The World of Pern(tm) copyright (c) 1967 by Anne McCaffrey.
The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a registered copyright.
An online session, recorded by permission of the author for the benefit of
members unable to attend.
============================================================================

June 20, 2000.  PernMUSH.  E'vrin's POV.
--

Your location's current time: 20:44 on day 11, month 1, Turn 32, of the Tenth Pass. 
It is a winter evening.
Cast:  Kassima, E'vrin.

Fallout from the testosterone silliness from the other night - and other
things.  Annotated.
============================================================================

Sharath> Lysseth senses that Sharath's mind flirts flamed inquiry closer, closer 
yet: you there?

Dragon> Sharath senses that Lysseth refracts flame through spiring facets, glinting 
from face to face. She's present and accounted for.

Sharath> Lysseth senses that Sharath wonders, then, amid the fire and the dazzle, if 
her rider is, too?

Dragon> Sharath senses that Lysseth replies to that with a raven flicker--oh, yes, 
the rider is in. << She wishes to Have Words with yours, >> green warns, the 
emphasis clear in sharp flares.

Sharath> Lysseth senses that Sharath slides closer in body and mind, his inner fire 
all but purring with delight: << How lovely. He wishes the very same with her. And 
so -- we come. >>

You fold your wings and land on Lysseth's ledge, then make your way into the weyr 
proper.
You slide down Sharath's shoulder and foreleg to the ground.

Lysseth is couched not in couch, but out on ledge, and offers a cloudy-breathed 
whuff of greeting to both man and dragon. Perhaps particularly dragon, as the call 
from within particularly greets man: "E'vrin. How fortuitous that you should arrive 
just when 'twas considering calling for you. Come in, if'n you please."

Sharath isn't above whuffing back before reposing into a quiet sphinx-mountain on 
the ledge. That leaves his rider, the brave brave Sir E'vrin, to continue on into 
the weyr proper, following the trail of that voice. "I'm here, Wingleader," comes 
his answer, light enough. "What would you have of me?"

Bravely bold Sir E'vrin went forth into the weyr. He was not afraid to die, oh, 
brave Sir E'vrin... it's probably all for the best that no minstrels are present. 
There's only Kassi, her desk-chair turned to let her face the entrance and the man 
arriving through it. "An explanation for a certain act of rather improper 
behavior," she replies, clipped. "Take a seat, if'n it please you t'do so."

E'vrin looks stern enough to be ready to eat any minstrels lingering in the area, 
anyway, so just as well. He seats himself without fuss, folding his hands on his 
lap, and asks straight off, "I trust you got the hidework all right from the other 
night?"

Kassima inclines her head in acknowledgment, the glowlight giving her hair faintly 
greened highlights. "Aye; it was quite acceptable, thankee." A pause. "This isn't, 
as you may have guessed, about the hidework."

E'vrin meets her gaze steadily, but the lines of his shoulders, jaw, hands remain 
relaxed. "That foolishness in the living cavern with the young ones."

"Nay *quite*, but you're getting there." Kassi steeples her fingers just below her 
nose. "I'm referring t'your public implication of worthlessness on m'part, the lack 
of proper protocol in which could have endangered Wing morale."

[He referred to "depressed wingleaders"; the implication /was/ clear.]

E'vrin doesn't blink. "Yes, Wingleader."

Kassima lifts black brows. "D'you have an explanation for me?"

"Explanation? Surely. Is that what you want?" E'vrin asks.

"If'n you'd be so kind." Kassi pauses again, allows a thin smile to cross her lips. 
"Of both the comment itself and why you decided t'be making it in public rather than 
bringing your grievance t'me privately, as would have been proper."

E'vrin's shoulders twitch, then he lets them complete the motion: a shrug to match 
his darkened, dampened tone. "The brandy had made my head swim; I was having a hard 
time determining what I was thinking and what I was saying out loud. I apologize for 
making an inappropriate comment in public."

[But only "in public":  he's not sorry for saying it in the first place.]

Kassima taps her thumbs together, watching him with eyes darkened nearly to black. 
"That is nay a problem t'which I am unsympathetic. But for the sake of the Wing, who 
can't afford t'be having doubt in its leaders fostered by another of its leaders, 
comments such as this must never be thrown about lightly. I'm of a mind t'assign you 
t'aiding the Wing's injured members with their mucking for three days." She raises 
brows again. "D'you find that acceptable?"

