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We Do Chicken Right


Date:  December 19, 2004
Place:  High Reaches Weyr Lake Shore
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:  Now that the eggs have been cluched, V'lano is bound
to High Reaches Weyr.  But since Kassi has no intention of doing 
without his company for months on end, there's nothing to do but 
visit him there--and in the process witness the latter half of a 
Search and discuss the destiny of Volath's suspiciously feathered
son.  Afterwards, Vel and Kassi invent Pern's very own version of 
Supermarket Sweep, albeit with a purpose other than winning cash and 
prizes in mind. ;)

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The Log:

You swoop down to a landing at the lake shore.

<*> Linnea shakes her head, "No no. I'm sure they'd be all honored. As I
said, they've a few of us to spare. But it might make a good excuse for why
I'd accepted. Though I wouldn't want to make trouble, and indeed, truth
would be a better course." Rubbing her arms, she nods. "I'd say it is a
yes. I mean, surely it is." Half a roll of one rather pointy shoulder
later, "I knew I'd never escape from laundry. Alas." Dramatic gesture of
back of hand to forehead, then she's speaking to the dragon with all
seriousness. "But thank you, Dasmareth. For the sand, and for the
invitation to stay. If I say yes again, may I come out of the water?"

<*> V'lano looks as unpuffy as possible, red cheeks notwithstanding. "I...
just was going to cough," he explains dully, shoulders hunching a bit. "And
then I didn't have to. So." He clears his throat and focuses elsewhere,
such as on Linnea's response, the meaningfulness of which is beginning to
sink into his head with visible effect on his level of interest. "Maybe,"
he brightly begins to the blue-skirted girl, "you won't draw laundry duty,
just like I never drew dragon-washing!"

<*> Lysseth takes her sweet time after her bugled exchange with the
watchrider in actually descending. Maybe she decided to admire the scenery.
When she finally does settle, she does it neatly and with wings tucked
quickly back against her sides; her rumble of greeting to those here is
clear-given and polite. Kassi's, "Duties to the 'Reaches and her queens!"
is likewise clear-given--if somewhat dopplered by her slide down from on
high--but more along the lines of cheerful.

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.

Dasmareth's answer comes first. Her head lifting once more, then her body
following as she comes to her feet and bugles. The petite green finally
moving clear then, settling contentedly to the beach, right in the hollow
she's excavated before. "I think we can safely say, that's a yes.
Congratulations, Linnea. Welcome to candidacy." Then for the new arrival,
"Reaches duties, to Telgar."

Josilina still looks a bit bewildered, but she nods. "If you say so. - Oh
there are good ones! Like... helping the nannies. And... and... other
stuff." Kassima's arrival gets a wave, "'Reaches duties to Telgar! -
Congratulations." She echoes Amilin, now that the answer is assured. "I
hope you'll like it here, and that your mother doesn't mind too much." She
darts a distracted look towards the bowl and pulls a face. "Lhia says
someone's looking for me, if you'll excuse me... I'll probably see most of
you later. Or around." And with a wave she hurries off.

Linnea smiles a prim-lipped smile as the dragon holding her in place moves
around into the sandbar she's created. "Isn't she graceful?" she observes,
shifting the container of sand about to her other arm. "Well! I wouldn't
mind having laundry duty. It would be something of a job I'd excel at, if I
may say so. Especially if I ever get this sand to the lower caverns.
Searched! That much is exciting." Emboldened by her adventures, she calls
out loudly and cheerily, "And River Bend's duties to you!" both to the
arriving and to the departing.

"Telgar's duties to... oh." V'lano, distracted by the sound of draconic
wings settling on the air nearby and then by the grinning, staring
identification of those wings, echoes Amilin before he even realizes she's
greeting someone from his own Weyr. He does, however, have sense enough
about him to pause and turn toward the goldrider, offering a wave and a
grinned, "Send for me if you need rescue - " Back at Linnea, he notes,
"Hey. Thank you, from me too. And Telgar, maybe. I'm not as sure if I'm
supposed to say that." May as well look -completely- clueless, not just
partly.

