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.
============================================================================

July 6-7, 2000.  PernMUSH.  E'vrin's POV.
--
Spring evening, Telgar Weyr.  IC +time unknown.
Cast:  Kassima, E'vrin; M'rgan, Kena.

The baths host a pair of pairs and talk about other pairs, too.
============================================================================
[In the steam baths:]

Lysseth curvettes over the cliffs, wings belling momentarily with the warm updrafts 
from the pools; she furls, to drop, landing delicately next to the water. "G'deve," 
Kassi calls from on high before sliding down. "'Twasn't only us as had the notion 
t'wait for nightfall for soaking, eh?"

Kassima slides down from Lysseth's neckridges to land beside her with ease. Lysseth 
cocks her head at her rider, rumbling quietly as Kassi gives her eyeridges a 
grateful scratching.

Sharath lolls in the uppermost, largest pool, just a bronze blur in the mist. His 
rider is in the pool below it, a smaller, not-as-bronze blur in the same mist. Both 
have their respective eyes firmly closed, but E'vrin calls back, lazy, "Every night, 
by my troth, Kassi, you know that. For my leg and his shoulder. Come join us."

"What in the name of all the stars is a troth?" Kassi wonders, rhetorical, as she 
climbs down to that pool indeed. "I've always wondered. Don't mind if'n I do; we had 
our scrubbings earlier, but there's naught t'beat a good soak after the hides...." 
Lysseth only snorts, at her rider, at the mist, and slides head-first into the 
water's depths. Just call her the Loch Lyss monster.

"Truth?" E'vrin hazards. "Sounds like that word, anyway. Good evening to Lysseth, 
too."

Kassima accords, "Perhaps," and slips into the spring with a sigh; with a wince, 
too, though this probably goes unseen. "*Hot*--oh, she bids the same t'you, and 
t'Sharath a'course, or would if'n she weren't so intent on warming her cantankerous 
hide. How is your leg, and his shoulder?"

E'vrin mmms. "But you get used to it, of course." Doesn't he sound comfortable, 
after all? He peels an eye open; red-rimmed, red-webbed green-in-white focuses her 
way. "I'm fine, and he's fine, if half-asleep. 'Swhy his chin is propped up on the 
rock like that, so I won't have taken my beast from a desert across the sea and back 
again, only to drown in the middle of a frozen wasteland. I'd /never/ live it down."

"'Twould be making a great legend, though, and you'd live on through history--if'n 
likely," Kassi teases, rolling her shoulders back to rest against a convenient 
rimming rock, "as a metaphor for undignified ways t'die. Has anyone told you today 
that you look ruddy awful? At least your eyes do." She adds, with genuine 
ruefulness, "Didn't think I'd been working you quite that far to exhaustion."

E'vrin wrinkles his nose at her and closes the offending eye. "Just looking at 
hides, and I /am/ getting old for it." He sniffs. "Have to get some of those odd 
spectacles the glasscrafters churn out, I expect, after all these Turns of squinting 
at bad handwriting on cracked hide. It isn't you, Kassi," and his voice softens for 
it, reflecting the concern back at her. "Don't fret for that."

Kassima snorts and stretches out a foot to poke at his leg, though not very hard. 
"You're one of the last I'd expect t'be hearing claim he's old. You're nay, and you 
ruddy well know it--but I can sympathize with your plight. Try putting slices of 
cold cucumbers or the like over your eyes; it helps." She smiles, then, the 
expression audible in her voice: "What, you'd tell me nay t'fret about you after you 
fretted so about me?"

"Well, I don't expect you /not/ to fret, see, but I can at least say it." E'vrin 
wiggles a foot back, then pulls his arms in from the pool's rim to wet and warm 
them, too. His eyes slit to half-open. "The archivists did always warn us not to 
look too long at something so close. Must've forgotten that, in my zeal to work 
here." High and lofty is his tone, oh, yes.