You say "Yes, Wingleader."

Kassima nods. "All right. Now explain the rest."
Kassima adds, "'Tis a serious allegation you've made. Wingleaders who've lost their 
usefulness are honor-bound, after all, t'be retiring."

E'vrin half-hoods his eyes. "Is that what you've been thinking?"

"'Tis what you said." Kassi's voice holds a steely ring. "Depressed Wingleaders arer 
worth naught 'tall, I believe was the gist of it. I want your reasons for saying 
this--or thinking it, whichever you prefer."

E'vrin asks, brows rising over calm eyes, "Besides your holing up in your weyr most 
of the day, hitting the bottle again, and not being willing to circulate with the 
rest of us mere Weyrfolk?"

[The opening volley.  A warning shot off the bow, if you will.]

Kassima prompts, "And this has precisely what t'be doing with m'duties? Do I slight 
m'work? Do I bring deaths about in Fall through carelessness? Do I fail t'be working 
t'perfect our skills in drills and exercises? I have endeavored t'do none of these 
things. But if'n I've failed, then I'd like t'be knowing it so I can be letting 
someone else have the burden and taking me and mine back home."

E'vrin sits in pensive silence. "All right," he finally says. "You make sense. 
You're correct. I'm not. Do I have permission to leave, Wingleader?"

[He was getting quietly angry.  Kassima was not so quiet:]

Kassima stares at him. Stares. Then-- "Bloody *shells*," she snarls abruptly, 
bringing a fist down on the arm of her chair. "Aye, shardit, you can leave if'n you 
want, but I'd like t'know just what crawled up your pants-leg and died on this 
subject. Another time, if'n you prefer. I have a hunch 'twould come up again whether 
I wanted it to or nay."

E'vrin goes unblinking again. He's a mask, a statue, stone. "I'm yours to command, 
Wingleader."

"To the Star with *that*." Kassi glares, an endeavor to which bloodshot eyes lend 
themselves well. "This has naught t'do with me as Wingleader; you just admitted as 
much. And bloody glad I am t'get that cleared up--I am nay, just in case there were 
doubt, fond of being insulted when it comes to m'work. This is *personal*. So cut 
the Wingleader nonsense, man."

[She wasn't at her best, perhaps, because of insomnia.  And here comes E'vrin:]

"You aren't fond of being insulted when it comes to your work," E'vrin repeats after 
a long moment, spent head-bowed in homage to her indignant anger. His voice -- ah, 
his voice: starts to rise with the faint sing-song cadences of a harper trained to 
satire. "No more fond of it than I am of hearing you threaten bodily damage to me, 
to my friends, in the living cavern, under the auspices of a wingleader's duty to 
punish her inferiors. A lovely thing, that knot on your shoulder, isn't it?"

Kassima's knuckles turn white as her fingers clench the arm-rests, straightening out 
again under force of will. "That," she says in a low voice, far enough back in her 
throat to just be audible, "was facetiousness. A jest. As you know. As you knew. Or 
*should* have known--I remember quite distinctly in your letters where you said you 
do nay take these threatenings of women seriously, so don't even claim I had nay 
reason for expecting you t'be thinking so. How *dare* you claim me t'be some sort of 
tyrant?"

E'vrin lashes back, his head /snapping/ back and his teeth peeling back from even 
white teeth, "It's a fair bit different when one's faced with the threat, however 
facetious, from one's superior, who claims to be so worried about wing relations and 
appearances. How d'you think it made me look in front of everyone?" His voice slides 
into high mockery: "'Oh, that E'vrin, yeah, Kassima tapped him for her 'second so 
she'd have a dog to kick around at her whim. I mean, just look at how he rolls over 
for her.' --Which I /do/ -- do roll over -- because I know that arguing with you 
about it, in public, is bad for the appearances you care so much about, over your 
own wingsecond's feelings."

[This surprised me; I hadn't realized that the resentment was running in that
 direction.  Absolutely he's ambitious, but I'd thought he was content to
 serve under Kassima.  Which, I think, he is, as long as she's not using him
 for a verbal punching bag (however in jest) in public.  He's prideful, too.]

