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The Color of Trust


Date:  February 22, 2005
Place:  Ista Weyr Beach: North
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:  Another visit to M'rek, and a fun one. :)  Since their
last discussion of runner delivery was interrupted, Kassima heads back
over to formalize details with everyone's favorite incorrigible 
bronzerider.  With plots and plans, trust and love as the conversation
topics of choice, it's perhaps not surprising that there's less of 
their customary banter than usual--although there's always some. ;)  
It's a great scene.  I look forward to all the RP that promises to 
come from it. :)

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The Log:

You fly to the widest part of the beach and land.

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.

M'rek is hanging out on the beach, up to neither good nor evil as he
watches the sunset over the ocean and sings a robust chorus of, "Pass the
greenrider on the left hand side.." Perhaps in honor of the landing green
and her lifemate.

A spray of sand, indeed--sand and water, since Lysseth quite purposefully
makes a showy sort of landing that sends sea-spray as well as sand fleeing
from her wings, and earns a sound of fond if decided disgust from the woman
aboard her. "Have I mentioned that sometimes I like you better when you
aren't in high spirits?" Kassi ribs her dragon as she slides down. No
response; imagine that. But if the rider was miffed at all, she can't stay
so long in the face of such a greeting--she laughs heartily, pulling off
her riding helmet to let her braid fall and tossing it, gloves, and jacket
all aside before she can swelter. "Pass the greenrider so soon, M'rek, when
she's just gotten here?"

M'rek claps for Lysseth, just as anyone who wishes to remain in the good
graces of such a lovely beast should, and then he moves to offer Kassima a
welcoming kiss on the cheek, "You know I'd only pass you when I knew you
were coming back arounda gain, dearest heart." there's a wink and then,
"How's everything going?" And he rubs his hands together like a child
awaiting a turnday present, "Had any luck with things?"

Lysseth makes a peculiar dip of her head while spreading out her wings,
which looks all the world for a bow. Trust her to know such a trick.
Kassima, laughing, turns her head to accept, and extends her arms to offer
an impulsive hug in exchange. "Well, a'course," she reasons, eyes gleaming
with mirth. "Who else could you ever convince t'bear you a Lemonsmile?
Luck--well, depends on your definition. I don't think anyone's come looking
for M'tri and his prize yet. We've been watching. There was a young man at
the Weyr who seems uncommonly interested in it, but I think--stress
think--that 'tis only because he finds a statuette of a green runner
sharding odd." Pause. Drolly, "Go figure that. But I did talk t'Rodric, and
he's offered t'be taking one of the bunch. Did you have any other ideas for
who they should be going to?"

M'rek returns the hug and then laughs, "Lemonsmile is ever dear to
m'heart." reflecting her accent back a little bit, as he sometimes does
without meaning to. It's only that sentence and then he's using his own
slow drawl, "Nobody looking for M'tri yet, huh? That's a bit disappointing.
Well. I suppose it is odd at that. Green being, uh, lucky and all." He
glances to the green dragon, he wasn't going to say it, not in front of a
Lady. "Rodric. He wants one?"

"There'll never be a baby more loved, I'm sure. Although in most cases I
suspect if'n you heard of someone named 'Lemonsmile' you'd more likely
assume his or her parents hated them." Kassima grins at him, perhaps in
part because of the echoed accent. "Nobody at all," she agrees, mimicking
his in exchange. Sort of. There's still a bit of a lilt, which makes the
sound odd. "You're sure the persons in question know he has it? You of all
people should know how lucky green can be, I sometimes think," she adds
with great amusement. Lysseth contrives to look dignified. "Would be
willing t'take one, at least. He seemed a bit entertained by the whole
thing. Trust Roddy. And nay t'get off topic, but how're things suiting you
here? Are you enjoying the Candidates? Or feeling any less restless, O
jewel of m'perpetual delight?"

