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It's Not Whether You Win Or Lose


Date:  January 29, 2005
Place:  High Reaches Weyr's Living Cavern
Game:  PernMUSH
Copyright Info:  The World of Pern is copyright(c) to Anne McCaffrey 
l967. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a registered copyright.

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Kassi's Note:  Poor Kassima was doomed to surprises tonight, because
not only was there no giant chicken in the clutch, there was also a 
gold--meaning that V'lano actually *won* the wager they made on 
clutching day.  The problem is, Kassi already collected the forfeit.
Goodness only knows what revenge he'll later extract.  But for now, 
the mood is too good all around for vengefulness, as 'Reachians and 
visitors alike drink toasts to celebrate another glorious Hatching.

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The Log:

You meander into the tunnel to the living cavern.

V'lano strolls in from the tunnel to the bowl.

Josilina strides in from the tunnel to the bowl.

It's a long way from the sands to the living caverns, you see. Far longer
than from the galleries or the dragon ledge. That explains why Josilina and
V'lano take so long to appear - or else it's that they're walking rather
slowly, the bronzerider talking as they enter: "...and that's why I was
trying to climb the wall up to the galleries that one night. It had nothing
to do with the eggs or anything - just arm strength. You should blame
Volath, but I wonder if it wasn't your dragon's idea."

It may surprise no one that Kassi occupies the center of a small knot of
persons from several areas, distributing and collecting marks as well as
distributing and collecting comments: "See, I told you that egg had--" "I
knew there'd be a--" "Didn't I tell you he'd Impress?" "Three marks! Three
bloody friggin' marks!" That last is answered with a gleeful chortle from
Kassi, who would, it seems, be the recipient of the three bloody friggin'
marks.

K'tdan meanders in from the tunnel to the bowl.

Josilina snorts, waving a hand in a dismissive fashion. "Lhiannonth would
never suggest something so ridiculous. Fine. You've explained it, but you
have to admit. It -looked- weird. And you do believe me, right? That those
paint drippings near that egg were just a spill? I never -actually- tried
to paint them." Hearing the calls of the betting brigade she looks over and
smiles a bit crookedly. "Well she looks real happy for someone who just
lost a bet she'd already won." She observes to V'lano in an undertone.

"I believe you," V'lano grins sidelong to the goldrider in a tone which
suggests he doesn't entirely - but there's affectionate teasing in it. His
gaze strays from the loaded feasting tables toward the group upon which
Josilina's commented, looking half-perplexed until the nature of the
cluster and the person in the center. The grin becomes broader, striking an
almost wicked curve to the brackets around his mouth and livening a twinkle
in his eyes. "She does, doesn't she? I guess good marks will make hard work
sound sweeter. And it sounds like she's got good marks to spare."

Kassima turns away from her gathering of fellow gamblers, stuffing mark
pieces into an already pudgy pouch, to spin towards the source of a certain
familiar, overheard voice. Sources of voices; she recognizes Josilina's,
too. "Vel!" she calls first, beaming ear to ear for him. She realizes not
her doom. "Josilina--oh, the clutch was beautiful. Splendid. Marvelous. I
don't just say that because it's made me rich, either, although that always
helps." She gives the belt-pouch a satisfied pat. It's black and
embroidered with red and silver, to match her dress leathers; trust
Kassima. "I've very seldom seen a better." It's at about this point that
she notices that V'lano's eyes are twinkling, ever a worrisome sign, and
she casts him the hopeful grin of a child caught with her hand in the
cookie jar.

K'tdan saunters in, his pale grey-green eyes scanning the assemblage here,
perhaps seeking someone who owes him marks from the evening's hatching.
"Ista's duties to Reaches and her lovely queens," he calls out, apparently
giving up for now. "Am I too late to raise a glase in celebration?"

"I didn't!" Josilina protests, responding to tone rather than words. "I
promise I didn't. Lhia wouldn't have let me, and I doubt Volath would've
either, really. - Hi there Kassima." She's all warm grins for the
greenrider's compliments. "Thank you! Looks like you didn't make out too
badly either. Guess your shell-color matching business isn't so bad." -
"'Reaches duties to Ista." She calls back, turning slightly at K'tdan's
arrival. "Not at all, welcome. Help yourself to food and drink and all."