Kassima waves back to Amilin and Josilina in turn, looking at first curious
for the scene acting itself out before her, and then for the latter's
departure--she cranes her neck to peer after the woman. "Very busy," she
observes, amusement in her tone for some reason. "I've just missed seeing a
Search, haven't I? Timing. Must remember t'work on *timing*. Felicitations,
though, t'you," she offers to Linnea with a grin, "since I'm guessing
you're the lucky one; and duties right back. Duties right back t'*Telgar*
too, apparently." This has the sound of an affectionate taunt. "Is this
forgetfulness your latest tactic in the quest t'wriggle out of our deal,
V'lano? Because 'tis nay so much with the working."

Amilin waves after the departing Jos, then chuckles softly, "She's got her
moments." That of Das. "If you'd like me to show you the way to the
barracks, and help you get settled, I'd be glad to. But as of now, you have
the rest of the day off, duty wise. It usually takes a day before they work
you into the duty schedule also." For Kassima she gives a grin, "It's all
the time on the hot sands. Makes it so they can't think straight once off
of them."

Linnea outright laughs at this between the Telgari riders. "I suppose you
could say duties from whereever you want. Maybe I'm supposed to say from
Reaches now instead of from River Bend? I wonder what the harpers would say
about etiquette for that?" The pointy-jawed girl pulls up her damp-around
the edges skirt, and trudges through the water toward the shore, ahhing as
sand parts and walking an arc around Dasmareth, speaking to Amilin. "I'd
love to have a walk there. I saw Satiet, earlier? But I don't think the
barracks are up on the high cliffs where people dive. Unless you have a
really strange sense of humor."

V'lano sniffs good-naturedly. "Never had a harper around to tell me what to
do. I'll settle for a lady's advice." There's a teasing tone in that, and
he tosses a back-in-your-court glance toward Kassima - but nevertheless he
sidesteps somewhat closer to her and puts an elbow toward the Telgari
greenrider, clearly for her abuse should she wish it. "I'm not trying to
wriggle. I -told- you that when I said 'after,' I clearly meant 'after it
all.' After the hatching, after everything. Back home." He puts his nose a
little higher in the air, but his dark eyes are merry, even self-mocking.
"Kassima, this is Linnea. She's going to stand for our ba - er, clutch."

"Boils the brains," Kassima solemnly agrees with the other greenrider.
"Until they leak out through the ears and get in the hair. Takes forever
t'clean that up, I'm told." She makes a show of studying V'lano's hair, as
though to search for brain-trace. "Nay Harper, I--although I do grant that
V'lano at least seems t'mistake me for a lady," this with a low, facetious
bow to the rider in question, "but probably High Reaches while you're a
Candidate, would be m'guess. And... let me just say that if'n nay Weyr does
keep their Barracks on diving cliffs, I now believe they *should*. Any
snorers could just be pitched over." Pantomiming the heaving of some poor
soul into the Lake, she decides, "Convenient." Although she aims a poke at
the bronzerider's ribs once he's within reach, it's a light one; and she
abuses the elbow cheerfully, setting her hand on it and for one moment
drawing herself up as though to emulate a lady indeed. "Mmm-hmm. Next
thing, you'll be saying when you get back that 'after it all' clearly means
'after a *lifetime*.' Oh, but a pleasure 'tis." She flashes Linnea a smile
that's less teasing, but no less friendly. "T'meet you, I mean. You're
lucky t'have a shot at one of the Volath-spawn. I just hope you don't get
the chicken."

"You could say either, but your of Reaches while you stand. Makes things a
bit easier, I expect." Ami replies as Linnea approaches, and then nods
slowly, "I'll be glad to show you the way, but true. Up there is more for
the view, the diving, the odd private chat." She listens to the other
exchange, mainly in passing -- until that last. "The chicken?"