Kassima assumes a tone with a great deal more dryness. "Oh, aye, your zeal--we all 
must admire your zeal, Great Archivist, and bow down to your talent with those 
musty, dusty hides...." A chuckle escapes, and she allows herself to sink down until 
the water is just beneath her chin. "In seriousness, your work's admirable, but 
don't bloody well go burning yourself out on me. Then *Leya* would get all the 
hidework, and she'd flay you alive for it."

E'vrin says smugly, "Not if I were in the infirmary, incapacitated and under 
healer's orders to be left alone."

"You don't know Leya," Kassi drawls. "Women who've had children learn t'be flaunting 
Healer orders. Trust me on this."

E'vrin frowns. "I'll recruit Ushu."

Kassima snorts at that, and brings up a hand to flick water towards him. "Then she 
shall have m'help in getting past him, if'n nay flaying you, since Faranth knows I 
owe the old bugger an ill turn or five."

The slitted eyes consider her. "Well, fardles," E'vrin finally says. "Guess I'll 
have to resign myself to being healthy. I'll push more hidework back to you or Leya, 
hmm? And if you splash me again, Kassima, I /shall/ come over there and muss up your 
pretty hair, just see that I don't."

Kassima's eyes gleam with feline smugness, her smile that of a cat who's been given 
fresh cream. "I should try this method of keeping m'riders out of the Infirmary more 
often," she decides. "But aye, aye, or at least trade some of that chicken-scratch--
Leya has the youngest eyes, and I'm certes used to a share of it. As to the mussing, 
you can't--'tis braided still. So I can likely splash you with impunity."

You say "I can /un/braid it. My fingers aren't that soggy yet."

"You could," Kassi agrees. "But 'twould take such a time that 'twould hardly be 
worth it, would it? I could get in several more splashes in the meanwhile."

E'vrin looks downcast. "Suppose so," he sighs, and just stretches out an agile foot 
to seek a ticklish spot instead.

Kassima yelps, and wriggles, trying to escape the foot without losing her precarious 
balance on her below-water ledge. "That's nay fighting *fair*," she chides. And 
immediately leans to try and return the favor.

E'vrin sloshes around, himself, laughing. "Oh, to be an invalid again! You wouldn't 
dare -- watch it! -- dare try this then, I know it."

"Want t'bet?" Kassi challenges, trying for his ribs. "You know I'm a merciless 
wench--though I might be good and stick t'splashing then; you'd wriggle less."

"'Wriggle less'?" E'vrin repeats, a bit breathless, and arches both eyebrows. "All 
right, then; have it your way." And he moves /into/ the tickling, pressing himself 
against her to stop the attack if not quite mobilize her. /Ha./

Kassima attempts to explain, "The wriggling would be bad for an invalid, surely; I'm 
fairly sure they're nay supposed t'wriggle--" Poor invalids, and poor Kassi, pinned 
laughing back against the pool's wall. "Ev! That's foul play!"

E'vrin assures her, "I know," steals a kiss for it, and slithers away. "But you did 
nearly knock my bad leg, so I had to make you pay." He blinks limpid eyes. Aw.

Kassima looks immediately repentant--well, not so immediately as that; she has to 
kiss back first. But *then* she looks repentant. "I didn't *mean* to," she protests, 
exaggeratedly woebegone. "I should be making it up t'you. I could rub your 
shoulders? Or eyes--though I'm nay quite certain *how* t'massage eyes. But I'd be 
willing t'try."

E'vrin grins and flips her a nod. "If you like; who'm I to deny myself the pleasure? 
I was going to offer it for /you,/ though, so I'll just wait my turn." He starts 
turning his back obediently, but tosses back over a shoulder, "And I've some good 
gossip for you, but I'm sure your spies have already told you."

"'Naught could be worse than self-denial,'" quoth the Kassi, gliding close to slide 
her hands up to his shoulders and begin. "So if'n you still feel like offering after 
I'm done, 'twill take you up on it, you may be sure. Do tell? Even if'n they have, a 
new telling's always welcome. Few versions are ever quite the same."

E'vrin lets himself relax into it, and muscles start unknotting already, from behind 
his ears to all the way down his spine. Oh, the life of a harried, hurried 
wingsecond-- "Merielan visited me," he says then, "and said that her classmate 
Terryll is interested in having a relationship with me."