"I did magnificently. Didn't win everything, a'course; I never do. But! I
did well enough t'be quite respectable. Did you, Kat?" Kassima wonders,
lifting voice and turning merry eyes towards the Istan Weyrleader. "I saw
you there, but--well, distractions." She bounces a bit on her feet.
Someone's still in an excellent mood, for all that the amused-yet-guilty
glance she flicks V'lano suggests she can sense trouble on the horizon.

K'tdan finds a cup and liberates a skin from a table whose occupants are
too distracted with one another rather than giving the wine its due. "I did
well enough this time around," he replies jovially. He spins a chair around
to set a foot on it, then unstoppers the skin to fill his cup. "Anyone?" he
asks, raising the skin.

"You lost one thing, at least," V'lano returns with wry glee. "Telgar's
duties," he offers K'tdan, and slips just far enough from the goldrider's
side to steal up a cup and hold it out with hopeful fingers. "I do believe
you," he notes to Josilina with delight. "It's what you -were- going to
paint that worried me." Still flashing brilliant smugness, he turns toward
the greenrider and muses, "Now remind me of a bet regarding a blue? Better
we settle that first, I think."

"Respectable's pretty... respectable." Josilina says, looking unbothered by
her inability to find variety in her adjectives. "I never give away my
secret projects. And that one was one. A secret, I mean." Her lofty tone is
somewhat spoiled by her continued articulation problems. "Excuse me a
moment-" She steps away from the group to collect a glass of juice. Sipping
it she returns to watch with thinly veiled amusement as Kassima and V'lano
work out their wagers.

Kassima answers K'tdan with an amused, "You always do well. Or so I hope,
else 'tis a poor testament t'my teaching and your gifts. Please? If'n
'tisn't Tillek?" It occurs to her after a moment that this might not have
been the most politic thing; she adds, quickly, "Nay t'malign Tillek. I'm
just nay partial. Um. Um." She may fidget with more anxiety than she
actually feels, since the green eyes locked on V'lano's dark ones have a
decided sparkle. "Well... you wagered that a certain egg, that drizzle egg,
had a blue in it; a half-mark. But it had a brown, just as I predicted. So
you owe me a half-mark. I don't suppose we could say you keep the half-mark
and I keep m'breakfast and we're square and even?" So hopeful she sounds.
Silly woman. A glance is even cast towards Josilina, as if seeking
confirmation of the rightness and fairness of such a deal.

K'tdan fills every cup offered him until the skin will give no more. "What
secrets are we giving away now?" he asks Josilina amusedly. He tosses the
emptied skin on the table and sweeps up his own cup, sliding to sit
straddling the back of the chair. "Nay, it doesn't smell like Tillek,
Auntie Kassi," he replies, then falls silent as Kassima and V'lano enact
their business. He sips the wine slowly.

"Well, I certainly don't want your breakfast -back,-" V'lano laughs,
raising the glass in affirmation before lowering it for a sip. He watches
the black-haired Telgari over the rim while drinking, that light still in
his eyes, then exhales a pleased sigh. "But perhaps I'll have to have it
paid back when I get home." The non-glass hand goes into his pocket,
rustling against clinking mark-chips there until it comes out with the
proper coin. He turns it over in his fingers, its patinaed sides glinting
in the light, then holds it out for the wingleader.

Josilina attempts to hide an amused smile behind the rim of her glass as
that glance is cast. "Don't look at me Kassima. I stay out of betting,
remember?" For her, it's a spectator sport. "Secrets? Oh well that's the
point, that we're not. Otherwise they wouldn't be secrets, would they? ...I
think."