Linnea finally arrives back on the lake's shore, and she gives a great
shivering wriggle back and forth as though attempting to toss water off in
all directions. Mostly she fails, only succeeding in tangling up her skirt
around her legs. "Drat." That's abandoned while she tugs at her skirt to
right it, and adjusts her posture, a good little representative of the
weyr. "Ohh. Reaches's duties to you, then. Or is it Reaches duties? I was
never any good at those writing lessons. Much better at embroidery." The
girl sneezes, then ohs, digging a kerchief from a dry pocket up top of the
skirt. "Pardon me. Did you say there will be fowl coming from those eggs?"
Horrified fascination is in her tone now, which echoes Amilin. "Thank you
for the guiding. I'll need it. This is such a big place; much larger than
River Bend, or even Tillek."

V'lano lifts his spare hand to his face, cradling his forehead in splayed
fingertips, but behind his palm his mouth is curved in a smile. "Oh, the
chicken," he moans dramatically. "The chicken. I'm told one of those eggs
is supposed to contain a chicken." His hand comes away from his face so he
can tilt his head back and wail to the sky, "It'll probably be from one of
the -grey- ones too, just so she has reason to beat on me." This is all
just a clever distraction from his apparent inability to follow through on
whatever deal Kassima's trying to hold him to, surely.

With eyes both large and solemn, Kassima nods to Amilin. "One of the eggs
will Hatch a giant chicken. That intriguing, ice-hued one. It may be the
fault of all those grey eggs in some way, warping and dooming the rest;
between you and me," she adds, lowering her voice to mock-conspiratorial
tones, "'twould nay be surprised if'n 'tis an *orange* chicken. Just one of
the eggs!" She's reassuring Linnea now, or trying. "Just one. The rest will
be dragons, and doubtless very handsome, clever dragons. Reaches' duties,
methinks 'twould be, but either's a perfectly fine greeting." Her head
drops to hide her grin and a sound suspiciously close to a giggle, or at
least a snicker, at the melodrama of V'lano; she chimes in, "See! Just like
I told you! And then the chicken will come up t'you on the Sands, Vel, and
peck out your eyes, and squawk, 'Why didn't you make that greenrider
breakfast while you had the chance'?"

In the sky directly above, Psamanth swoops down to a landing at the lake
shore.

Karimina hops down Psamanth's side to the ground, as the dragon rumbles
softly.

"When ever your ready." Ami replies to Linnea with a grin, "It's not so
bad, once you get the hang of it, really. And there are plenty of others
still just first finding their way around. Nice thing about candidacy. A
fair few others in the same boat." The Telgarians get a sidelong look, the
both of them. "A giant, orange chicken." She reaches up to tuck a bit of
hair behind her ear, and misses without noticing, "I see." And this
reaction from someone that's used to Josilina?

"Oh my," Linnea brightly observes. "I had no idea those eggs could make
chickens. Did Volath come with something that allows him to make them? It'd
be kindof like having a mint leaf suddenly create herdbeast, wouldn't it?"
Absorbed in her musings, she just catches Kassima's last. "Why? Were you
her cook before you started hatching chickens?" Li blinks a few times,
wrings some water out of her skirt, and straightens her shoulders again.
"Very true! If I'm lost, I can just look for someone else, and they might
know more than I do."

"You're probably right," V'lano sighs with a much put-upon, weary
heaviness. "And I'll regret forever that I braved the killer chicken
instead of the killer kitchen staff." He nods solemnly toward Amilin,
observing additionally, "If it is orange, though, we'll have to paint it.
Personally - " And his tone lowers now, as if the absent goldrider might
hear. "I expect bronzes from the grey eggs, every last one of them. Why,
just look at Volath." Linnea gets a blank look, as if the bronzerider feels
his conversation has been making perfect sense, and the candidate ought to
be better kept up than all that. "It was the result of a bet," he explains
through a kind smile. "The breakfast. Of course, Kassima would like to
interpret the bet one way, and I, another." So simple.

Kassima opens her mouth to make a comment about what Volath might have come
with that would make chickens, but after some further thought--and an
amused warning rumble from Lysseth--she closes it. "I refuse t'answer that
question on the grounds that it might get me drowned by m'dragon," she
says. "Amilin's right, though. Plenty of other people will be dreading the
orange chicken too." So what if that's perhaps not what the Assistant
Weyrlingmaster meant? "'Regret' will be too mild a world, Vel. You shall
weep and wail and gnash your teeth, until the teeth all break and you'll
have t'*gum* breakfast. How's that for dignified. We wagered on whether
there'd be a gold egg, y'see," she clarifies for the others, "and he agreed
t'serve us breakfast if'n there wasn't one--but he doesn't want t'pay up! I
ask you, how gallant or mannerly or honorable is that?"