M'rek chortles and nods, "Aye. Lemonsmile'll always be my favorite. We just
won't tell the others." Her echo of his accent causes more laughter and
then M'rek makes a broad gesture, "Pull up some sand? Have a seat? Ista is
a wonderful place. The candidates are a nice lot. I'm insanely restless.
Aye, I'm that. But. There's not much to be done for it." He heaves a sigh
and then sits to the sand himself. "So. Roddy'll take one. What about
Master Learan? Any luck?"

Kassima has to ask him as she takes him up on that invitation and settles
cross-legged on the sand, "Just how many others are you anticipating?"
Complete with a waggle of brows. "It does have its charms. I visit
sometimes, other times--one of m'daughters is here--but nay so much as
that, really. There are memories." She gives a soft snort. "A'course, at
this point, everywhere has memories. That offer I made t'give you a ride
should something ever be urgent still holds, but I don't know how much that
can help with general restlessness. Aught I can do?" To the last, she
shakes her head. "Haven't been yet t'be asking. I didn't get a chance
t'take the runners back from you t'deliver a'fore you got called away last
time, and I thought I'd better have the item in hand so he can see 'tis
essentially harmless of itself. I'd nay want our source of scotch thinking
we're plotting ill against him."

"I always wanted a large family. I'm thinking 10 is a good start. Any sets
of twins are just bonus." The bronzerider winks and digs his bare toes into
the sand. "Aye. It's hard to not accumulate memories. I just hope they're
good ones, aye?" And he sounds as if he really means the question before he
goes on, "Well. I can hand them all over tonight before you leave. They're
all ready. Six in all, and you can pass them out as you like. I'll leave it
up to you."

"Well," says Kassima, thoughtful, "there've been twins in m'family,
including two of m'own lot--assuming," with a sidelong look and grin, "that
you mean you want ten with me. Probably nay a wise assumption. Good ones...
aye, of a sort." An expression crosses her face: rueful, with perhaps a
hint of sadness, but of the old and much-faded kind. "Khari's father lived
here," she explains, "a'fore he died in Fall. He was a friend--and nay more
than that, weyrmated t'Ellwiny as he was, but he was the first person 'twas
really close to who bought it that way. Y'ken? So. Ista makes me think of
him, a bit. Khari's the one who did the... oh, shells, I never *did* give
those t'you. Wait right there." She's scrambling up out of the sand and
over to her dragon, to fish around in the strap-pouch. "Sounds like a plan
t'me. Where'd the other one go? Since one's t'Trii, I know--" She pauses to
throw him a surprised look. "Leave it up t'me? 'Tis important, aye?"

M'rek laughs, "Who else?" Indeed, who else would let him name children
things like 'Lemonsmile'. Then he looks sympathetic, "Ah. I didn't know.
Died in fall, aye? That's a rough way to go." Then he's left to watch her,
"What is it? Aye, yes. I think you should make the call. It'll be better
that way. I would pick a particular group of people, and it might be better
if we have a slightly different angle than my mind would take, since we
still don't completely know who we're dealing with here."

Kassima chortles at him. "I'm sure there are women Pern over who'd be
delighted t'bear your children, even if'n they are going t'be called things
like 'Grapefrown' and 'Apricotgrimace' and 'Kumquatzbelligerentexpression.'
Hey, and that last one even begins with K!" Finally finding what she was
looking for, she slaps the pouch closed and returns triumphant, flopping
back down on the sand and offering him a box of about the right size to
contain dragonpoker cards. "D'you recall the time we drank in m'weyr, nay
long after we met, how you thought something might be a good gift for a
certain personage? I asked Khari t'make these up, for you t'give or do what
you like with. Or even keep. They might amuse you." Always a terrifying
testimony. "If'n you think it wise, then 'twill do it," she agrees, slowly.
"I trust you t'know what you're doing. And I'm honored that you'd trust me
t'be choosing. You think there shouldn't be too many in any one place?"

