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Trading Spaces


Date:  September 4, 2003
Place:  Telgar Weyr Skyspace; Naelanth's Ledge; Naelanth's Weyr
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:  No actual trading of spaces takes place in this log,
but it was hard not to be reminded of the design show by the RP. ;)
Javi has expressed an interest in getting advice from Kassi on how
to decorate her weyr, and when she has the time free, the greenrider
stops by the brownrider's place to take a look around.  Many ideas
are discussed--and much gossip is, too.  There's also a conversation
between Naelanth and Lysseth that I'sai in particular might be 
interested in. ;)

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The Log:

You spring from Lysseth's ledge with one downsweep of your wings, soaring
into the sky above the Northern Bowl.

<*> Lysseth leaps nimbly from her ledge, the sun glinting off fresh-oiled
green hide and darker, shadow-edged sails. It's not truly necessary on this
short jaunt, but she indulges in a wing-stretching circle through the air
anyway before arrowing in on her target.

You land on Naelanth's Ledge.


Naelanth's Ledge(#9778RJs)
This ledge juts out from the caldera wall like a slightly swollen bottom
lip, worn and bruised by Turns of use and wanton winters. Claw marks gouge
and lacerate the edges of the stone shelf from countless launches and
landings, and from lazy draconic days spent sharpening and curling claws at
ledge's edge in almost feline lassitude. The shelf itself is kept
fastidiously clean of debris, weather, and rocks, and a curtain of heavy
fabric, muted to a moss-colored green by sun and age, separates the ledge
from the inner weyr -- and the elements, though the more chilling winter
winds must whistle through the weyr, curtain or no. One side of the ledge
looks particularly well-worn, sloped, as if it might catch a favored spot
of light during a certain time of day. Below, the living cavern's entrance
is clearly visible while off across the far end of the hourglass-shaped
bowl the lake's reflection offers a distant, and more pleasant, view.
Behind that, snow-capped peaks loom large.
The night is partly cloudy, though when the clouds clear briefly you can
see the stars. The smaller Belior shines in half moon while Timor sleeps in
darkness. There seems to be a light breeze and the winter air is freezing
against you. 
Contents:
Naelanth
Obvious exits:
Inner Weyr  


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.

Kassima adjusts the red-trimmed black cloak she wears after she's hit terra
firma, and casts a droll look out towards the sky as the wind dies: "Oh,
sure, you wait until we've already *landed* t'do that. Bloody evil weather.
I should probably shake m'fist at you or something." She foregoes the
gesture, though, in favor of asking the resident brown, "G'day,
Naelanth--is it all right if'n I go on in?" Lysseth offers a rumble as her
own salutation, furling her wings in and curling her tail around her
haunches neatly as a seated cat might.

Naelanth lies downslope, chin having lifted from its perch half over
ledge's edge, to watch the green's descent with mild interest. His snort is
a more audible greeting, blowing warm breath white up into the air. He dips
his head, scratching his chin slow along the rougher edge of rock, as if
considering, before he tosses his head, dipping it low again in a deeper nod.

Kassima nods, too, a pleased acknowledgment of the brown's gesture;
"Thankee, Naelanth," she says, and then--why not?--executes a brief bow to
him before heading on inside. Lysseth would roll her eyes if she could. As
it is, her low snort will have to suffice: riders!


Naelanth's Weyr(#9029RJs)
The only spot of color in this weyr is the heavy green curtain that offers
a modicum of privacy to the pair that shelters here. Where outside, the
curtain is washed to a muted moss by the light of day, inside, it's a rich,
if well-patched, shade of pine. There's also a couch large enough to hold a
brown or a small bronze, the indentation subtle like the slightly cupped
palm of a hand. Meticulously kept and oiled straps are hung on a nearby set
of pegs, as well as two jumbled black and white weyrling knots: wingsecond
and wingleader. Little else distinguishes this weyr, except for a well-used
and nicked press and an ornate wooden chest that resides near a bed covered
in furs; that chest is the finest piece of furniture in the cavern -- a
makeshift table and desk in one. Nothing else clutters the cavern: no
chairs, no table, nothing to welcome a visitor with, and there are even
fewer personal effects. The only objects that can be spied lie atop the
chest: a scrap of wherhide and the green-tinged rock that weights it down.
The glows in the cavern pick out veins of silver in the rather
plain-looking rock, and the scrap of hide bears a list of names, checked
off in charcoal, wing names jotted in beside them.
:*: +lhelp and +weather are available here. :*:
Contents:
Javinia
Javinia's Gift Chest
Obvious exits:
Outer Ledge  