"You'd be the authority, Kat. 'Twill trust you, and thankee most kindly
then for sharing." Kassima first raises her filled glass to the Ista
Weyrleader, then turns to attempt to clink it, lightly, against the one Vel
has raised. "Oh, are you certain?" she teases him, delighting in the game.
Her eyes linger on his. "'Tis only fair. Two breakfasts now, I owe you,
t'be paid after you're back at Telgar--or." There's a brief pause, her
mouth quirking in a wry grin. "'After,' depending on your preference."
There's an inflection on the word to give it meaning that may be cryptic,
or not, depending on the listener. She extends her own hand to claim the
mark from him; clasps his fingers a moment in the doing, if he permits, and
isn't that swift to pull mark and hand away, either. "Such a pity,
Josilina. You might've made a glorious profit with insider information if'n
Lhiannonth would be obliging... methinks, Kat, and don't quote me, but
methinks paint has something t'do with it. And speaking of paint, there
wasn't a single chicken out there. Orange or otherwise. Lysseth was most
disappointed."

V'lano can't help laughing again when Kassima brings up 'after', and his
ears redden a little at the mention, supporting suspicions of cryptic
content. "Or maybe just one glorious breakfast," he suggests with a sly
tone, "the likes of which I can't quite determine at this time. Trust I
will, though, soon." He returns his glass for the greenrider's toast,
though, then notes, "You'd think I could make some profit on insider
information, wouldn't you?" He eyes Josilina sidelong, smirking. "I guess I
missed my chance."

K'tdan holds the cup in his hand, swirling the contents lightly in order to
keep the dregs well mixed. "Your words bewilder me, Josilina, and that's no
easy task as anyone can tell you," he says with a deep laugh. "It must have
been downridght boring for Lysseth then, though quite good for Reaches," he
tells the Telgari, raising his cup up in salute. "To the fine weyrling
pairs of High Reaches," he toasts before draining his cup in one gulp. "And
to feathers and secrets and second breakfasts and the whole lot."

"I don't know how much 'inside information' Lhia actually -knows-."
Josilina admits, then correcting herself, "Knew. But if she did, she
probably wouldn't tell me. Not for betting. It'd be cheating." She pulls a
mournful face for the lack of poultry. "Oh, I know. I was a bit
disappointed myself, would've been an awfully interesting surprise. Having
a chicken hatch out there." K'tdan's admission of bewilderment prompts a
grin from the redhead. "I'm pretty good at doing that, don't take it to
heart. - To the weyrlings. And all those other things - and Ista and Telgar
too." She chips in with nods for the representatives of each.

Kassima's turn for a near-wicked grin, now, revelling in such blushery as
she always does. "Glorious," she repeats. "That may be managed, Vel. You
determine those likes, and you tell them t'me; and we'll see if'n I can't
provide all the glories you could possibly desire." So straight-faced.
Maybe she really is talking strictly about food. All things are possible.
"Ach! And missed another chance. See, that's when you should have claimed
you knew about the gold all along and only pretended t'lose so as t'have
this breakfast of legend made for you later. Tsk. Tsk! Admitting you aren't
omniscient! I despair sometimes." Because laughter is really that
compatible with true despair. From laughter to genuine pleasure, then, in
drinking to K'tdan's toast with a wide smile and murmured, "Here here. Less
boring than disappointing, I fear, for *someone* had promised t'share the
giant chicken with her. Volath was going t'eat the poor thing. Eat his own
son! I'm just as glad I didn't have t'see that, really, for all that I did
in m'heart of hearts hope that the chicken would come." She nods morose
sympathies with Josilina, and then lifts her glass one more time: this,
too, is a toast that she can get behind. "To feathers and secrets and
second breakfasts, t'Weyrlings, Ista, Telgar, and High Reaches, t'giant
chickens wherever they may lurk, and to the triumph of sheer perversity,
because I actually put a mark on Satiet Impressing something."