Psamanth lands on the beach of the lake with a slight flurry of her wings.
A happy croons are giving to those dragons are here. Karimina lands with a
slight *thud* and then stretches out her back and legs. Giving a look
around to see who is here among the dragons. Dasmareth is given a friendly
nod.

Amilin slowly shakes her head, "I think it more likely, that if an orange
chicken comes from one of Lhia's eggs. You wont have to worry about
painting it. Jos will either keel over on the spot, or become catatonic."
Then a slow grin, "I'm sure what ever colors come from the grey eggs,
they'll be just as lovely as the rest. Jos has just always had a thing
against the 'non' colors. Among other things." She clicks her tongue,
"Welshing on a bet. For shame." Dasmareth, for her part, gives a lazy
rumble of greeting, while Ami repeats to Linnea, "Plenty of others will be."

Linnea, standing just out of the lake with the bottom of her skirt damp and
a container full of sand in one arm, ohhs with her mouth in a little round
'o' shape, then presses her lips together primly. "I see. A bet. Of
course." She seems to be considering the merits of betting in general,
versus its drawbacks, her brows twitching as she passes judgement, though
she has at least enough sense not to share it, capitvated instead by the
eggs-and-breakfast turnout. "How can you tell if there is or isn't?" she
asks the general assembly for their opinions. "I mean, does he make
breakfast now, or after all the wriggling things fall out of the broken
shells?"

"Hey! It'll be a much better breakfast if I prepare it somewhere that the
kitchen staff will let me in to use the... kitchen," V'lano finishes
somewhat lamely. He reaches across himself to pat the greenrider's hand on
his elbow. "My honor is partly invested in providing a meal of quality.
Besides, you heard what I said about 'after.' I meant -after.-" This is
obviously extremely clear and meaningful to the bronzer, who does pause to
wave a greeting at Psamanth's rider. "If it was just -serving- breakfast,
besides, I'd think I've paid that debt a few times over." He gives Kassima
a sharp look turned pleased, even smug, by a grin, then turns to Linnea to
remark, "They're larger. And perhaps different." There's a dubious tone
that only makes his answer seem even more vague.

"Perhaps she shall go stark raving mad, leap on its back, and ride it
around the Sands?" Kassima speculates, eyes lit with mirth for the mental
image. "But then an artist would simply have t'paint *that*. Anyway, I'm
rooting for a lot of greens. If'n all the grey Hatch bronzes, then all the
non-grey shall simply have t'hatch greens." Sure. That makes sense. Lysseth
echoes Dasmareth's rumble with a cordial one of her own, seconded by
Kassima's polite nod to the newcomer. "Duties t'High Reaches and her
queens," she repeats. "--If'n there's a queen egg? That's the one color you
can usually tell. They're always gold, and rather on the large side." She
shifts her attention to her ongoing argument: "Well, but that's why you
should convince them! Flutter your lashes or something! Just don't offer
t'sharpen their knives, or I might have t'get jealous and attack them all
with wooden spoons, or something. 'Twould cause an Incident. But," with an
exaggerated sigh belied by the way she brings up her other hand to rest
atop his, atop hers, "I'd be loathe t'lead you to dishonor, I'm sure." The
tips of her ears redden at that grin; but she's soon sweetly retorting,
"Aye, and haven't I returned that favor a time or two?"

Karimina moves closer to the lake next to Linnea and wades in just about
waist level. She gives Amilin a wave and ask curiously. "What are we
talking about." and not of greeting is given to Kassima "Reaches duties to
Telgar and her queens."