Dragon> Lysseth senses that Naelanth's touch is a fluid greeting,
translucent waters of blue and gray, then, << Yours has 'manners', >> he
states, as if the word were foreign to him, taken from the mind of his
rider. He acommpanies this with an image of that bow reflected back against
a churning of subdued color. << Mine would like that. >>

Javinia stands on her bed, bare feet protected from the winter's cold by
thickly woven wool socks. She's straining up against the cavern wall, boot
in hand, trying to reach a big fat spinner. Her nose is all wrinkled up,
and she's saying, "Feh. Stupid spinn--" before she stops herself, looking
around. "Oh, Kassi! Heyla!"

Lysseth> Naelanth senses that Lysseth's crystal spires are clear-lit in
paler versions of the usual sapphire-dark emerald-amethyst, having
inherited some of the crispness of the winter morning without taking on the
actual chill. << Manners is one word for it, >> she settles for agreeing.
Sort of. There's amusement sparkling off a spire-tip or two. << But I will
tell her you said so; I am sure she would appreciate the sentiment, from
you and your rider both. >>

Kassima pushes back the hood of her cloak as she takes in this tableu.
"Eww," she comments with a nose-crinkle, eyeing the spinner. "That's the
biggest one I've seen in awhile--need a hand? I'm sure one of the Swarm
would be glad t'take care of him for you." Quixote perks up on her right
shoulder at this. Breakfast! "I'm nay intruding, am I? Thought that with
the afternoon drills today, it might be a good time t'stop in and take a
look about, if'n you were still wanting decorating advice--" Her eyes
survey the space, and the wry amusement in them probably says what she
won't, aloud: that she can understand the problem.

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Naelanth's practical turn of mind persues a
more literal translation. << And the other word for it? >> What interest he
shows sparks in the brief silver flashs at the edges of his mindvoice, like
schools of minnows darting beneath the surface of shallower waters.

Having turned back to eye the spinner on the wall above her bed with a
suitably baleful look, Javinia blinks 'round again, and she brightens even
further, dropping her boot on the instant and taking large steps right off
the edge of the bed to thump stocking feet softly against stone floor.
"Absolutely! -- For both. Please. -Please- let one of them take my spinner,
and with much much joy of it." Shoulders shiver with emphasis. "And you're
always welcome. I never mind company. Better yet, I -asked- for advice."
Her gaze follows her wingleader's rather sheepishly about her weyr. "You
see, don't you?"

Lysseth> Naelanth senses that Lysseth might have given her rider a break by
being diplomatic before, but when asked she readily provides the answer. 
<< Silliness, in this case. Politeness is well and good, but the bowing is a
bit much. Usually she knows better-- >> There's a vague, flickering glimpse
of a hazy memory, rider-memory from a dragon's perspective: a stripling
Weyrling girl of perhaps sixteen, seventeen years, in a violet-trimmed blue
dress and with her waist-length hair loose and strewn with flowers, bowing
to likely-bemused dragons. More pragmatically, << Besides, she is my rider.
There is no need for her to bow to anyone. >> It isn't arrogance that
colors the sending. It's said only with complete confidence in her beloved
one's worth, and her own.

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Naelanth cocks his muzzle, head knobs pressing
forward, as if listening more attentively, though there's a certain
lassitude to his larger bulk, so at home here on his own rocky perch. What
a dragon like this brown might consider his -- and his own's -- due, here
on the ledge that is theirs, he now reconsiders. << Silliness. >> The low
rumble of far away rapids sounds his amusement and appreciation for the
green's perspective, noting, << You are right. Taralyth's would not have
bowed. And you and yours lead us in the now as he and his led us before the
now. >>

Kassima ducks her head to hide a grin at Javi's apparent enthusiasm for
this idea, and then tilts it to one side to give Quixote more launching
room--which is all the invitation the little aqua blue needs. With a
delighted chirp, he's awing, the better to dart straight for the spinner
and snatch it up in lightning-quick claws. He finds himself a convenient
place to perch while happily munching on his prize. "That being one of the
reasons I find fire-lizards useful," quips Kassi, watching the spectacle
with laughing eyes. "I haven't had an insect problem in decades. 'Tisn't in
such bad shape," she says of the weyr, going for tactful. "But you do look
t'be needing some furniture and decoration a'fore 'twill look very homey.
Right now 'tis mostly *functional*, but...." The weighted wherhide does get
a curious look, and she steps over almost without thinking to get a closer
look.