Kassima presses her thumbs to just below the skull's hollow, to soothe tensed places 
in his neck as her fingers knead above the collarbone. "Terryll," she repeats, 
surprise making her pause. "Terryll? I didn't know that you two knew each other that 
well."

"We don't! That's where the gossip comes in." Honest frustration edges E'vrin's 
voice, and even Sharath's near eye flickers a lid at it. "We've talked personally 
perhaps a handful of times, and nowhere near that level of intimacy. A 
relationship... I mean, if she just wants sex, that's one thing; you don't need to 
talk with anyone, get to know him, for that."

"Speak for yourself," Kassi mutters. "--But that's technically true; a bit odd that 
she'd be choosing you for it rather than one of her Weyrling-mates. Which isn't 
t'say aught negative about *you*, only that 'twould think the familiarity would be 
better." She moves her hands slightly downward, focusing on the area of the 
scapulae. "I'truth, it actually sounds t'me a bit like what Saskia pulled with 
I'sai. Did Merielan mention any of Terryll's reasonings?"

E'vrin twitches said scapulae; a frown slides into his voice. "No, no, she just was 
playing messenger. And I couldn't very well pin her to the wall until she cried 
uncle and told me all. Alerith never would've stood for it." He sighs. "I do treat 
sex more casually than you, Kassi, I know, but not /this/ casually, even so. So, 
maybe you should tell me what Saskia 'pulled with' I'sai."

Kassima agrees, almost regretfully, "You can't really kill messengers, nay. Even 
when they tempt you to it, and Merielan's nay that obnoxious." She frowns at his 
back, in remembering. "Well, from what he told me--and you didn't hear it from me--
she went... oh... all *needy* on him, I suppose; she didn't have a relationship, she 
wanted one, and she decided she wanted him t'fill the role. And actually got him 
t'*do* it. Which 'twill admit mightn't have been so bad if'n he weren't already 
weyrmated, and promised t'monogamy, and with Saskia aware of the fact."

E'vrin's spine stiffens, and he twists an incredulous, nigh-outraged look back over 
his shoulder at her. "She did that? Knowing about M'kon? I hadn't thought it was so 
-- cold-hearted like that. She's made it sound -- oh, all fluttery and what-shall-I-
do, as if she were--" grimly he uses that subjunctive, doubting reality "--unsure 
and caught up in the flux of it herself."

Kassima shrugs helplessly, her look back at him one bemused. "T'give her the benefit 
of the doubt, mayhaps she's fallen in love with him, but I still don't think that 
excuses--I *know* she knew about Is and Myk. Is doesn't see it as her trapping him, 
but it certes sounded that way when he tried t'be explaining it. 'Oh, she's so 
*lonely*, she needs someone, she told me....' Aye, certes, she might be lonely, but 
you don't take someone *else's* mate." Her tone turns fierce on the last; her 
fingers, likewise.

"No, you don't." E'vrin wraps a supportive hand around her knee, squeezes warmly. 
"But I suppose Saskia will do as Saskia will -- and I don't know if that's on 
Terryll's mind. I don't, after all, have a mate, myself."

Kassima slips her arms down and around his waist to hug back, lingering a moment 
before resuming her kneading of muscles. "Aye, 'tis so. 'Tis just the decision that 
they *must* have a relationship and will go brazen after some man they don't even 
know that well--I'm nay sure, but I don't *think* Saskia and Is were close a'fore--
t'get it. 'Tis just an all-around odd thing t'be doing."

E'vrin muses, "'Odd,' yes, but poor M'kon, caught in between. Or is it I'sai, caught 
between? It was because of the clutch, wasn't it?" His face, still in quarter-
profile, glints a purely wicked look back her way. "Glad Sharath and I hadn't 
transferred yet, for that flight."

"My pity's purely for M'kon, methinks; I'sai *could've* refused her. He didn't." 
Kassi drops her hands, inquires, "Is that better, now? Oh, aye, that might be for 
the best--though if'n he'd caught, there'd nay be this mess. I can't see you putting 
up with that flutteriness if'n you didn't wish to."

