's almost
automatic, rote, and there's a touch of humor deep beneath it as ever when
she gives such advice to someone too experienced to need it. "Lyss is as
much the lazy lump as ever, as you can see. I wouldn't take her t'Boll, so
she coaxed me into spending the evening at the next best place--I've been
reading Da's latest letter while she soaks, and writing one back. So 'tis
well enough."

Maylia's spent sufficient time around boasting overenthusiastic weyrlings
to do a fair imitation, and the woman looks all bright-eyed bushytailed.
"Food-heavy? Don't be daft, my Tierth's the *best*! Nothing could stop her
from flying Fall!" The woman flops onto a bench, and unbuckles a kit-pouch
from the straps. "Seriously, though, she's been a little off on her eating
lately. Don't think there'll be a problem, but we'll see. Ah, writing your
folks?" May colours a trifle. "Feels like it's been turns since I did that.
How're folks back at Greystones?"

Kassima only slants her mentee a sardonic look, one brow arching up, up,
up--"Which one were you imitating there?" she wants to know. "A'tari?
Doriade? Shells, why do I ask? It could readily be any of 'em. Or any of
us." Laughing softly, she adjusts her place against a wall--far back from
the heat and damp of the spring. "Off on her eating. Is it around
flight-time for her? That could be the why of it. Oh, Faranth forfend I
shouldn't write; Da would come all the way up here t'be hiding me. This at
my age! He lets the children get away with it; just as well, Kay was never
much of a correspondant. Still isn't." She wrinkles her nose. "I'll nay
pass on t'him that you don't write either, though, or he might decide
t'lecture you along with me next time he has occasion. If'n your own don't
beat him to it. Well...." A soft sigh escapes from her, eyes sliding
briefly closed. "Da says that Grandsire Keyssin's taken ill again, and this
time 'tis nay looking very well. Grandmum Erythri's looking after him as
best she can. She's nay his wife, y'understand, she's m'*other* Grandmum,
but ever since Grandmum Ranna and Grandsire Simevran died they've watched
after each other--and Kyssia, m'cousin, she comes down t'look after him
whenever she can get a ride. Other than that--Alynessa's found a man, and
they'll handfast this spring, most likely. Nialeik *may* have gotten a
young Hold-lass in trouble; Faranth help him if'n that's true, his father
will kill him. And there's a bit of gossip about this cousin and that."

Maylia responds with a snort, "Doriade, shells, that girl. Actually, any of
the several hundred overeager youngsters. Tierth's fine, might be nearing
flight-time, but we've just been pushing hard. Shouldn't have missed that
clump last fall, whirlwind or no, and we won't next time." She then listens
to the Greystones Chronicles while retrieving an old rag and some cleaning
oil from the small pack, and begins taking care of the bloody smears on
Tierth's gear. "Well, I can at least keep up to date with Shasta and Marila
through dragon-chat," she notes, nodding to where Tierth soaks, a pinkish
hint around her front end.

"--Oh, and Salassin and Lirakia finally had a son, how could I be
forgetting that? They've named him Sallirak, poor lad. Sythriva's evidently
*already* teasing Sal by calling the boy 'Salli,' and if'n she doesn't
watch it she'll end up with a black eye." Kassi shakes her head slightly to
pull herself away from the antics of her family. "The amazing thing t'me is
that Kijhith tolerates all her bubbling. Never seen a more sour green
otherwise. Nay, you shouldn't have," she agrees, all Wingleader for a
moment, "but you didn't get yourselves injured chasing after it either, and
someone must've caught it since nay burrows were reported. It could have
been worse. Don't push so hard that you endanger Tierth's health, and
*that's* an order, though likely one you don't need. Shasta--she's the one
with that charming brown, isn't she? The one who's chased Lyss a time or two?"