"Fine! That's just damned, fragging *fine*! 'Twill nay threaten you, 'twill nay jest 
with you, 'twill nay *talk* t'you outside of business if'n that makes you *happy*," 
Kassi snaps in return. "If'n you think I'd have tapped you as 'second for any reason 
other than your abilities, you can just bloody well throw that knot away in the name 
of your pride. The Wing will be poorer for it, but I don't expect you t'*believe* me 
on that. To the Star with it--with *all* of it." The desk chair tumbles to one side 
as she jerks to her feet, turning her back and stalking a short distance away to 
take a few slow, deep breaths.

[Begin Stage 2:]

But, oh, E'vrin is not finished. He is not close to finished. Rising, he lets his 
voice rise with him, angrily controlled, on the next lash: "And /how,/ Wingleader 
and friend mine, do you think it makes me, or any man, feel to hear that particular 
threat leveled? You /know/ I've been wrestling with sexuality issues for much of my 
adult life; you also know that I've been going frantic trying to figure out why 
Sharath isn't rising to the greens lately. Is it me? Is it him? Is it our 
wingleader, so casually dropping the word 'emasculation' into public conversation?"

[So, she not only insults him in his basic human pride, but also as a man,
 even /if/ in jest.  The whole 'Emasculator' thing has never, ever sat well
 with him; he suspects dark reasons for why she tolerates, even encourages,
 that particular grisly joke.  More on that later.]

"*You*?" Kassi demands, caught mid-breath and sharp with scorn. "You? You have women 
all *over* you, all the lovers you could possibly want and probably then some; you 
know bloody well there's naught wrong with *your* sexuality--I don't know what's 
kept Sharath on the ground; for his sake, I wish whatever 'twas would be cleared, 
but *me*... you're just in one sharded hurry t'blame me for everything, aren't you? 
I'm incompetant as a Wingleader, I've infected Sharath with celibacy--next you'll be 
claiming I'm the one who got you injured in the first place."

[Stage 3:]

"No," E'vrin replies nastily to that last, "but I wouldn't have put it past you, if 
you'd been around. /So/ self-centered are we tonight, or is it every night? It's all 
about Kassima, as usual. I thought that'd be different, when I came back from 
Southern and came here. You've just dug yourself in deeper. But, hey, at least 
you've got your precious knot and your precious work and your precious liquors -- 
booze of a thousand flavors and strengths! -- to keep you company, right?"

[Accusing her, again, of being self-centered.  Absorbed in her own problems,
 O woe, and not doing anything to fix them.  /He/ goes out and fixes his
 problems (usually), so there's a bit of condescending scorn here which, mixed
 with the aforementioned ambition, really does get nasty.  Should he be the
 one to lead the wing, after all?]

Kassima whirls about, the glows catching the silver tear-streaks that mark a thin, 
pale, angry face. "My *life*," she hisses, "is about m'Wing and m'dragon and 
m'children, you bastard. I work so m'people won't die and I drink so I won't grieve 
for them or m'wasted life when I should be working--how *can* you stand there and 
say I think of naught but m'self? What would you have me do? Help you? You've never 
asked it! And as t'me causing you injury--I'd nay do that, nay even now, when I'm 
closer t'hating you than I've ever been."

[He got the reaction he wanted, anyway (rather, I did):  not hiding, admitting.
 For once, and with honest feeling.  So, he pulled back a little, started
 shifting ground, though there's still that superior tinge to his manner.]

E'vrin mimes a hurt look. "Just because my parents never wed -- cruel, putting that 
holder label on me. 'Bastard.' I'd hate to hear it attached to Kris. But," and he 
smiles, a thin curve with nothing of humor in it, "it /is/ nice to hear that you can 
hate, at least. It's an emotion. I'd been wondering if you felt anything, these 
days. Good. Very good. Now you stand a chance about doing something to un-waste your 
life, I think."