"Volath," V'lano remarks, somewhat sourly through a dry smile, "Did not
tell me anything useful." The bronzerider savours a sip from his cup and
observes with further wryness, "I think he was actually somewhat
disappointed, secretly, for no chicken. He's about ready to eat one." He
nods sideways to Kassima on that note. Again, echoing of the toast, with
his addition of, "And to safe returns," which surely must refer to the
non-Reachians in the cluster. Another sip, and plainly wearied, he begs,
"Ladies, sir." Maybe just a -bit- of a twinkle at the other Telgari for
calling her the former. "Will you be horribly offended if I do go wash? I
think the heat got to me." He runs a finger over an upraised brow and
overturns it, and while it does not come away damp the curls of his eyebrow
seem to reliven from where the hatching grounds' heat made them flat.

K'tdan looks into his empty cup and sighs. "Alas, as much as I would like
to continue discussing giant chickens, there is much work to be done in the
morning and there was this morning. The sharding SuSu are still a problem,
and it would not be fair for me to foster it all off onto Reye and the Weyr
staff." He stands, spinning the chair around and tucking it under the
table. "Clear skies. Congratulations on a fine hatching."

Josilina blinks, surprised perhaps, at Kassima's last and then grins.
"Sheer perversity." She chuckles before nodding to both V'lano and K'tdan.
"Have a good trip home, both of you. Thank you K'tdan, and say hi to Reye
for me, would you? And good luck with the, er, SuSu. V'lano - well, if I
don't bump into you before you go back, take care and everything. It wasn't
awful getting to know you." Teasing, by her grin.

"Perhaps," Kassima suggests, "part of m'repentance for having collected a
stake too soon could be buying a chicken for Volath. So long as Lysseth
gets a piece, since fair after all is fair," and never mind whether the
chicken would agree. A new sip, to safe returns, before she inclines her
head to him--and shoots him a look that tries to be chiding, and just
doesn't get there. "Never offended, m'*lord* bronzerider," she answers in
exchange with a quick and impish smile. "See you later?" It has the sound
of an offer. "Bloody blazes. Sympathies t'you, Kat. 'Twas at the clutching
and the things were crawling all *over* the place. Including once on Lord
Vorlin, I'd swear I saw. G'luck with it--and would you pass m'regards
t'Kaimi?" She laughs for Josilina's last, and nods for the first, looking
pleased, if wryly so. "Sometimes it profits."

P'ton comes walking in from looking around to find his sister, but she
seems to have hidden herself pretty well from the brownrider.

V'lano nods agreement with the Istan Weyrleader's leave-taking, and turns
to Josilina, an equally teasing grin on his own face. "And it wasn't
complex, really," he replies, "sharing the sands with you." Which is the
same kind of absolute compliment, in the same sort of tone. "Don't think
you're rid of me, yet, though. I have every intent of coming to be a pest
again." A beat, and a thought visibly crosses his face, so he amends and
explains: "To see the weyrlings." A stifled cough, a little red in his
cheeks, and he turns to Kassima. "Of course, ma' - " But it's sheer
wickedness that makes him threaten that title, and he just goes on, "Once
I'm presentable. We'll dine." And then he's shaking his head at the
somewhat icky report of the Istan clutching, and heads out.

V'lano walks outside to the bowl.

"You were at their clutching?" Josilina wonders of Kassima, eyebrows
lifting. "How was it? I mean, besides crawly." V'lano's words bring a laugh
and she waves after the bronzerider. And a belated realization from
Kassima's words, "Vorlin was there?" P'ton, noticed, gets a nod. "Reaches
duties."

P'ton nods his head a bit and he hrms some as he looks around, "Igen's
duties to Reaches and her Queens." he says as he frowns a little, still not
locating his sister before he sighs and smiles, "Congrats on the fine set
of hatchlings you've added to your ranks today."

Despite the highly exaggerated look of horror Kassima throws V'lano for
that unfinished ma'aming, there's laughter and appreciation in it too, and
in her fond comment of, "That man is an *evil* man," once he's departed.
"I'd blame High Reaches for corrupting him, but honestly? Methinks he's
always been like that. Deep down inside. Aye," she confirms for Josilina,
turning her attention fully on the goldrider now, "I'd nay have missed
M'rek's moment. Sixteen eggs--so he's even with Volath there--and lovely
ones, although 'tis hard for aught t'be lovely when 'tis covered with
insects. 'Tis the only clutching I've ever been to where I'd honestly say
'twas kind of disgusting. But don't tell Essieth I said so. He was," said
of Lord Vorlin. "I'd guess because of M'rek's involvement, but he and Reye
seemed t'have much t'speak of, so who's t'say for certain. Duties t'Igen
and her queens, brownrider," she adds to P'ton, flashing him a smile.
"Looking for Amarie?"