Lysseth> Naelanth senses that Lysseth allows in a gleam of blue from
slow-spinning eyes, tranquil and self-possessed if not so immediately
comfortable, << It is *less* silly on a dragon's own ledge than out in
public, >> and an amused thought running beneath crystal like a river
suggests that she might have to consider encouraging bowing the next time
L'cher and Leerth, say, visit her ledge to discuss business, << but all the
same... yes. >> After a pause, she sends an addition: << My own finds the
idea of Taralyth's bowing to anyone highly entertaining. >>

Javinia watches the blue launch after the spinner with a look a pure
satisfaction. "True. I'd never thought to have one, myself," she says
turning back, "much less a substantially larger version." Here, a dimple
shows, mouth curving up into the sofest of smiles at thought of her
lifemate. "Course, I might have both soon. I've been promised an egg, but I
haven't said whether I'd take it or not. I suppose I will. My only concern
was Naelanth, and ... " Trailing off, she nods, glancing about the cavern
again. "Exactly. It's just so ... bah." Kassima's new line of silent
inquiry has her stepping behind the greenrider, trying to peek over her
shoulder. "Oh. That's my list. When we graduated, I rather thought I'd keep
a list." Among the weyrling names, their wing names, there's one name
without anything beside it but an 'X', a date, and a brief note: 'Scored in
Fall'.

"'Twas mad t'have one nigh as soon as I'd left the Hold. Mum's afraid of
'em," Kassi explains absently, gaze still running down the list. "I'd...
seven, methinks 'twas, by the time I Impressed Lysseth, just going t'show
that I'm a bloody idiot. Would Naelanth be jealous? Who's offered an egg?"
One hand reaches as though to touch that different name, but stops just
short. She straightens at last. "Nay a bad notion. Better than losing track
of 'em; or forgetting, worse--that boulder out by the Lake, the one with
carvings? That's K'nan's version of a list like this, after a fashion. He
carved the name of his clutchmates and others on a boulder back at Benden.
I'm nay sure whether he brought it over here or started a new one... I have
one too, but 'tis in m'weyr instead. Extra seating." There's a beat-long
pause. With wry humor, "Nay certain I'd suggest *that* as a decorating tip,
mind you. D'you know what sort of look you'd like t'have? What sort of
decoration, what all furniture? Did you bring up aught from your Holding?"

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Naelanth's mist-like thoughts reflect that
crystal blue, his own dry mirth a quieter rush of white water over a rocky
riverbed for thought of Leerth and the dragon's own. The quicker pace of
his thoughts slows, then, weighing down to a trickle of begrudging
agreement. No, << Taralyth's would not bow. >> But with some satisfaction,
he adds, << Though he will stay his distance. >> Here, a half-remembered
image, dissolving at the edges, and plucked straight from his rider's mind,
shows a large meadow of long grass gone to seed with Taralyth, his rider,
and his own. Taralyth's stands beyond range and reach in the image, as if
having stopped, and stayed, there.