Maylia echoes, and interjects, "Sallirak? Poor kid..." An extra-hard rub is
given to the leather. "Nope, didn't chase it. Would've been fools to, and
would've deserved whatever blast you directed our way if we had. But we
know enough to have caught it, and if we'd not been sitting on our tails,
proverbial in my case, confident in turns of - " Kassi's stern order stops
the grumbling, and May gives a curt nod. "We'll be careful. Don't want to
drill so hard she's off her mark and gets injured from it. Yes, you're
quite right, she's Muinyth's rider. Seemed for a while there that all she
had to do was set foot at Telgar and Lysseth'd start blooding. Marila's a
greenrider down there, too, Impressed some turns back. Hear tell Makear's
cothold is running well, by the way, and another youngling on the way.
She's taking after our mother in that respect, either that or trying to
populate our family to compete with yours, all by herself."

Kassima nods rueful agreement, but points out, "Nay that that's bad for
*my* family, particularly that side; 'twas a cousin of Salassin's who named
a son Karxarylnim, after all, who by the way I hear's doing very well in
Vintner." As if May would know the kid. It's evidently dangerous to ask
Kassi about family news. "That's as may be. I'm glad you recognize it, glad
you're working t'correct it, but don't overdo it; if Tierth seems too
off-cycle, I'll take her out of Fall 'til she gets back t'rights. We're in
good strength now, and I'll nay have her at risk." Her tone lightens as she
gives an almost-silent laugh. "Near abouts. Don't invite her back *too*
soon, hey? Lyss might repeat the usual routine, she's near enough her
time... Marila's another sister? You've a sharding lot of those," the
greenrider observes. She tilts her stylus to rub briefly at her temple with
its blunter end. "Faranth forfend that last! She'd have t'have dozens, if'n
you mean t'include the folk back home! But I remember Makear from
Candidacy; will you pass on m'congratulations to her?"

Maylia begins to try to parrot back the vintner-craft lad's name, but only
makes it as far as 'Karx', and covers the garbled remainder by clearing her
throat. "She'll be fine. Might just be her time, anyways, we'll see." Even
though she's not still wet behind the ears, May's still reluctant to be
removed from Fall, though she'd likely not risk Tierth. "Lots of brothers,
too. I guess Ma started the population boom, and maybe Makear's trying to
compensate for three of us producing just two kids between us. Hey, watch
it, get the stylus backwards and you'll have black ink all over yourself,"
is warned with a grin. "Or scratch yourself, and write the next line in
blood. I'll pass it on - you know, your folks might even want to talk to
her, try a foster-swap?"

"Shall I begin a wager-pool on when and whom, for her next?" Kassi inquires
slyly, green eyes all agleam. "Solarith's always a favorite, a'course, but
I've *heard* Miryenne claim that Guarith's enamored of Tierth--nay that I
believe it, by the by. Guarith's never been enamored of aught in his life.
Probably Miryenne just wants a chance with you." It'd be like the randy
bluerider. "*That's* like m'family too; those that have any children at all
tended t'have many, though the youngest generation swears there's nay room
left on the holding for broods of seven each! Mum keeps wanting at least
one more out of me, y'know. Have t'break it anew on every visit that I'm
nay obliging her yet. May, May, would I do that?" Not that this stops her
from bringing the stylus down, but she's far more amused than worried.
"Writing in blood isn't suited for familial letters, though, I'm granting.
M'family's nay much into foster-swapping, really; the core of the kin stays
on the Holding or goes into a Craft straight away. Bloody large number of
Crafters in our ranks. A few do go t'families nay in Da's lands
proper--Thera's branch has fostered a few--but outside of Greystones...
well, but I might suggest it. Y'never know when you'll get one who wants
t'get away from home but hasn't chosen a Craft yet."

Maylia frowns momentarily, and advises, "Bet against Solarith, you'll win
big." Couples have their ups and downs, and maybe things are on the
downswing in the 'happy couples' weyr. "Guarith's not a bad looking blue,
and agile, you never know. Your mother sounds like mine - when'll there be
a little brother for Tasayli? She'll be soooo lonely! - like any youngster
here could be lonely, and like she doesn't have a clutch of cousins. Well,
let'em know there's the opportunity. Nice farming cothold, close to Fort,
good Harpers and Healers and all. Even got relatives around Keroon, though
I'd not recommend fosterage there. Tried it. Hated it. Anyways, anyone
thinking of Healering or Harpering, or farming or herding, it's a
possibility. The first two, get'em closer to the Halls, let'em see what
they're like before diving in. Second two, first-hand experience." So nice
of her to offer her twin's hospitality - let's hope it's been discussed
between them already.