"I can't hate you. Sorry t'disappoint." Kassi twists back around, head lowered and 
shoulders hunched. "I meant bastard in the colloquial sense. You know. The one used 
t'describe persons who get their kicks out of twisting the knife. D'you want me 
t'loan you one and show you where t'find m'heart so you can quite finish the job? 
And you leave my son out of this--and don't you *even* be trying t'claim I don't 
feel love for him. *I* am nay the one who didn't come t'see him for over a Turn when 
he was a babe." In a nasty tone to match his, "I'm sure you remember."

[Which really was not fair, which means it was.  --OOCly, well, I was kinda on
 hiatus, but I don't mind my char getting pinned to that problem of mine, if
 it advances the rp.  We all suffer for our art.]

Blood drains from E'vrin's face, only to flush up again all the stronger, and it 
takes a trembling effort, visibly, not to stride forward and -- and-- "That's fair 
enough," he answers evenly. "I deserved that, being so caught up in /my/ wing duties 
at the time. Work can really suck your life away, can't it? And it's cold 
companionship in return."

Kassima steals a look over her shoulder, though she at least has the grace not to 
gloat outwardly at that reaction. Either that, or she's too infuriated herself to 
think of doing so. "Aye, it can. I've never been denying that. But I really can't 
imagine why you associate work with a lack of companionship, after Sabra, and Laila, 
and Kichevio, and however many others. Stick t'what you know, m'dear. Work-imposed 
celibacy isn't it."

"I'm not celibate," E'vrin says after a minute, and folds his hands behind his back. 
Perhaps they're safer back there. Perhaps she is, with them there. "Never claimed to 
be. It can be an unnatural state, for some people, after all."

[He was thinking, in that minute, that she'd left off a few names. :)]

"So how would you know?" Kassi asks with sickly sweet reason. "Whether work causes 
celibacy, I mean. Actually, you would, since it doesn't, for you. But it can be the 
natural state for some people, after all."

You say "Apparently."
You say "I've seen how happy it's made you, too. What do you think about Ryialla and 
K'nan settling down together?"

[The most recent, relevant example of pairing off.  I used it because of the
 OOC knowledge that there are those who have been prodding Kassi with the "you can't
 be happy if you're not weyrmated" stick, though Ev doesn't know it.]

Kassima replies, clipped, "Methinks 'tis bloody foolish. He's had four weyrmates, 
hurt by two and hurting two--Ryi's asking t'get burned, and so is he."

E'vrin shrugs. "They seem happy."

"Then may they have the best of it, as long as it lasts." Kassi mimics the shrug, 
slowly turning to face him again. "Mayhaps they're truly in love, and will be 
together forever; I'll be naught but glad for 'em if'n they are. I just have 
m'doubts."

E'vrin ventures gently, "And you're not at all jealous, or wistful, about it, for 
yourself."

[And if she'd agreed with that denial, he would've walked out, and part of
 their friendship would have ended right there.  He cannot abide this
 hiding and resignation of hers; it smacks of self-pity and surrender,
 which smacks of defeat and death, and (selfishly) he's had quite enough of
 that around him, thanks.]

Kassima gifts him with a sliver of smile, thin-lipped. "'Tis human nature t'envy 
what you can never have--and purely foolish. If'n I've moments of that, I do m'best 
t'dismiss 'em." Or drown them.

This blind, stubborn escapism brought to you by the Booze Council. E'vrin's frown's 
brought to him by memory, perhaps. "I don't like it," he finally says, simply. "I 
don't know that I want to serve under and for someone who does that."

[Honesty.  Daring her:  he'll be honest if she will.]

Kassima drops her head, rubbing at reddened eyes with long fingers. "E'vrin," she 
says finally, "I realize you'll probably just insist I'm being self-centered again, 
but don't you think 'tis a *bit* much to expect for me t'continually tear what's 
left of m'self into raw, bleeding strips just t'keep a good Wingsecond for m'Wing? 
It has naught t'do with m'*work*. You've never seen me at drill or Fall either drunk 
or hung-over, and you never will."

[Looks like she will be, though - though it could be more.  Well, all in good
 time.  Rome wasn't built in a day.]

A breath, a silence, and E'vrin's ghosted up behind her. "It isn't self-centered," 
he answers, kind and low. "I said that -- oh, I don't know. I was, and am, angry 
with you about being so casual with the emasculation comments, especially in public, 
and I suppose it carried over. But ... but I wish you'd give in a little more, 
Kassi. You can't be strong and alone all the time. It'll kill you quicker'n Thread, 
don't you know that?"