Lysseth> Naelanth senses that Lysseth always has a river running beneath
the spire-forest, red as blood with a thread of golden fire smoldering at
its heart--so it is no difficulty for her to draw upon water imagery,
though the waters that bubble suddenly through crystal are a clean
silver-blue and merry rather than irritated at their disagreement. 
<< Taralyth's is a favorite of mine, >> if not so much as the bronze 
dragon himself; with rider, the fondness extends only far enough to allow 
for mussing of hair and the oh-so-gracious acceptance of muzzle-rubs. << But 
it is wise of him to keep distant if you would rather have him so. >>

Still gazing over Kassima's shoulder, Javinia hesitates before answering,
"Well, that was the problem, but then when everything happened with Ys and
K'ran, and Dianneth was so upset ... Oh, in truth, he's mellowed --
somewhat. It'd be from Naught's clutch, but I think he's as likely to
forget as to remember," she admits, before her mouth tightens up to see
that reach of hand. M'gul scored while she wore the weyrling wingleader
knot that hangs on the peg near her brown's couch. What more motive could
there be to remember? "Right," she answers, voice gone softer. "Better than
losing track, than forgetting." But interest makes her buoyant again. "So,
that boulder's -K'nan's- doing. I never knew. I'd been wondering about that
for -ages-. -- Oh, I don't know. Something -warmer-. Homier. But, well,
good quality? I'm not terribly flashy, and I prefer more muted colors, but
... It's just so bare." How quickly mood changes. "Actually, I haven't been
home yet." This is almost a mumbled confession.

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Naelanth focuses more intently on that river of
blood and fire, his own a dousing flow, obfuscated by the birth of mist
where fire and water meet. Beyond that, rock and stone, boulders to limit
the growth of forest greens. It is an interesting contrast to him. After a
lingering silence, he says, << Then I will say no more, >> -- given this
new information. Perhaps he has -some- manners, culled and cultivated by
his rider, if not by nature.

Kassima murmurs, "I still don't know the complete story behind that
mess...." There's a quick, questioning glance sidelong, likely enough to
make it plain if caught that she'd like to rectify the situation. "Which
t'forget, Naelanth or I'sai? I don't know whether I'sai would. I'm due an
egg from Naught's next likewise, after I gave him one of Zabreneva's, but I
haven't decided what t'do with it. There'd be a certain poetry in giving it
to Kisai, but she already has Random. Kim and Ky are keen on getting
'lizards, but I can't give one to *one* and nay the other, so... I can
recite the names of every rider I've ever lost." She's dropped into the
same soft tone, and seems unaware of the abruptness of the subject change.
"I think of it sometimes as the last thing we can do for 'em. Remember.
--Aye," she agrees, more cheerful, "'tis K'nan's work, and you might ask
him about it sometime, if'n you see him. Hmm. You could certes be using a
table and chairs, and mayhaps a desk, and I'd think some shelves. There are
things in Stores for the taking, but much of it's plain--the good stuff
gotten from emptied weyrs tends t'be snatched up fast." Which is said
matter-of-factly, but a touch quieter out of respect for even such a light
reference to dead riders. "Since you've more money than most if'n memory
serves you could actually commission a piece or two from the Woodcrafters
t'be suiting you. Mayhaps something padded in russet, for sitting? I could
picture you with russet. Russets and golds and deep browns; mayhaps bits of
red, dark red, if'n you favor warm colors. Or was that nay what you meant
by warm? I'm more partial to the blues and greens and purples m'self, but
they're colder. Tapestries might help, or paintings, or a rug if'n you like
rugs; or would you rather different sorts of decoration? You could be
hanging knickknacks on the walls. I've a tunnelsnake head and Emasculator
up on mine. If'n naught else, 'tis a conversation piece." No kidding. The
last gets another sidelong look from Kassi, this one surprised. "Afraid
t'face Frenese?" she teases, purposefully making the query light.

Lysseth> Naelanth senses that Lysseth's darker river cannot be doused,
however, no matter how much mist may rise; it's as well that it's for the
moment quiescent, not raging as it does when her temper flares--or when a
green glow clings to supple hide. The crystal and the light and lightning
at its heart remain foremost in her, fantastic and glittering and none too
realistic compared to the brown's natural sending and earthy pragmatism. 
<< As you wish, >> she concedes in a blue flicker. << There is no 
offense. >>