Kassima echoes that frown, though hers is more one of concern. Still: "I'll
keep it in mind." Concern rarely, after all, gets in the way of a profit.
"Guarith's caught so many greens that 'tis a miracle Miryenne's
childless--or would be if'n I didn't know full well she jumps *between*
every time she ends up with a man. Nay t'mention grousing about it for the
next month. You'd think a man touching her was some sort of personal
affront. Have you tried pointing out that Tasayli *has* a brother, after a
fashion?" Though one brow waggles briefly, and she grins, she also appends,
"Nay that I'm thinking *that* would likely work. I'll pass along the word,
though I can't promise aught. We're a homey lot... what was so awful about
Keroon?"

Maylia finishes with cleaning the bloodied straps, and sets about
inspecting them - might's well while she's got them in hand, and with time.
Plus, it gives her an excuse to not see that frown. "I'm surprised she
doesn't whisk Guarith out of the weyr every time a green looking to a man
starts blooding, like hold-reared weyrlings tend to when one of their own
sex might wind up in bed with them. And a brother not borne by me doesn't
count, far as Ma's concerned, even though Tavauri's visited the cothold
with Tasa often enough to distress my parents with how much they fight.
Shells, Kassi, I'm thinking of sending Tasa to Southern, just so the pair
of'em can be without black eyes for a few sevendays at a time. And no
worries if fostering doesn't work out, just thought I'd mention it." She
rolls her eyes. "Cousins. Sharding too many of'em, with sick ideas of
joking, and my uncle's got his own ideas of how to behave. Nevermind that I
didn't want to be a herder."

"She always hopes for him t'be losing so that she can coax some new woman
off t'her bed with the excuse of being flight-lost," Kassima explains, eyes
rolling up towards the sky. "Or so she's explained it t'me. Tried it on
Amelyssan a few flights back--tries it on her periodically, actually, only
*that* time she ended up with a blacked eye for her trouble. I gave
Amelyssan dawn sweeps, but only for a couple of days; frankly, I'd have
blacked Miryenne's eye too if'n that's what it took t'get her t'stop trying
t'stick her tongue in m'ear." Shudder. Kassi's shoulders shake visibly. "I
shouldn't be surprised by that; m'parents know about the slews of half-sibs
m'children have, but a'fore Kris Mum at least was still all about giving
Kay and Khari more. And brothers t'boot. Now at least she seems t'realize
*that's* an invalid argument. Is Tasa a tomboy, t'be using her fists, or
does Tavauri just annoy her *that* much?" Teasing: "Mayhaps *she* should be
sent t'my family for fostering. They'd teach her t'use a knife instead. I'm
almost afraid t'ask what jokes they pulled on you."

Maylia gives a second yank at a certain stretch, peering closely at the
stitching, perhaps to hide her own shudder. "Some people, can handle their
tongue in my ear. Miryenne? She's not one of'em. I think I'd punch her too,
but might aim for her chest. Hurts as much, doesn't leave visible bruises,
really puts a damper on anything else happening. Now, TAsa with your
family, might just be an idea. Knives are so much more appropriate than
fists. And if you must know, most of the jokes wound up with me in in the
beast's leaving-pile. But I got my own back, with a 'pie' under the pillow."

Kassima mutters, making a face, "I don't think I could handle *anyone's*
tongue in m'ear. It just does nay sound appealing. I'm trying t'decide
whether t'ask just whose tongue you *can* handle, and why." Too much info,
or do inquiring minds really want to know? "Her chest--oh, May, you *are*
cruel. I approve. So long as you'd leave her able t'heft firestone sacks,
a'course. Won't see me arguing about the knives, though I've been thinking
of asking m'cousins t'teach me more fist-fighting, for next time Yash wants
t'be sparring. Oh," she says, enlightened. "*Oh*. Yuck, that's revolting.
Is that *common* Keroonian hospitality? I've never spent much time there,
and now I'm thinking I'm glad."