P'ton sighs and nods, "Yeah, and she's nowhere to be found it sems. Likely
she's hidden herself away for the evening." he says with a frown again,
clearly concerned for his sister, "I do hope she's not run off, I was going
to take her back with ma and pa, if she wanted to go, but as I said, we
can't find her."

"Thank you." Josilina smiles at P'ton, head tipping to one side. "Are you
looking for someone?" She asks, even as Kassima fills that 'someone' in
with a name. "Amarie?" - "We tend to bring out the evil in people, I
suppose." That's for Kassima, said mock-solemn. "I wanted to go, but I
wasn't able to grab a ride in time. Sixteen? Must be the number of the
Turn." She nods a little, not looking terribly surprised. "Mmm. Well they
met when they were both here. And had a lot of contact and all, I think."

"She didn't seem too upset after Telgar's Hatching, nay the run-away sort
of upset." Kassi tucks a tendril of hair behind one ear. "If'n 'twere her,
I might've caught a ride t'Telgar and gone t'get a hug and a shoulder from
J'len. Or she might've gone straight back t'Herder, I guess, if'n she just
wanted t'get away. Oh, dear, do you?" she asks Josilina with mock-dismay.
"Perhaps I shouldn't drink the wine, then. Faranth only knows what darkness
you might bring out of the very depths of m'soul. Did they? How
interesting. I don't know much about Lord Vorlin's Turns here, t'be telling
the truth. I keep meaning t'pester M'rek for stories, but we usually end up
distracted by getting drunk."

Karimina meanders into the cavern from the lower caverns.

"She might've gone to get cleaned up and such too." Josilina offers for
Amarie's whereabouts. "Don't worry Kassima, I think the darkness-bringing
stuff is in the cookies, not the wine." She assures the Telgari with a grin
before nodding. "Mm-hm. Reye transferred here right around when Vorlin
became the Steward. Right before, I think." There's a soft snort of
laughter for the last, "Great distraction that is, drunkness."

P'ton nods and he hads out to go take his family home

P'ton walks outside to the bowl.

Kassima gives Josilina a suspicious look. "D'you import your cookies from
Minecraft or something?" she 'accuses,' laughing as she does. "'Twill take
note and steer well clear of 'em. You do me a kindness in warning. Did
she... that'd be a point of bonding, then, I suppose? Both being new to the
'Reaches. I recall her Impression at Ista, a'course." She grins for the
snort. "Especially with M'rek. Drinking with M'rek is always colorful. Hope
he finds Amarie," tossed on as a not-too-worried afterthought. "She really
did seem fine after Telgar, though. He probably shouldn't worry. If'n she's
old enough t'be Assistant Headwoman, she's old enough t'take care of
herself, although I'd nay blame her if'n she does need a shoulder somewhere."

Karimina walks in to the Living Carven smiling brightly. A nods is given to
Josilina. "A wonderful clutch my dear weyrwoman." Is given as a semi-greeting.

Josilina's hand flies to over her heart in mock-horror. "Faranth, no! We
may be evil, but we're not -insane-." Any impact her horrified look might
carry is suitably ruined by laughter. "Mmm. Bonding, yes. And I think there
was some issue with missing things... I don't even remember anymore. But
she was here when he was all strange, so yes, that's how she'd know him."
Fantastically clear and helpful, is Jos. "I wouldn't know, but I've heard
-stories-." For drinking. "She didn't seem too badly off when I saw her
leaving the sands. But it's hard to tell - shoulders are good." Karimina
gets a grin, "Thanks Karimina. How're you?"