"Much better," E'vrin assures her and leans back to relax head and neck into her 
shoulder's curve. Doesn't even ask first, either: not as if he were /that/ heavy, 
honest... "She asked me once, I think, how I treated the weyrwomen whose golds 
Sharath had caught. Faranth help me if that was some kind of -- interview."

Kassima turns her head just enough to rest her cheek against his temple, amusement 
flecking light through dark eyes. "At least she didn't ask more probing questions 
yet, such as how far your creativity extends in the furs and whether any golds 
Sharath's flown have had any complaints. So it could have just been a random 
question. Should be awhile ere Rinath rises again, anyway--gives me time t'decide 
where t'place m'marks."

E'vrin snorts. "I'll /warn/ Sharath, in case that helps any. Clinging -- can't 
handle that, Kassi. Part of me wants to cling back, and I distrust that impulse. 
Neediness isn't very healthy, I think. Love should be giving, not taking all the 
time."

Kassima quotes, again, "'Taking is too easy, but that's the way it is.' Oh, aye. 
Everyone has their clingy, needy moments even if'n they don't admit 'em, I think, 
but a sound pairing surely can't live like that way all the time; you'd smother. I'm 
hoping T'kar and Merielan get a bit less clingy ere too long, for instance. 'Twill 
start taking bets on when the break-up is if'n they don't."

"Flights," E'vrin reminds her, his fingers now idly describing patterns across that 
knee, circling down towards calf and up onto thigh. "M'rgan is convinced that the 
first flight that parts them will be the test. I think it's simplistic, myself, but 
he could have the right of it."

"'Twas speaking with the two of 'em about flights. About children, really--and when 
T'kar will start t'have some; I've good marks riding on that," Kassi adds almost in 
complaint, encircling his midsection again to trail lazy fingers along sides. 
"Merielan said that he couldn't have children without her. I don't think she likes 
t'be thinking of flights; she certes turned broody when I mentioned 'em, and if'n 
one of 'em's going t'raise a fuss about it, I'll wager 'twill nay be T'kar."

M'rgan walks in from outside the room.
Kena walks in from outside the room.

M'rgan looks up as they enter the cavern, pausing for a moment to stargaze. Though 
the cavern is more protected from the wind and cold than the bowl is, it's still 
more than a little chilly and the man tightens his scarf.

E'vrin shifts his position marginally, so that he's less nestling with Kassima than 
-- well, no, he'll just stay nestled, leaning back into her in one of the upper 
pools, below the lolling dragons. And the conversation continues, with a worried 
edge: "She did say that, didn't she? I thought it so outrageously unreasonable of 
her to say -- she might as well just geld him, hmm?"

"...for whatever that is worth," says Kena as she follows M'rgan in from the lower 
caverns. Upon seeing her fellow Thunderbolters, she shoots off a salute to Kassima 
and then a nod to E'vrin. "Good evening."

Lysseth rumbles to the arriving humans from her floating, soaking place, eyes twice-
lidded and dimly blue beyond. "That would be more *painful*," Kassi points out, "and 
I could've sworn you were the one who protested all gelding comments--Mart, Kena," 
she calls, lifting her own head just slightly. "G'deve. Kena, if'n you don't stop 
that saluting bother, one of these days, I *swear*--"

"Good evening," E'vrin returns politely, "to you both. And I /am/ rather death on 
the emasculation idea, Kassi, yes, but that's what it sounded like, when she said 
that. Told me right there in the living cavern! Unreasonable."

Kena yeahyeahyeahs with a broad smile. She's been saluting Kassima for so long it is 
more habit rather than a conscious effort to annoy her Wingleader. "Who is gelding 
whom?" she inquires.

M'rgan, having pulled off a glove already, fwapfwapfwaps it in the air, in the 
general direction of Kena's back. "How come you never salute me?" he asks with a 
touch of a teasing whine. "Evening," he directs to Kassima and E'vrin with a nod of 
his head and a long, sly look at that nestling.