"The list is growing smaller by the day," Maylia answers darkly, but then
flashes a too-bright smile. "Aurian's. And just one side of her chest, so
she could haul'em to the other side." The motion is demonstrated, as she
hauls leather, to give her another stretch to analyze. "Believe me, you
should be glad. Nothing but herdbeasts, hillside to hillside - worse than
the ovine herding regions of the mountains - and believe me, they generate
mountains of waste. One of which I wound up *in*, as a greeting. Not my
favourite memory. Tell me, what's the worst prank anyone's ever played on
you?"

"Do I guess aright that things are nay completely well in your weyr?" Kassi
finally asks, cocking a brow at the other greenrider. "And does Aurian
stick her tongue down your ear *often*? Mayhaps I should start putting
marks on Kvasith--as a *greeting*. Shells and shards above, but there's
something lacking about that form of salutation." Her nostrils flare a
moment before her nose wrinkles; her imagination is doubtless capable of
providing the appropriate smell. "Worst prank. I'd have t'be saying when
Cav tricked me into drinking the Water--nay that I regret the result for a
moment, and had you heard that she's Acting Wingleader over at Ista now?
But honestly, a cruel thing 'twas t'do t'my proddy, paranoid self, and he's
lucky 'twas too busy panicking t'throttle him. You? Was it the dung?"

Maylia fixes a smile, and confirms, "Not completely would be one way of
putting it." But she shrugs it off - they've had their fights before. "And
not often enough, mentor-mine. She's better at it than Tas - but then, you
would be too." This might be a compliment. Or it might not. "She is? Well,
I'd say that Cav did you a favour by getting you to drink the Water. And
yes, I'd say it was the mountain of dung, but I got revenge at least. Not
that Healer apprentices aren't talented in their pranks against newcommers
- usually in the form of fooling them into thinking they're on bedpan duty
for the tenth day in a row - nor candidates and weyrlings against each
other. But my cousins take home the goose as a prize in the disgusting
prank category."

Kassima flutters her lashes at May. "Mayhaps you should bring a slew of
Gather-garbed women t'bed again, and see if'n the fight doesn't dissolve in
the chaos. Nay seriously, a'course, though Tas might appreciate that--" Oh,
dear. Watch Kassi choke. Sputter. Sputter. Gibber. She gets control of
herself in fairly short order, but my, didn't her eyes pop out for a
moment? "*Me*? Shells and shards, May, I've never put m'tongue in anyone's
ear in m'life; I'm sure I'd be terrible at it." But practice might make
perfect? Scary idea. "She is," the greenrider affirms with considerable
pride. "While Tella's away on family business, methinks 'twas, Kay's
leading Timor. I *hear* that she's doing well--nay from her, mind. She
never writes. Too busy being silly and in love with that Weyrleader, I
suppose. And I'd agree, at least with regards t'Candidates and Weyrlings;
they'd scarcely want t'dump one of their own in a muck pit. Nay while
everyone's still in the Barracks. *They'd* have t'smell it too."

Maylia offers, "We can give the gather-robed visitors a try," with a
flutter of her own eyelashes, "And you can get plenty of experience with
tongues and ears." She's not one to let her mentor in evilness by without
at least an attempt at worsening that spluttering. But she breaks off of
that line of teasing, to agree, "Well, younglings silly and in love with
weyrleaders have much on their minds. Mothers undoubtebly come last. You
could try taking after your own family, though, and guilting and bullying
her into it? Have Lysseth plague her Pheirth?" She flashes a grin, not even
trying to hide her own glee at what she inflicted on her weyrlings. "Why
would they need to dunk each other in muck pits? I did it often enough,
they had to come up with something more original."