M'rek laughs warmly, "It's the age old question, why would I want a woman
who'd be willing to settle for the likes of me?" and he grins cheekily
before he's nodding that bald head of his, "Aye. I remember it well. Or. I
can at least pretend. There was a lot of drinking and I said more than I
should have?" That would describe 80% of his life at least. Then. He
remembers. "The cards. You didn't. Did you?" Obviously. "Aye. I trust you
completely. Keep them as spread out as possible. At the very least we'll
bankrupt them in trying in so many different locales. I want it to be as
difficult as possible. And. I need time to find the original, which I can
hardly do from here."

"'Settle.' You jest, surely? Looking like you do, clever as you can be,
wildly entertaining, a great sense of fun, courage, recklessness, polish
when you want t'have it, even the ability and tendency t'beat someone's
brains out which could be said t'have a certain masculine appeal...."
Kassi's teasing, but only slightly, and only towards the end; there's
fondness in it, but sincerity, too. She aims an elbow-nudge at his ribs.
"Pull the other leg, it has bells on it. I don't know that you said aught
indiscreet--aye! Those. Exactly." Beam. She opens the box to fan the cards
out in display the backs so that he can see their deep violet coloration,
then passes them over. It's a personalized deck, all right. The Holds suit
is Bitra, naturally; the Craft, Herders, with a familiar Journeywoman on
that card. Rodric and Edris are among the Harpers. And Weyrs, of course,
are Telgar, except for the Weyrling, who wouldn't seem to match what with
that High Reaches knot and bald head. "What d'you think?" she asks,
gleeful. At least for a moment; she sobers after to tell him, "I appreciate
that, M'rek. The trust. I'm touched by it; I hope I can be worthy of it.
Same directions for each on price? Don't ask less than twenty, don't take
more than five? How long a'fore the clutch Hatches, d'you think?"

M'rek laughs then, "I was teasing. I'd be mad, just mad to not..well.
Anyway." The bronzer winks and then chuckles once more, this time to
himself. "You forgot natty dresser. That's the most important one, I
think." And then the cards are in his hands and his eyebrows are raised as
he looks over them in admiration, several comments pouring forth from him,
"Wow. And this one. That's just. Wow. Aye, now, I like that. He'll be happy
to have his favorite pet in there." Teasing again, and then, "What do I owe
you for them, Kassi my love?" And he's serious, "You know. He's going to
flip for them, and maybe I'll even be able to give them to him for his
turnday. "I think they're the best ever. You know. We should get a deck for
Rodric. It's too bad there's not a fourth suit for the traders." Then he
frees a hand briefly to wave it, "Well. You know. You already are. No.
Might want to vary the price some. Let some of them set their own price.
I'd be interested to see what some of them set."

Kassima immediately prompts, "Mad to nay?" Because she's Kassi, and she
would. "Mad at all? You are a little mad, a'course, but so are all the
interesting people in their own ways. I don't know how I could've forgotten
natty dresser. You're right. I'm terribly remiss." She watches his survey
of the cards with delight and pride, the latter likely for her daughter's
handiwork. "Nay charge," she says, flashing a smile. "Call them m'gift
t'you. Or--well, if'n there's aught I'd ask, 'tis that if'n he doesn't like
them, don't mention the artist's name. I hope he will, though. And that
Lady Holder card can be replaced at any time. I figured Lady Filliana was
the least risky option for it." Perhaps so. "For Roddy... nay a bad idea.
Nerat for Holds--though what for Weyrs and Crafts? Mayhaps we could replace
Crafts with Traders, make it a truly unique deck. Since his Craft will be
represented in the Harpers." Coloring a bit, she ducks her head but doesn't
further argue. "Good point," she agrees instead. "Wouldn't want it t'look
too planned. Shall I ask the recipients t'send you a message if'n they're
contacted about 'em?"

"That we are." M'rek responds with cheerful enthusiasm, "Mad as Lord
Holders. All of us to a one. Except maybe Him. He might actually be sane.
Wouldn't that be a switch. Now then. No charge. Shards, Kassi. I'm
speechless. Well, okay, I'm still talking but you get the idea." Then he
laughs as she ducks her head, "What? You all right? Aye. Or to you if you
want, since I can hardly do anything about anything as it is." He turns
over the cards in his hand, looking at the backs now. "Sria's supposed to
talk to one of that crew that Gerome has working for him. A woman named
Brigid. I don't suppose you've seen Sria lately? I'm interested in if she
heard anything or not."