"Ys and K'ran? Well, it's no secret, though it's rather involved. I suppose
I could tell you, shorten it instead of making it into some harper's
ballad. -- Oh, Is. True. That -would- be poetic." But then a silence, and a
somewhat grateful, acknowledging dip of her head, hazel eyes green in the
dimmer glowlight. "You always understand." ... More brightly, "I will. I've
only met him a handful of times, though. It'd be a good way to strike up a
conversation should I need to. -- Russet? Truly? I hadn't thought of those
colors." The corners of Javi's mouth giving a wry quirk, she admits, "I
simply meant anything that might warm up the cavern itself. I'm still not
used to these winters, you know. As for myself, I tend toward greens, and,
yes, I know I know, rose colors." She doesn't say pink -- no. "Light
yellows. Lavenders. But maybe I should think differently." Hazel gaze
lifting to the greenrider, she asks, "What do you think? -- Right. I
certainly could commission something, I suppose, though ... ," and here
home comes into question. "No, it's not that, though she still can't
forgive me for Impressing brown rather than green, but ... they've little
use for me. Calder's got his new son, and Frenese is so busy with him that
... Well. Er, tunnelsnake head? And an Emasculator?"

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Naelanth's river of thought is not meant to
douse the green's own -- not -hers- -- as elemental and fantastic as it is;
his is only less easily stirred to rage or the greater whitewater of chase,
doused of more primal emotions, except for his own. There, the waters come
to life. His touch is the briefest acknowledgment. << My thanks. >>

"Ys and K'ran," Kassi confirms, nodding once. "I know some of it--but there
was something about them breaking it off, and he's moving in with Tarien,
isn't he? Nay surprise all the same when Indrath caught; I imagine 'twas a
relief t'her in a fashion that 'twasn't a stranger or aught. Still foggy on
the details, though, so I'd welcome a clear account." Without chairs, she
helps herself to a section of wall to lean against, if not without a
querying look to make sure this is all right. "There are some things all
Wingleaders understand," she agrees, with a slight tug at a corner of her
mouth that isn't quite smile or frown. "He's a good man, K'nan. My mentor,
back when 'twas a Weyrling. Russet can make things *appear* warmer--sort of
a psychological warmth; for real warmth, I'd go back t'rugs, and mayhaps
tapestries t'ward off chill from the walls. And a brazier. 'Tis from the
Smiths you could likely get one of those. Or a full furnace if'n you want
t'go all out, but that isn't cheap and takes a time t'make from what I know
of it, so personally I'd probably stick with a brazier. Pastels...." She
rubs her chin. "'Twould be an interesting look. You might be able t'find
some good golden wood pieces in Stores, or pieces you could ask Jeroch
t'stain for you--if'n you end up commissioning *everything* you want
t'have, it could end up getting a bit pricy. Mind you, 'tis the surest way
of getting the colors you want. What you might do is take a look at what's
available, especially if'n you decide t'go with tapestries since custom
tapestries cost, and work from what you find." The greenrider slants a
curious look towards Javi. "Little *use* I can understand--m'kin don't have
much practical use for me either, come to that--but are you sure they
wouldn't like t'see you all the same? Even that sister of yours? Any road,
there's nay reason you shouldn't go back long enough t'claim any furniture
or belongings that were yours that might be useful here, if'n they'd let
you have 'em. I did that, and even when I had much less stuff just having
those familiar pieces made everything look so much less...." She lets a
gesture around the weyr finish the sentence wordlessly. "Mmm-hmm. The
Emasculator was a gift from Tria, with m'name carved in the handle and
everything. The tunnelsnake head's m'trophy from killing Slithereth.
M'cousin did a lovely job mounting it for me."

Lysseth> Naelanth senses that Lysseth is not without an appreciation for
this different river, either; and if she's also not without curiosity about
just *why* it might heat on the subject of Taralyth's... well, she too has
something like manners. She will not ask, and only flashes silver-green in
a soundless version of 'You're welcome.'