"It's true they might not let him in the kitchens here, if Cook doesn't
take a shine to him. I gather the only way Jos can even get in any more is
if she uses R'sel's help to charm or bribe the staff into overlooking her
presence." Something that amuses the greenrider greatly. "Need I mention
caution if you decide to partake of anything Josilina's made along the
lines of refreshments?" Ami nods to Karimina, "Come meet Linnea, if you
haven't yet. And apparently, grey eggs, bets and giant orange chickens are
the topics."

Linnea gives her skirt another little shake with one hand, freeing a few
droplets of water to blend with the sand before she sets down the
sand-holding container and stretches her arms. "Ahhh. Wet sand is heavy
stuff." So relieved of her burden for a moment, she willingly takes it back
up again. "Ohh. Differently colored! That makes sense." Noting Karimina's
ripples as the water moves around her, she takes this chance to repeat her
new duty call. "Duties to Reaches, from...uh. Reaches." So much for that
grand effort. Regardless, she smiles deliberately, unable to contain her
excitement for the moment, even if she's mangled it somewhat.

Karimina gives Linnea a charming smile. "Duties, Linnea. I'm Psamanth's
rider, Karimina. It is nice to met you." Then she gives Ami a sideways
look. "Okay I can understand the first two with the eggs on the sand, but
the orange chicken?"

"See, she says I can't get into the kitchens." Well, that's not -quite-
what Amilin said, but V'lano's taking it at a bit more than face value and
running for his life with it. "And if I fluttered," which he does, showing
off for the Reachian riders and candidate those girlishly long lashes, "you
-wouldn't- be jealous?" He turns the blinkblinking act on Kassima for
effect, but can't suppress wholly a youthful giggle of his own. "I never
got a chance," he notes for Ami's benefit. "She's a - " Say it with him
now. "Very busy woman."

Kassima suggests in a sudden flash of inspiration, "If'n he's aught like
our cook, V'lano should bribe him with a tuber!" Pause. "I hope he's nay
like our cook. One cook like our cook is too many. Is it for a... certain
lack of culinary skill that she was banned, then?" She squints at the
bronzerider beside her in exaggerated suspicion. "And he won't let you in
either? I begin t'be understan... why are you gathering wet sand?" That
question's for Linnea, yes, and it's a rather bemused one. "The grey eggs
will be t'blame for the giant orange chicken, and the chicken will avenge
all bet-welshing," she further explains, just because that was not yet
confusing enough. "Well... I might be a *little* jealous. Particularly if'n
you fluttered so well that the women all swooned. Such as I'm about to do
now." Lifting her hand from his, she pantomimes fanning herself and rolls
her eyes back in her head in amused, half-mock delight. "I'm staking claim
on the swoony flutters." All his eyelash are belong to her?

Amilin's glance to Karimina becomes a nod to the two Telgarian's. Maybe
hinting she should ask them. But a moment latter she's chuckling at V'lano,
"Be thankful for that then. Her sister, Sria can cook. But Jos's cooking
sort of resembles her color sense. You never know what your going to get."
She continues on with, "Cook? Well, she sort of rules the kitchens with an
iron skillet." She adds with a chuckle, "Well I'd hardly be the one to try
and sneak a share of what's already claimed. Besides. G'non'd probably not
be overly thrilled to find me swooning at the sight of any other bronzrider
but himself."

Linnea's efforts at staying with the conversation are only partly
successful, so she contents herself returning a smile to Kariminia. "Well
met. I don't understand the orange chicken either, but...I'd be really
interested in seeing if there is one." That said, she busies a moment with
studying the green dragon who had so recently helped her push sand, raising
her contemplative gaze when her particular variety of sand, the wet kind,
is mentioned. "Sorry? Er, it is to use with the laundry. To blend in the
washwater of the really stained things. Oh, and I've been amazed at the
foods you have here! Really delicious."

Karimina turns to look at V'lano and then chuckles. "Swooning may be
necessary sometimes but not always. Now tell me bronzerider do you like to
be swoon at." She gives him a sweet smile before returning to Linnea. "It
would be interesting to see a orange chicken, but I don't think that it
would have a very long lifespan with all the its hungry brother and sisters
about on hatching day."