"You didn't answer the first question," Kassima points out, with another
attempted poke to his side. "A'course we are. Think you so? You might know
better than anyone else. That'd quite put paid t'my theory of needing t'be
a bit mad t'be interesting, though, wouldn't it just. Faranth, M'rek, has
nay anyone ever given you a gift a'fore?" Said with a grin. "I'm all right.
Just flattered beyond m'desert by you. I don't see where you get this
'can't do aught' idea--look what you're managing t'do from here, after all.
You got the things made, you decided what t'do with 'em, you're setting
things in motion. I or somebody else might have t'do the legwork for you,
but that doesn't mean you aren't *accomplishing* aught. You're just being
the brains instead of the legs." She laces her fingers loosely together,
dropping them in her lap. "He has one of them working for him now? Hadn't
heard that bit. Afraid I haven't, nay. I don't think I've seen her since...
aye, 'twould have been that costume party. We've only met a time or two. I
could check while 'twill be at 'Reaches anyway?"

"Didn't I?" A smooth drawl from the bronzerider as he looks distracted for
a moment with his thoughts. "Oh." He shakes his head and then laughs,
"Sometimes, I forget I'm not in Bitra anymore." All that doublespeak. "Mad
to not love one who loves me." And he puts it plainly for the Telgari
Greenrider as he grins wolfishly, "Aye, I suppose I might know if anyone
did. I tell you. He speaks maddening sense." Then M'rek shrugs, "I guess
time will tell who is mad and who is just brilliant, if drunk?" And then he
laughs again, quickly and easily, "Well. Okay. Sure, I did that part. But.
You know I'm not really an idea type. I want my hands on something."
There's a fist made and then shaken loose. "I always liked being the legs.
Bah." He waves a hand, "Experience, huh? Well anyway. Aye, that he does.
Gerome turned one of them. That Gerome." He actually chortles over Vorlin's
twin bladed right hand man. "He's sharding scary. Aye, if you wouldn't mind
checking for me? What else. What else do we need to know? Maybe you can ask
Cailin if she ever say the green runner. She'd have still been at Bitra
when I think it must have surfaced first. She might be able to suggest one
of the flock who'd be likely to pilfer items in storage. Either to decorate
their own room or to sell. Would you mind?"

Kassima shakes her head by way of answer--and as for his answer, once
given, it seems to touch a chord. Or nerve. She's quiet herself a moment
before giving a crooked grin in exchange. "There've been times I'd agree,
that the beloved is mad nay t'love. But we can't control who we love, can
we? If'n Yselle, say, came up t'you and declared her love, would you
immediately be smitten?" Some genuine curiosity is beneath the question.
"Long-term, mind, I might agree with you. 'Tis a wonderful thing. Being
loved. Well, 'twill take you at your word since I've only conversed with
him the once, really. And that time of wine. --I just bet you want your
hands on something," she adds with deadpan humor. "It doesn't seem a bad
idea, though. At least 'tis only a temporary grounding. You'll have your
legs back soon enough. Gerome does seem able t'pull off the most...
interesting ideas, sometimes." She snickers and mutters under her breath,
"Jezel. Case in point. Nay, 'twould nay mind checking. Cailin's easy enough
too, since 'twill be at Herder as well, so I can try and look her up while
I'm there. Nay problem. Mayhaps one of the Flock members has a predilection
for runners, and the color green."

M'rek listens a bit without making comment until he asks, "Yselle? I'd not
expect her. But. Doesn't work like that, does it? Love.." And whatever
inane profoundness he's going to share is lost when he voices his most
favorite word, "Shards." And then an encore, "Shards." Followed by, "Lord
Ulf requires my presence and he wants me to change my shirt first. I'll
catch up with you in a bit and give you the runners?" And he's to his feet.
"I'll catch you later, Kassi."