Javinia still seems to be having some difficulty getting her thoughts
around these last two 'decorations'. "The Emasculator is a ... ?" She dips
her head, peering up at the rider from beneath straight brown brows. "True.
I've nowhere near enough to afford to commission -everything-, and I've yet
to truly scour the stores. There's always something to do. Or in Naelanth's
mind, somewhere for us to wing away to." The way Kassima says 'pastels' and
'interesting' makes her say, "Well, I thought it'd be lighter. It's so
easier to have a -dark- weyr, you see? And ... Oh, I know. Viv -would- be
happy to see me, but she's at Igen these days, and with Calder and his wife
running the hold now, I'm truly not sure what would be mine anymore." Her
family works somewhat differently, it seems. Then, color heightening, "Oh,
feh. Kassi, I'm sorry. I've -no- manners. Please, take an edge of the bed?
Definitely chairs first. Or -something-." Helping herself to the other end
of the bed, she adds, "I had no idea K'nan was your mentor. Huh. No wonder
you knew. Speaking of knowing: Ys and K'ran. Well, right, he's moved in
with Tarien, and it's no 'open' weyrmating, or so he's said, and so he
broke it off with Ys, which, of course, broke her heart. Dianneth was
livid. Mad enough she actually bespoke Naelanth, which is saying something.
Anyway, I suppose I wasn't surprised that it'd end eventually, but I
thought he'd moved in with Kich! Seeing as she's due in another ... seven?
months or so."

Kassima is very chipper about answering, "Oh, sorry, didn't realize you
didn't know--'tis a gelding device. For bovine bulls, y'know? Only I tend
t'carry it around when I'm proddy and threaten men with it. Haven't ever
actually *used* it, even though someone asked me t'castrate another man for
him once. That gave me the creeps nay end." She shudders, for emphasis.
"--Isn't there just. Though you might find bits and pieces from that, too;
memories of places you've gone. You could gather seashells and put a bowl
of 'em on display, if'n Naelanth likes taking you t'beaches. I don't mean
t'cast aspersions." Indeed, the greenrider seems sheepish. "There's naught
wrong with pastels, truly--'twas thinking it might be like living in a
flower garden, in a way... at Igen? Why at Igen? You could be going t'be
asking, at least. Could be they'd welcome having the room cleared out,"
which she says rather apologetically, "if'n they've no use for what's
there. But it depends on what you're comfortable with doing.
Thankee--y'know, I never did get around t'chairs for guests? Just m'moving
boxes with cushions on them. I'm still nay sure I'm the best person
t'advise about interior design," she teases as she pushes away from the
wall and settles on the bed more comfortably. "He was. 'Twas his first,
since he Impressed nay long a'fore me. A *closed* weyrmating, truly?
Between those two? Huh. Wonder how long that'll last this time. I suppose
if'n he could cleave unto only one woman, 'twould surely be Tarien... and
Ys wasn't prepared. Ach, poor lady. I can't say she shouldn't have known,
but in her place it might be easy t'forget, and--whoa!" Double-take time.
"Wait. Wait. Kich is *what*?"

"A gelding device?" Javinia's wrinkling her nose, all dubious. "Sometimes
I'm glad I'm a -female- malerider," she admits, despite Frenese's
discomfort with it. "Now that's a great idea. Things from where Naelanth
and I go. He'd -love- that." She's fairly beaming at Kassima. "See? I
-knew- you were the right person to ask. I mean, I can get the basics here
or from home, but decorations ... those we can get together. He'll be
thrilled. Of course, I'll -never- get to sit home now, but ... " That's
hardly a bad thing. She chuckles over those cushioned boxes. "Truly? How
funny. Well, I don't feel half so bad then. -- Truth. That seems to be the
general response -- about those two. I can't say I know enough to comment
at all, but ... " Her silence is comment enough. Then she's blinking.
"What? Oh, Kich? You don't -know-? Oh. Well, I guess she and K'ran managed
it before he decided to move in with Tarien. He knows and everything. She's
told him. He seemed ... all right with it."

Telgar Weyr> Javinia throws a Q to the knot: Are maple trees canon?

Telgar Weyr> L'han huhs.

Telgar Weyr> L'han is never good at these questions :) Can't
remember...well, is sure he's not heard of people sugaring, but that
doesn't mean anything.

Telgar Weyr> Kassima would say yes. I've never seen anything that said they
*weren't*, and I seem to recall Bakers using maple syrup on-game at least.