"'Tis something I've always done," Kassi murmurs wearily, not opening her eyes. "All 
part and parcel of the person I warned you long ago you didn't know. But 'twill 
remember nay t'be saying aught when you're about." Now she lifts her head, and 
twists he neck to smile back at him, half bleak and half genuinely amused. "I could 
rather wish 'twould. But it won't--'tis how I've been for nigh all of twenty Turns 
now, and I'm still breathing."

"For now," E'vrin says dubiously and studies her.

Kassima rolls her eyes up towards the ceiling and offers one wrist, using the other 
hand to wipe surreptitiously at salt-crusted cheeks. "You'll find a pulse," she 
promises, droll.

E'vrin suits action to promise, then, placing his first two fingers against the 
profferred tendons. "Will I?" he asks, dark, and if old fire leaps briefly in his 
eyes at the touch -- well, what of it?

[The flare of desire surprised me, too, and it surprised him; but given the
 context and subtext swirling around, it shouldn't have, and he and I went
 with it, playing it out.]

The vein streaking blue through that white wrist obediantly pulses--a bit rapidly, 
perhaps, at the familiar touch, but certainly steady and easy to feel through thin 
skin. "Do you?" Kassi asks quietly in turn.

"Well, what do you know," E'vrin says. And doesn't remove his hand. Or his gaze, on 
hers.

[Ball's in her court.]

Kassima meets green with dark green, lashes dropping to veil her gaze in black. "I 
am alive," she confirms--then, abruptly, allows a flickering smile. "Alive enough 
t'be tempted. Who would have thought it?"

E'vrin's hand curls around her wrist, but it's no shackle, no jess. It's warm. "Not 
you, I take it. Is it lecturing of me to say that I think you need to take some time 
off from spending time alone?"

Kassima sighs at the warmth, and leaves that wrist where it is--with the warmth. 
"Perhaps," she concedes, "but I can handle being lectured." She raises the other 
hand to lay a finger against the end of his nose, brushing mouth. "But I can't 
handle being... only pitied. I do have m'pride. Is it pity that's behind this, 
m'dear?"

[Of course it is, in part.  He used to look up to her.  Then he looked across
 at her.  Now, a little, he's looking down at her, a state that'll have to be
 adjusted back to middle ground; but again, all in good time.]

The mouth parts enough to catch at finger's tip, lipping it, ending with a tongue's 
thoughtful wet flick. "No," E'vrin says, intent, amused despite it all. "No, it 
isn't pity. Gratitude, maybe, that you decided /not/ to wield your Emasculator on me 
after all."

[Amused at the situation and himself in it, not her.  See above comment.]

Kassima catches a brief breath, and steals that hand away to wrap around the curve 
of his neck. "Would I do that?" she asks, affecting a moment of wide-eyed 
innocence--quickly overridden by a hint of laughter. "'Twould be counterproductive. 
I prefer t'have m'Wingseconds mostly in one piece. That's more sensible, don't you 
think?"

"I'd hope so, and not just for the obvious -- present -- reason." E'vrin slides a 
reciprocating arm around her waist, but doesn't bring her close, not yet. He's still 
studying her. "You do understand how that remark hurt me, don't you? No man could 
hear it and not be hurt, I think. It made me wonder, for a moment, if you hate my 
sex so much as all that: jokes are truths we don't want to admit flat out, or so my 
mother always says."

Kassima lowers her dark head; slowly, she shakes negation. "Nay, I don't hate men. 
There have been times I thought I could--but it passed, always. I'd never thought 
'twas aught but jest a'fore--Mart, he's always being insufferable, and I took up 
barbing him in turn. Only that." Her eyes lift to meet his ruefully. "Once, a man 
asked me t'be castrating another man for him in seriousness. I've never been more 
dismayed."

You say "Well. I'm glad of that, at least. I know you're not heartless -- and I know 
I'm a bit sensitive at times." Rue curves his mouth more warmly than the last, thin 
smiles. "So it goes. I'm so ... content with this, Kassi. Wingsecond, being a part 
of Thunderbolt and Telgar, helping and being helped -- and I was afraid, the other 
night, that you'd take it all away because I was silly on brandy. I was afraid, so I 
got angry and said something I shouldn't have, although I meant it. But I'm still 
sorry."