"Oh, stop." V'lano rolls his eyes too, but not in mock-swooning, and he
leans sideways slightly to nudge into Kassima's arm. Perhaps that's answer
to Karimina as well? He tilts his head her way, then notes in all
seriousness, "She's probably quite right. If there -is- an orange chicken,
we'll probably never know. If the hatchlings don't devour it before we even
see it, I'll make sure Volath does."

Kassima supposes in wry humor, "All the food is very colorful, then?
Ah--she sounds like Ofira, back in the day. I miss Ofira. 'Twill never
forget the glorious evening that she banged a flight-lost rider upside her
head with the skillet of death." Drawing herself away from this misty-eyed
reminscence, she asks, "How've things been with your family? I heard you've
a fairly new bairn? Felicitations--and probably on the second, too. Can't
recall if'n I've spoken with you since then," she admits, rueful. "Oh,
right, I've got you. I should've guessed. Although it could've been for a
'lizard clutch or something. Shells, isn't that a thought? The chicken
Hatches and suddenly 'tis all blood and feathers." She nudges Vel right
back, amused and shamelessly so, at least until she affects horror: "You'd
*tell* Volath t'be consuming one of his *own children*? Vel! That's so many
levels of wrong!"

Karimina chuckles and then wades back out of the water. Sighs she gives
those around her a smile. "Well I am off for my evening run." then she is
off towards the end of the bowl.

"Neither do I, really." Ami replies softly, then nods "The food is usually
pretty good, so long as the bakers aren't offended by something. Then it's
usually still fine to the taste, but not the most appetizing over all." she
chuckles then and nods, "There is that. Except I'm not sure the hatchlings
would be up for chasing it down yet. Or has you forgotten meet in bite
sized pieces?" Teasing, of course, "You heard of Alinn? She's doing
wonderfully, thank you. As are my other two, Annili and Galion." Das
rumbles softly then and she pauses, "Seems S'din's looking for me. I'll
need to get Linnea settled and report, I'm afraid."

Linnea raises one brow intently. "Swooning at him? My my. And you'd tell
him you'd swoon for him?" She studies V'lano, as if to decide whether he's
swoon-worthy, but the discussion of dismembering chickens sours her opinion
somewhat. "Eating their own young? That's new to me. I didn't think that
was a common..." But she's all to happy to cease that visual as Amilin
suggests they depart, and again, that posture correction is quickly
righted, Li standing up as straight as she can. "Thank you." And to the
rumbling Dasmareth, another thank you is repeated. Linnea even curtsies to
the dragon, wet skirt and all, before nodding also to the others assembled.
"Good eve. Pleasure to have met you all." Then she turns to follow Amilin,
"As you lead, so shall I follow. Particularly if it isn't up onto the cliffs."

"If it's a -chicken?- How's that wrong?" V'lano turns defensive, though
there's a grinning curve to the shape of his mouth. "How's that even his
child? I tell you, if there's a chicken out there, it's because Lhiannonth
snuck a wherry's half-bit abandoned egg out there under her wing and
dropped it pointy-side down and fooled us all. -- Oh, I'm sorry. I'm
keeping the candidate and I'm supposed to be - well - " The sire's rider's
face turns rueful. He dips his head toward Linnea and finishes, "At least
not in the way. Well met, and thank you again."

Kassima suggests with a flashed grin, "They might be up for chasing it--but
then nay know what t'do with it? That could be a rather entertaining
spectacle. Confused baby dragons, and one *very* confused baby giant
chicken. Your sister mentioned," she adds with a nod, presumably speaking
of Alinn. "'Tis glad I am t'hear it. Oh, a'course--pleasure seeing you
again, Amilin." Now she turns to Linnea, with a soundless laugh. "Methinks
he knows I'd swoon for him. Though if'n nay--well, Vel, now you know.
Surprise?" A quick wink; then, "Pleasure likewise t'meet you, and best of
luck on the Sands and with your sand. 'Tis wrong, Vel, because he should
love or at least *nay eat* his children for who they are, even if'n that
means a giant chicken!" She affects affronted tones for this, which might
be rather more effective if her eyes could stop sparkling so; "Although you
might have a point of a kind; a chicken mayhaps could only mean that
Lhiannonth dallied with the poultry before--or after?--the flight. Oh,
shame. Oh, scandal."