Kassima sticks her tongue out at Kena, probably also by reflex. "Merielan's gelding 
T'kar, or may as well be, by Ev's argument." Leaning her head back against E'vrin's, 
she mutters, "And 'tis believing it I am. What think the two of you? Will their 
pairing survive the first flight one of their browns wins? Mayhaps if'n 'tis 
*Alerith*, now." The look from Mart elicits one of innocence from her, never mind 
that he surely knows her too well to buy it.

E'vrin, who isn't about to salute anyone or anything by his lazy look, which he 
fences back at M'rgan's sly one, just huffs. "Telling someone that he has to choose, 
essentially, between his weyrmate and having children -- that's just not right. I'd 
almost hope T'kar does sire a few babies around here or elsewhere, just so they can 
clear the air between them on that issue."

"Few pairings survive that stress," M'rgan slowly comments, his eyes darting to 
Kena's back for some reason. "But I have to disagree with you, E'vrin. If that's how 
he's going to handle his problems, T'kar shouldn't be weyrmated."

Kena says, "I believe they'll come to some accord." She glances at M'rgan. "It 
always seems to work out that way in the end. Assuming they want it to work."

"I've a bet on five, m'self," Kassi offers helpfully. "If'n he's promised monogamy, 
then that's well enough--but flight-children are nigh t'be expected, and shouldn't 
be a source of guilt." She nods slightly to Kena then, mussing Ev's hair in the 
process. "If'n so. I hope it does. Merielan will have t'get used t'flights if'n she 
wants any mate who's a rider--t'say naught of having some part of 'em herself, with 
Alerith."

E'vrin agrees, "If they want it to work. I guess I'm impatient on their behalf, 
M'rgan, that's all." He half-lids his eyes at the mussing, looking vaguely smug at 
the attention, but his voice remains focused and clear, even sharp. "Time'll tell, 
time'll tell. I just wonder that they haven't built too many expectations into their 
relationship, right from the start."
You say "And we simply must tell them that we've been dissecting their private lives 
in the baths, of course. They'll be delighted to know that we care."

"There's accidents. Flight accidents," M'rgan comments as he crouches down, his 
fingers working quickly on the laces of his boots as the skin on his hands starts to 
redden from the cold. "And then there's trying to make an accident happen. The first 
is understandable, though probably a problem. The other'll get you tossed out on 
your ear." With the laces now loose, he straightens, to work on the rest of his 
clothes. "Why are you impatient for them? And maybe they haven't built up enough 
expectations...Anyway, Merielan had better not be planning on getting pregnant or 
I'm going to have to have a talk with her."

Kena places a hand on the top of M'rgan's head as he crouches down. "Mart dear, 
don't go charging off after a Wingmate based on some gossip musings."

Kassima makes a disparaging noise. "I shan't tell them--they don't need t'be hearing 
it, anyway; T'kar knows I'm impatient for him t'be starting his Wing duty. I put 
marks on it nay being too many Turns, y'know. Nay like Leya." Such are the differing 
expectations of differing Wingleaders; she quips then to Mart, "'Twill abstain on 
that topic, methinks, with five accidents of varying sorts of m'own. Merielan did 
tell me flat out she's nay planning t'have children for a good, long time--I don't 
think you need t'worry."

E'vrin muffles a yawn into the back of his hand, mumbles, "Her choice, t'have 
babies, anyway. She's taking T'kar's choice away, M'rgan's taking her choice away -- 
well, not really, but you know what I mean."

"I'm not going to charge off," M'rgan insists, rolling his eyes a little. "It's just 
that I haven't given her my talk on the wonderful qualities of timonflower. Aisling, 
neither, come to think of it." His blue eyes narrow with thought and his mouth 
purses. "And I believe that she's been spending a lot of time with T'dan. Hmmmm. 
Hey." He jerks out of his thoughts to look at E'vrin. "T'kar's choice is to be 
weyrmated or not to be weyrmated. If he doesn't like the limits, he should get out. 
Not sneak around." He keeps his gaze on the bronzerider as he says all of this and 
at the end his eyes flick to Kassima and then back to E'vrin meaningfully.