Karimina eyes the two woman talking as she listens in on their conversion.
"Oh.. good just had to have a little time with Sam." Her eyes sparkled.
"Who isn't okay?" She asks.

Kassima also nods amiably to the arriving greenrider, then chortles openly
at Josilina: "I see you know of the cookies! You can always tell who
realizes their true terror. When he was all strange? You've heard stories?"
Naturally, her curiosity would seem roused by this. "What stories, and what
strange? What stories about strange? I'd love t'hear M'rek-drunk stories.
And Lord-Vorlin-weird stories. And any stories. Amarie," she clarifies for
Karimina. "Only she is, methinks. But her brother was in here, looking for
her. He seems worried. I don't think he needs t'be."

Josilina chuckles between sips of her juice, eyes widening. "-Know- of the
cookies? No! What about the cookies? I just know of the Minecraft." Which
is, apparently, enough. "Not specific stories." She admits. "About M'rek
anyway. Just the general gist. Vorlin stories..." Her eyes roll
ceiling-wards. "There're plenty. Though, admittedly, not talked of much.
We're too busy not-liking him or pretending he didn't happen here."

Karimina nods to Kassima and falls in closer. "Aww.. I hope she is okay,
but if she is with M'rek, then I am sure she will be taken care of. How is
Telgar?"

"For someone who didn't know of the cookies, you made a good guess.
Minecraft Cookies," Kassima intones in all proper, sepulchral tones of
doom, "are what's t'blame for how Miners are. There's something *in them*
that makes those who eat them... like that. Y'know. Going around singing
*that song*. I've heard that with some ale and Those Cookies, Miners are
about eighty percent more likely t'sing *that song*." And with that sparkle
in her eyes, she's about ninety-nine percent likely to be making that up.
"Well, general stories are fine. I don't suppose I can wheedle any
exceptions to the nay-talking rule? If'n I wait t'get all the stories for
M'rek, he'll have eighty Turns a'fore we're through. Oh, shells, did I
misstate? I don't think Amarie's with M'rek." She shakes her head for
further denial. "M'thought is that she probably caught a ride t'Telgar or
Beastcraft, if'n she's nay still here... she was fairly mellow when she
didn't Impress at Telgar, so I doubt she's run away in anguish, which is
what P'ton seemed t'be worried about. Telgar's nay bad, though. A frigid,
frozen wasteland, but that," and she grins, "is nay news."

[Editor's Note:  Karimina needed to idle here.]

Josilina winces a very definite wince for *that song*. "So it's the
-cookies- that're to blame for that? Shards. Did they feed them to the
dragons too?" A shrug is coupled with a grin. "I think you could, wheedle
that is. It's not a rule so much as a... guideline, I suppose. - Frozen
wasteland?" She glances briefly towards the bowl exit and chuckles.
"Nothing wrong with frozen wastelands. But no, I'm sure Amarie's fine. She
didn't seem a mess, earlier."

Kassima murmurs under her breath, "Yo he ho, pick pick pick," just proving
once and for all that she is a sadist. "D'you know, I'd nay be in the least
surprised. One of m'clutchmates was named a Miner Dragon; the shock might
be if'n they *didn't* feed him cookies. Perhaps 'tis just as well he never
produced offspring t'pass on the terrible taint." She's having trouble not
snickering through this at this point. "Well, consider me wheedling, then.
Wheedle, wheedle, wheedle. 'Reachians would understand frozen wastelands
better than most if'n nay better than any, aye... and it doesn't help, let
me just say, when your children want you out *in* the ice t'skate and play
every free moment that you're at home."

Josilina raises her free hand to cover one ear, wince now exaggerated. "Oh,
don't even! Somehow that song became a main feature in my candidacy. I
don't even know how, but between the dragons singing it, or the threat of
them doing it, and the people singing it, and that egg... It's just a
really -awful- song." Wheedling produces a grin that grows to a laugh. "Top
quality wheedling, that. Alright. Well what sort of story do you want? The
one where he was dead? Or how he used to tap at walls and his hair changed
color?" That last bit of information brings a look of vague alarm. "Every
winter? All children?"