"No cliffs." Ami assures, "Just back to the bowl, and not so far." She
flashes a smile for V'lano, "Your not in the way. Not to fear. I'm a fair
hand at letting people know if they are." With that she gives a quick wink,
then waves at her dragon, "And you can get your smug self up too. Yes, yes.
You found one that likes rocks." She gives another aside to Linnea then, a
found tease for her own lifemate, "Never let it be said that green is
normal." She smiles back to Kassi, "Hopefully it wont be so long between
our next meeting, but it's been good to see you, if only for a minute."
Then, with green in tow, she heads on back to the bowl proper.

Linnea nods sagely, as if she'd just discovered the secret of the universe:
green is not normal, which explains so much. By that token, bronze must not
be either, but for each, she smiles with fond amusement. "Wonderful. Just
remember, as long as I'm not the rock...or, apparently, the chicken. Or the
chicken's dam." Blink blink. "I wouldn't think a chicken could mix with a
dragon. That's an awful size difference...." So babbling, she follows
Amilin out.

Left alone, V'lano leans hard into the greenrider's side, laughing
helplessly. "Chicken dragon," he babbles. "Dragon chicken. Oh, Kassima,
she'll kill me if any of those grey eggs hatch anything other than
something she likes." The bronzerider straightens, his fingers curling a
bit around hers beneath her other hand. "S'been too long here. I'm an
idler, wasting the days away without so much as work to keep me busy, and
then you come along and confuse my head with talk about -chickens!-"

It might be his laughter that touches off Kassima's, or it might be the
sheer absurdity of the situation. Either's plausible. She shakes with no
less mirth than he, leaning back so that they're supporting each other. "A
dragon with giant chicken legs and feathered wings, and a comb on its head,
'twould be!" she announces. "And 'twould crow every morning to announce the
dawn drills! Oh, but she won't kill you. If'n needs absolutely must, 'twill
defend you as best I can from her wrath... although I have t'admit, if'n a
chicken does spring forth then I just *might* be laughing too hard t'be
much use." Easing somewhat out of the merriment--though her shoulders still
give a suspicious quiver periodically--she shifts her hand into a better
position to hold his, giving fingers a warm squeeze. "I have the hardest
time picturing you as an *idler* somehow. Are you getting along all right?
The chickens aside. I'd thoroughly expect their clucks t'haunt you in your
sleep, henceforth."

V'lano's laughter, too, comes to a slow subsidence, and he requires less of
Kassima's support to stand up, so straightens and provides less leaning
surface for her as well. "I don't do well at it," he admits. "I pestered
Josilina today for work, and she offered me some of hers - but in the end I
think if I want it, I'm going to have to go to the wingleaders and offer to
copy their records or something." He pulls a distasteful face and starts a
slow pace toward the bowl, casual-like. "Other than being good for
precisely nothing I do well. And I don't dream of chickens. Just so you
know." There is a grin in that.

Kassima tips her head briefly to rest her cheek against his shoulder before
their respective straightenings, perhaps as appreciation for letting her
lean thus; perhaps more because it seemed to suit the moment. "Do nay
*tempt* me t'be bringing Thunderbolt hidework here and letting you have a
crack at deciphering the chicken-scratch handwriting," she warns him; if
the move Bowlwards surprises her it's only fleetingly, and she keeps her
hand on his arm, content to go wherever he might lead her. "Pshhh. Good for
naught, I'd always contest. Even just being friendly to the Candidates is
doing a service. What," she must wonder, with a sidelong look that's both
amused and genuinely curious, "do you dream of, then?"

"I could give it a try. Just recall I was a butcher - hidework's something
I can manage, but deciphering might not be my strong point," V'lano
chuckles. He pauses at the point where sand starts turning to gritty soil
and lifts his hand from between hers to drift a fingertip across the
greenrider's chin; his smile crooks a bit, but he seeks her brilliant eyes
with his dark ones and replies, "Many things. Good hatchings. Bad
hatchings. Sometimes, of having a proper weyr to ask you to. 
Occasionally - " Here, his eyes sparkle a bit, becoming mischievious. "Of 
cooking a four-course breakfast. Are you staying long?"