"Some would argue the heartless point," Kassi wryly quips, "but I prefer t'think 
you're right--and, Ev, know this." She seeks to hold his eyes, earnestness 
lightening them further from black. "I've m'faults. But I don't take positions well-
earned and well-filled away because of personal pique. You can hurt me all you like 
and stay Wingsecond... just don't hurt the Wing. Nay that I believe you would."

[Given how much he just laid out for her, about his personal happiness and all
 that, it wasn't matching intimacy to assure him of professional stability.
 She could've matched him, confession for confession, and he'll nurse quiet
 regret that she didn't.  Must he always be the one to share his heart more?]

E'vrin steadies a breath. "No. I wouldn't." He rests close to her for a moment, in a 
loose embrace. "I'm /happy./ I won't do anything to upset that, and I know you 
wouldn't, either. So--" he pulls back, quiet and somber "--where do we stand now?"

Kassima slips her arm down to wrap loosely 'round his waist, resting her cheek 
against him in that close moment. "I'm glad that you are. I've always wanted you 
t'be happy--well," she amends in rue, "apart from when I was angry just now. Forgive 
me for that." Straightening, she suggests, equally sober, "I could say that we stand 
in the middle of m'weyr together, but you'd likely smack me. You tell me?"

"Hmm," E'vrin ponders aloud for a moment, then shrugs and dips his head, twists it, 
slides it into practiced place -- for a kiss.

Kassima leans in, returning it hesitantly... but only hesitantly for a moment. "This 
is a good place to stand," she draws back enough to murmur at length. And with a 
flicker of humor: "If'n you want t'stay standing."

"Not particularly," E'vrin admits, still quiet. His eyes are shuttered with lashes: 
looking down, or simply closed. "But are you willing -- ready -- to have me as a 
lover again? I know you want more than that, and I know I can't give it to you. 
We're friends, and we ride together. I am not the love of your life."

[Returning to the previous comment about E'vrin sharing his heart more - it's
 funny.  Kassima does want a Love of Her Life, and Ev does not, but Ev may be
 more likely to get one, did he want it, /because/ he opens up more to people.
 look at how many friends and lovers he's had, and has now.  Offering intimacy
 to someone is a powerful attraction to that someone, and one has to be willing
 to give in order to get - something Ev learned at Igen, from Sabra and others.]

"I do," Kassi confirms, closing her own. And, "You can't. I know. There will be nay 
love of m'life; I know that, too." No bitter self-pity, only quiet acknowledgment of 
fact. "I didn't intend t'be having less; mayhaps I shouldn't, but... I'm tired of 
being alone, Ev. Very tired indeed." She offers a wistful smile, perhaps unseen and 
still unseeing. "I suppose I'm weak after all."

E'vrin threads a hand into her hair. "There's a time for weakness," he counsels, 
"just as there's a time for strength. A willow survives by bending with the wind 
that knocks down all the tall, proud oaks. I'm a willow, and a coward, too, but ... 
I'm still here, and I'm happy. What about you?"

Kassima draws her hands back--not away, only to use them in tugging free the leather 
that binds her braid and untwine it until said hair ripples midnight to mid-calf.
"Being afraid of being a coward has perhaps made me a worse coward than most," she 
muses, curving arms back around him. "And if'n you're willing t'be with an oak who's 
already lost a branch or three, I'm willing t'be with a willow."

E'vrin says, "We'll have you bending with the wind before you know it," and kisses 
her again, while burying his hands in that glossy luxury of black.

[He meant it in the psychological/emotional terms of the previous context--]

Kassima tightens her hold on him, hooking fingers up around his shoulders. "Teach me 
t'bend properly, do," she encourages against his mouth, taking a step back towards 
the classroom--of a sort--that waits.

[. . . but if she placed it in the present, sexual context, that was okay, too.
 --We decided that that was a good last pose, and stopped.  The couple spent the
 night together, and the next day, it was business as usual.  The ripples of the
 stones tossed into the respective psyches, here, remain to be seen.  Log ends.]