"The dragons. Sang. The Minecraft Song." Kassi's horror is not entirely
feigned now. "That's... so wrong. So very wrong. Words do nay exist t'be
describing that level of wrongness. It may even be more wrong than Volath
eating his offspring, 'tis so wrong. What was this egg? I know 'twas at
your Hatching, but...." She makes a rueful face: the foibles of memory.
"The one where he was dead would be interesting. Hair changing color, that
sounds good too--nay every winter, thank Faranth, and nay *all* children.
Just m'hellions. The two youngest, specifically, although
Kisai--m'third-youngest--is a skating fiend. Kazy and Kai, m'lads, don't
feel they get enough playtime with Mum anymore and so are constantly
wanting t'bury me alive in snow and whatnay."

Josilina is doing a very poor job at hiding her amusement. Laugh in the
face of wrongness? "They did. It's... best not discussed. And the egg...
well it was probably just from hearing the song too much, but sometimes the
egg sounded like it was singing it too. It... made more sense if you'd met
it." Nevermind how much sense 'meeting' eggs makes. "Right. Well. We all
thought he'd died, see. When this dead fellow, all mangled, fell off a
ledge dressed all in purple. Which is what he used to wear. And it was
carrying a diary that was meant to look like his, only it was a fake, we're
pretty sure. Imagine our surprise when he turns up Lord of Bitra." There's
some relief for 'not all' and she smiles. "Doesn't sound too bad, s'long as
your bundled up."

Kassima mutters with an only half-affected shudder, "The horror that must
nay be discussed. I can but imagine. The egg... sang?" Well, color her
traumatized for life. "I'm going t'have *nightmares* about that. You do
realize this, aye? Faranth. Where'd that wine go?" She still has some in
her glass, so knocks that back. Fortification. "I've certes heard of his
affection for purple. So mangled that you couldn't tell who... well, that
sounds pleasant. Was the fake diary interesting? And you didn't find out he
was still alive until he was made Lord? He just disappeared, then?" There's
a wry, amused snort for that. "Aye, well, they've a gift for sneaking snow
down the back of m'jacket. But 'twouldn't trade either of 'em for aught in
this world, in the end."

Josilina looks entirely unapologetic. "Nightmares can be good for you.
Keeps you on your toes. Or... something." - "The fake diary was... well,
sort of entertaining, once it was figured that it was fake. And we had
rumors of him being alive, but I don't -think- it was totally confirmed
until he showed up at Bitra. It makes for a weird position, in a way. One
day he's our dead Steward, the next he's a Lord Holder."

"Mmm-hmm. After far too many Turns of m'own nightmares, m'children's
nightmares, everything but m'dragon's nightmares--Lyss would have t'be
*afraid* of something t'have a nightmare--" Kassi adds with something like
perverse pride. "I am nay so adoring of nightmares. What sorts of things
did it *say*?" She'd have to ask. "That's... inherently strange. Mind you,
there isn't much about Bitra that isn't so in some respect."

Josilina's eyebrows draw together as she attempts to recollect. "You know,
I can't remember specifics without looking at it. Which wouldn't be
remembering, would it? Anyway, I think it was a lot about how he liked
people we knew he didn't. Or... something." She shakes her head lightly.
"That's true." Instant agreement for the last. "Understatement really." As
she finishes her juice she straightens. "I really ought to get cleaned up,
I'm a mess. It was good seeing you again - next time we can tell less...
nightmare-y stories. Take care!" And she waves as she makes her way to the
exit.

Josilina wanders outside to the bowl.

"Probably nay, on a technicality," Kassi has to admit. "Sounds intriguing
reading, if'n naught else. Likewise good t'see you, Josilina; hopefully
we'll run into each other again sometime, now that 'twill probably nay be
constantly plaguing your Weyr--" A rueful grin for that, and she waves
after the goldrider before rising from her own seat. "For now, though, I
still do have a bronzerider t'plague. 'Twill have t'go see if'n he's
finished cleaning, himself. Clear skies; g'night!" Then she, too, exits.

You stride outside to the bowl.