"Thus the beauty of the cunning plan. It could keep you busy for *hours*,"
Kassima teases him, "but I could never really do it. You'd be cursing
m'name within a day, and that just isn't something I'm aiming for." At the
touch, her eyes warm visibly; no brilliance lost, but the source just
perhaps may have shifted. "There really isn't such a thing as a bad
Hatching," she promises, dropping her head enough to try and find his
finger with a kiss. "And while much can be said for proper weyrs...
methinks we've done well enough for ourselves within the improper." She
darts an impish look back up to his eyes, saying that. "Goodness.
Four-course? Now that would suggest a serious need of sustenance, wouldn't
it just. You're my host, as I came t'visit you: how long might I stay,
without impinging on your hospitality?"

"So we have," V'lano replies, voice a little rough as her lips find his
fingertip. He replaces his hand on hers after that and resumes progress
away from the lake, pace lazy. "About the same as ever," he replies in a
teasingly adoring tone. "Either til you need to go tell Thunderbolt a thing
or two, or until there's some kind of flight-related riot around the guest
weyrs and we have to go somewhere else to stop laughing and making a
nuisance of ourselves." He offers a wink. "Or until you get sick of my
explanations about what 'after' means - "

Kassima may smile against that fingertip a moment in response to the caught
change in sound, but she demurely resumes their walk without further
teasing of that kind. Verbal, now.... "Be careful in saying that. Our
drills aren't until afternoon tomorrow," she informs with a laugh and
dancing eyes, "which could be interesting t'live up to. Awww, you mean we
can't stick around and mock the poor, dazed chasers?" She pretends a pout,
but not very effectively at all. "You know, that last methinks could take
awhile. Shall we find out," teasing again, but this time her eyes gleam a
shade of green that should be familiar by now as she slides him a look,
"just how long?"

The bronzerider chortles softly at the revelation of late-day drills,
though he doesn't look particularly cowed until the wingleader's second
suggestion that, to his reddening ears, sounds a bit like a marathon. "It's
not nice to mock dazed chasers," he murmurs, as if he's already such the
expert on chase behavior. "But I can think of better ways to spend an
evening, night and day than explaining and re-explaining the definition of
'after.'" He's trying to match her measure for measure with sultry,
suggestive tone, but it's only after he's said this much that the idea of
'after' itself being meaningful seems to strike, and he double-takes those
emerald eyes from the corners of his charcoal ones. "Ah huh," he muses,
game enough while stalling a moment for time. "Well. Maybe we should
collect something to eat in, then. Dash through the main caverns and make
people wonder. Deal?"

If he should happen to glance over at her he might notice that her face
isn't entirely free of color, although she's grinning regardless as she so
often does at having raised red in his. "I can't suggest we mock the
*greenrider*," Kassima protests, aiming for a reasonable tone as if this
made all the logical sense in the world. "You know, though... I think I can
too. Somehow. Some way. Moreover, I find m'self most highly interested in
what your ideas for better ways are. I hope you might be willing t'show
me." Her voice is a low murmur, slightly husky, which might be on
purpose--or might be a side-effect of sorts of her own blushing. "Hmm-mmm.
I'm game for that. We'll snag up all the food we can carry, in as little
time as possible, without even a word of explanation--" It's Supermarket
Sweep gone wrong! "And leave them t'speculate while we find our own things
t'do. Sounds like a plan t'me."

There's a plan! V'lano leans in toward the greenrider to seek a kiss - a
brief one, lest red faces overheat one another from lengthy proximity - and
then picks up the pace, bending their path through the bowl toward the
source of food and drink. "I'll show you, sure," he says in casual tones as
the pair moves on. "Of course, it'll be harder to see what I'm showing in
the dark. You'll have to feel most of it..." And then it's on to
food-swiping. Watch out, Reaches. Telgari freeloaders on the loose.