E'vrin lifts his chin, but at the look, not the words. "I know it's his choice," he 
answers reasonably. "You don't hear me calling for the weyrmating to be dissolved 
this instant? They're my friends; I worry about them, that's all. They both drop by 
to talk with me, still, to keep in touch."

Kena lets her hand fall to her side. "Not everyone shares you view of committment, 
Mart dear," she reminds him. She takes a seat on a rock, settling her hands in her 
lap. "Most aren't interested in weyrmating at all. Just casual coupling to help 
remove the stress," she says pragmatically.

"She might be allergic." Kassi's so helpful, really. "Some women are--are you 
wanting t'join the pool on how long ere Aisling and T'dan pair off, Mart? 'Twill 
only cost you an eighth. And there *are* such things as open weyrmatings... though 
I've never personally understood the point of 'em, and I think theirs is a closed, 
so 'tis a moot point." Most of Mart's look might not be directed at her, but that 
doesn't stop her from catching it and offering a brief glare back. "Thankee, Kena," 
she mutters. "I think."

Kena casts Kassima a wry grin.

M'rgan frowns with distaste at Kena's words. "Don't remind me. Which makes it all 
the more important that those that do weyrmate maintain the commitment. To show the 
others how it can properly be done." He pauses in opening the buttons on his shirt 
as he finally notices where Kena is. "You're not going in?"

E'vrin volunteers, "Ryialla and K'nan have an open relationship. She said."

Kassima appends cynically, "About the only thing as 'twould work with K'nan; mayhaps 
this time 'twill work out--honestly, Mart. I'm nay surprised so many Skyfireans pair 
off as soon as they can, if'n only to avoid their Wingleader's displeasure."

Kena shakes her head. "Don't want to get my hair wet," she murmurs.

"Have I said a single word asking that Merielan or Aisling or K'nan get weyrmated?" 
M'rgan asks, his tone more than a touch indignant. "Or I'sai, for that matter. I may 
not approve of those who...how did you say it, Kena...couple to remove the stress 
but I don't tell them to quit it. But if you're going to get weyrmated, you oughta 
do it right. It's the closest thing we've got to marriage after all and we shouldn't 
muck it up." He gives his weyrmate a long look and then shrugs, working on his shirt 
again. "So the reason you wanted to come down here was because I was stinky, eh? 
Fine."

Kena answers, "I changed my mind. That happens, you know," she says shortly. Turning 
her attention to Kassima, she says, "I love having the twins in the weyr, Kassi 
dear. It is nice to have juveniles around who are supposed to act juvenile."

"Nay, nay, but you don't have to--any more than I'd *have* t'encourage m'riders t'be 
spawning frequently. Which doesn't stop me from doing so," Kassi reflects. "Their 
expressions are often priceless, y'know." Too hard-put to hide a grin at Kena's 
latest, she does the wise thing and doesn't try. "Mayhaps someday they'll teach Mart 
the art of chewing with his mouth closed."

M'rgan rolls his eyes and makes a silent "Ha ha" comment at Kena's and Kassima's 
words but for all of that he doesn't seem too bothered since he's not whining or 
moaning or making rude gestures. In fact, he just busies himself with getting off 
his clothes. Once his shirt is off, exposing his oh-so-delicate skin to the cold, 
the rest follows in seconds and he plunges into the hot water before he, or any of 
his parts, becomes an icicle.

E'vrin inadvertently glances at M'rgan at that comment, though he moves his eyes 
away quickly and politely enough afterwards. "Thunderbolts do have to spawn, don't 
they?" he muses into the conversation. "I'm still behind there. L'cher has admitted 
to being frankly ashamed of me. I don't know if that's an insult or a compliment, 
though. --How long are you going to keep those twins, Kena?"

Kena looks surprised at the bronzerider's question. "As long as their mother will 
allow," she answers, her wry smile returning.

M'rgan wipes the water from his eyes and squeezes the bridge of his nose as he 
resurfaces. He takes a second to get his bearings before rejoining the conversation. 
"Let's see. There's 18 turns left in the Pass so...until they're 19."