"I'd sooner be on the receiving end, though, t'learn about 'em," Kassi
tries to riposte, but it just doesn't work well; she's too clearly
suppressing more of those splutters to sound sincere. One has to give her
credit for trying, though! "I could, but I don't think I want t'be turning
into m'mother any time soon--as t'Lysseth and Pheirth, I'm nigh afraid of
that. I had this horrible nightmare once that he took it into his mind
t'chase her; can you imagine? I'd be just as happy if'n they didn't grow
fond of each other, if'n you get m'meaning." Gah. One would imagine. "May,
you were such a bloody sadist! But 'twas a sadism that worked. I *do* hope,
for the sake of us poor mentors--if'n I get t'mentor, this time--that Ursa
comes up with a less odiferous punishment. Naught like trying t'have a
dignified, meaningful conversation with your mentee while you're holding
your nose."

Maylia offers sweetly, "Well, no reason to wait until we can get into my
weyr all dressed up, I could demonstrate ear-tongue technique right here,
even -- oh, shells. Tierth must be getting close." Sure. Likely excuse.
"Shards, Pheirth chase Lyss? That's scary. But then, Muinyth's chased -
even almost caught - Marila's green. I'm quite glad it's only been close."
She pshaws, moving further along her leatherwork. "Not that many ways to
punish weyrlings. Mucking. Cold nights on the star stones. Polishing rocks,
digging holes. Pushups." She refuses to admit that there're more creative
ways to punish weyrlings.

Kassima eyes May sidelong. The worry in her eyes now isn't quite the same
thing as the concern that was there earlier. "And here I thought you
normally disliked me when Tierth gets close," she mutters. "D'you usually
put your tongue in the ears of people you don't like? And, ah, with nay
offense in the world meant, methinks I'd have t'be at least somewhat drunk
a'fore I'd let *anyone* put a tongue in mine." That at least is probably
true. "Sister and sister would be terrible, if'n nay quite as nightmarish
as mother and daughter. At least they couldn't spawn from it, but I doubt
that'd be much consolation--oh, pshhh. There are other ways than that! You
could always do to a Weyrlign what Kiat did t'H'tor--y'know, make 'em do
servant duty for someone they don't like for a few sevendays. Though
'twould have t'be a sharding bad offence."

Maylia halts her inspection of the straps, and agrees. "Either this time's
odd, or you've got a point, and something else is going on. Anyways. You're
quite right - sister and brother, Faranth don't let Tasa and Tavauri
impress, at least not compatible colours, would be horrid. Father and
daughter, or mother and son, as nightmarish. They could procreate!" She's
unkeen, usually, on the term 'spawn', not being a fish and all. She
considers for a moment, then adds, "The dancing idea was a good one, too,
for when weyrlings don't get along. So's tying them together. So apart from
knives, what would you do with weyrlings who just couldn't get along?"

"Are you drunk?" This, evidently, might explain things to Kassi's mind. "As
I recall, you usually dance on bars when drunk, but with nay bar near
t'hand--oh, dear Faranth, what a thought. Thankee, May; I'll have
nightmares of m'sons Impressing males now." She doesn't seem to be entirely
kidding, either. "I like the tying together," she decides. "Or make 'em
spend the night alone in some empty, cold weyr--if'n naught else, they'd
have t'cooperate a bit t'be warm, though nay *too* much or their dragons
would tattle."

A gold firelizard - May's Shya - appears with much chittering and anxious
swooping. Moments later a blue appears, and then one of the weyr's nannies
comes trotting down the corridor into the steam-filled chamber.
"Greenrider, so sorry - Tasa's, well, Tavauri's given her a good black eye,
but she's, well, she's bitten him bad, on the nose of all things! He's tied
down, and she says she'll kick him in the groin if - well, come and see."
The nanny pales, catching the sons impressing males comment. May groans -
this isn't the first time, and rises. "'Scuse me, mentor mine. Cheriandri,
please tell me that his nose is still intact, where it belongs on his
face?" With that, the greenrider follows the nanny, to deal with the
half-sibs.