"There's a certain security in lacking certain vulnerable bits," Kassi
agrees, managing not to laugh outright--but just barely, and her grin and
dancing eyes give her away regardless. Javi's reaction pleases her; she
beams, too. "Oh, good! On a similar theme, if'n you ever visit Crafthalls,
you could take a peek at what sorts of things *they* might have that you
could use. Herbs or flowers from Healercraft, pillows or cushions or rugs
or whatever from the Weavers, carvings from Woodcraft, little knickknacks,
mayhaps naught all that expensive but things that catch your fancy or his.
That might be more fun than commissioning things, really. If'n you end up
considering paintings or sketches, though, I'm morally obligated t'drop
Khari's name as someone t'ask about such things. She's best at portraits,
but if'n Naelanth might like a landscape or two near his couch t'be looking
at when he is stuck at home...." She at least has the grace to be slightly
sheepish, if amusedly so, about promoting her daughter's work. "Truly. And
nay surprise 'twould be the response. K'ran's tried monogamy a'fore and
couldn't manage it; some rumors would have it that the weyrmating wasn't
open yet when he started bedding Tarien. So." She's terribly bland-voiced
while relating this. "--You're saying Kich is *pregnant*? By K'ran? Hah! I
knew she'd end up with another soon or late! But K'ran's only all right
with it? I'd have thought he'd be thrilled; I'd gotten the impression he
wanted more children. Mayhaps 'tis only the timing."

Telgar Weyr> L'han hehs. www.filidh.org/~kassima/logs/prepare.htm
"whichshe's proceeded to stick raspberries on and smother in maple syrup"

Telgar Weyr> Gay says, "Wow, speedy. :)"

Telgar Weyr> L'han says, "Lots of people have the color of maple syrup in
their descs o.O"

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "Well, yes, I've used it too. It works so well
in making craving foods disgusting. ;)"

Telgar Weyr> Kassima says, "Nothing like munching on boiled asparagus with
whipped cream, spinach, and maple syrup to make other characters turn green."

Telgar Weyr> L'han hee

Telgar Weyr> Gay grins!

Telgar Weyr> L'han says, "I was hoping to google a list of native trees or
somesuch but no such luck."

Javinia only nods at this first -- certain bits and security, yes -- though
shoulders shiver, much like for the spinner, as if emphathetic for her male
counterparts. Of course, "That's a wonderful point. The Crafthalls. Much
more fun than commissioning, and a reason to explore and be away, which
Naelanth never minds." It's her turn to look somewhat sheepish. "Now, which
one is that -- Khari? I haven't quite got them all down yet. But you know,
that's another great idea. Do you think she'd do a mural?" There's a
considering tilt to her head as she looks past the greenrider toward the
brown's couch. "Hrm. Well," a slight shrug of shoulder as she glances back,
"R'var says there's no real place for such a thing -- monogamy -- in a
Weyr. Not that I believe -R'var- of all people, but ... after Dianneth went
up, well, it's difficult, you know?" Then she's backpeddling. "I didn't say
he -wasn't- happy. It's only that, well, he and Ys had just had a rather
large fight, and I think he was feeling bad about -that- -- not Kich. He
accepted my congratulations without anything I'd call reluctance. But I
can't say I know how he truly feels."

Telgar Weyr> Javinia nods. There used to be a site -- All the Plants of
Pern -- or some such. But it's poofed. So sad.

Telgar Weyr> S'dar says, "http://www.angelfire.com/on2/menai/pernplants.html?"

Telgar Weyr> Javinia beams at S'dar!

Telgar Weyr> L'han says, "I've never known where 'sweetening' comes from. I
always wondered, tho...why do we only make syrup from maple trees? They all
have sap, right?"

Telgar Weyr> L'han huh. Sugar beets for sweetening, I guess.

Telgar Weyr> L'han says, "Well this mentions syrup, anyway, under sweet
cane: Cane juice yields brown and white sugars. Byproducts are made into
molasses, syrup, and rum."

Telgar Weyr> Gay looks. Apparently, in the spring, maple sap turns sugary
from the starches produced earlier in the year.

Kassima casts a glance and grin out towards the ledge at mention of the
brown. "'Tis interesting that he's ended up liking travel so well. Khari's
m'second-eldest; she lives in the Lower Caverns," she turns back to answer,
"and paints t'be earning her way; she's really quite good. She's done
pictures of all of her sibs for me, and the fathers of all but Kay and
herself... Syraemia did those, back a'fore they died. I don't see why she
wouldn't, though she'd be the one t'say for sure. Just be warned that the
bigger the work, the more she's apt t'want in compensation, even if'n she
does tend t'give Telgarians a discount." Her brows pop up; she gives a
snort. "R'var doesn't know what he's speaking of. For some people that's
doubtless true; for others, nonsense. *Riders* can't be completely
monogamous if'n their dragons ever rise or catch, 'tis true, unless they
only ever catch or are caught by their weyrmate's dragon, but that's...
different. You can have a monogamous match all the same, so long as you
don't dally *outside* of flights. He should see M'rgan and Kena. They've
been together and only with each other for Turns upon Turns." Then, "I did
want t'ask if'n you weathered that all right. The flight experience, I
mean. I knew that Naelanth chased... *ah*, aye, that could be accounting.
'Twould make him subdued on anything, most likely."

Telgar Weyr> L'han ohs. Other trees it's not tasty?

Telgar Weyr> Gay says, "I guess not. Maybe it doesn't work the same with
the others."

Telgar Weyr> L'han says, "Defective trees!"

Javinia listens with cocked head, suddenly quite intent. "Truly? Hrm."
Another look toward Naelanth's couch. "Could you ask her for me? I think
it'd be a fine gift for Naelanth, and well, I rather miss the painting on
my walls. Not the big orange face with the puce nose from our weyrling
weyr, mind you, but ... " she sounds almost sentimental. "Oh, I know.
R'var. But ... well ... true. They have? That's awfully nice for them. I'm
glad. It certainly happens, I know, but K'ran is, well ... " Her gaze slips
to Kassima, and she somehow thinks better of finishing that sentence. Her
expression suggests she's not likely to if asked either. Talk of flights is
-almost- a welcome diversion. "Oh, we weathered it," she says, standing,
and walking over to the curtain that separates weyr and ledge. Pushing it
aside with a hand, she looks out. "He didn't get hit with a beast at least.
No injuries. And thankfully, Indrath won." The relief is evident. "Even if
that might complicate things." Turning back around, "You know, I wouldn't
mind seeing your weyr. If you wouldn't mind. You've the blues and greens?
I'd like to see the coloring. -- At some point. Just to compare. Or, to see
it in use, I suppose."

"I can," Kassima promises, dipping her chin and smiling. "She'll appreciate
the chance, methinks, and if'n she's interested she'll be happy t'meet with
you t'discuss it--I don't *believe* she has any large projects on the
burner right now, though sometimes I find it harder t'keep up now that
she's grown and flitting all over Pern when she can. I can promise nay
orange faces with puce noses, though, methinks. She hasn't had such bad
taste as that since she was five." Her mouth does another of those
corner-tug things, this time definitely upwards... but the humor in it's
wry. "Nay the best candidate for such a match," she finishes on her own,
dry as dust. "And in the interest of nay saying something that, as a
Wingleader, I shouldn't, 'twill leave it there, even if'n I don't wonder
if'n he'd agree with me. He *does* love Tarien, though. There's nay doubt
of that." Javi's drift towards the outer curtain seems to remind Kassi of
something; she, too, rises to her feet. "And you handled the loss all
right? I haven't heard any tales of you hitting on Maylia in the Living
Cavern or being found unconscious drunk at the Lake Shore, so I'm
guessing... shells, nay, 'twouldn't mind. You'd be welcome any time; just
check through Naelanth and Lysseth first, if'n 'twould, so I can warn you
off if'n I'm meeting with a Wingmate or Kazy's currently throwing up all
over the place. I'd invite you over now, but I do need t'be checking up on
Kazy, and then Karanaya and I were going to discuss a possible rope drill
competition over lunch. So I need t'be scattering off. Another time?"

Javinia watches the greenrider, listening, nodding. "That'd be wonderful.
I'd appreciate it." She mirrors that wry expression. "Best not to say
anything. -- Oh, all right enough." This brings an outright laugh, even
dimples. "No, no hitting on Maylia, though I think I'd be the one to come
out worse in that exchange. But," holding the curtain for her wingleader,
she adds, "Thank you for stopping by. It was much help. I've a few ideas to
worth with now. And a mural to look to. Of course, some other time.
Naelanth and I will have to get ready if there are rope drills in the
offing." Here, a little grin. "Thanks again, Kassi. Clear skies."

[Editor's Note:  Both Javi and I had to run at this point,
so the scene ends here. :) ]