Kassima nods vigorously. Poor bronzerider; his hair will never be the same. "'Tis 
the Wing's honored duty t'leave offspring left and right. But you'll catch up--and 
L'cher's shame's a compliment, I like t'think; after the last time I refused t'bed 
him, he decided t'write a ballad about me, did I mention? Last I heard, he'd given 
up on looking for a sensible rhyme to 'heart of frozen clay' and was trying t'imply 
something illicit with 'asparagus and hay.'" Quirking a grin Kena-wards, she 
assures, "As long as you like or until they wish t'be leaving the Weyr on their own 
pursuits, whichever comes first."

"Good," says Kena simply.

"After the Pass?" E'vrin directs at M'rgan, and he's trying to look dignified and 
serious, even with his hair (which does need trimming) mussed as it is. "You're not 
letting them go until then?"

M'rgan reaches across the lip of the pool to grab a handful of soapsand and he 
proceeds to scour himself clean, paying particular attention to his underarms and 
the back of his neck. "That's my plan," he says slyly while looking down at the 
water.

Kassima doesn't frown, but her voice is suspiciously level as she asks, "Even if'n 
'tisn't what they want?" A glance is shot towards Kena, perhaps in hope that the 
other greenrider will smack Mart upside the head for her so she doesn't have to 
move. She's comfortable, you see.

Kena generally doesn't smack M'rgan in public, especially if he hasn't really done 
anything to deserve it. "I think Jannea cured Mart of his graspiness, Kassima. I 
can't imagine /your/ children having a problem asserting themselves."

E'vrin mutters something that sounds like, "No kidding."

M'rgan holds up a finger in a 'one moment' gesture at Kassima's question as he 
finishes scrubbing other parts of his body. Scrub. Scrub. Ah. The soap bubbles, and 
hopefully all the dirt, float downstream of him. "Well, Kassi, here's my plan. If 
they don't go along with what I want, I'm going to chain them in a dark room in the 
weyr. And if they still don't do what I want, it'll be bread and water for the rest 
of their lives. That should do it." He says all of this in a deadly serious voice. 
Too serious.

Kena finds a few pebbles and plays 'bop the neanderthal on the head' with them. 
Fortunately, she can toss bags of firestone more accurately than she can pebbles.

"Well, nay," Kassi admits, with an underwater poke to E'vrin's ribs. "That's as it 
should be, then. And, Mart? You really, really do nay want t'know what I'd do to 
anyone who chained up m'children. Really. The E-word is the least of it." There's 
enough levity to suggest that she knows he's jesting, but seriousness reigns 
beneath. "And J'lyn would probably make you wear buttless pants when he got ahold of 
you."

Wiggling unrepentantly from the poke, E'vrin supposes, "It's all because J'lyn's the 
father. Trying to suppress that side of their heritage, prevent a legacy of buttless 
pants from being unleashed upon the world."

M'rgan feigns confusion as pebbles plop into the water all around him. "Interesting 
hail," he remarks. "E-word? E-word. E-word. Hmm. Eat? Ear? Exercise? Erk?" He 
shudders once at the recurring mention of buttless pants. "Sometimes I wonder about 
him..."

Kassima pokes again for good measure, then: come on, bronzer. Dance. "I did m'part; 
I buried the ones he gave me somewhere far, far away, and woe betide anyone who 
finds them. And Mart, I'll give you a hint: it involves one of the things hanging up 
on m'wall. Nay the knives, and nay the whip, and nay the giant tunnelsnake head."

You say "She doesn't want to say 'emasculation' around me since I shouted at her 
last time she did." He wiggles again, then feints a poke back. "Those poor twins. 
Cooped up until Interval..."

"Emasculation? That's it?" M'rgan shrugs several times as if he'd been threatened 
with a feather. "She says that to me all the time. Nothing ever came of it." Made 
obvious during his leap into the pool. "She's just obsessed with it. There's really 
nothing to worry about, you know."

Kena says, "Emascu..." she pauses and glances at the nails of her right hands. Then, 
"...lation."

"I said 'twould be the least of it," Kassi points out, "and I meant it--" Her turn 
to try and squirm away from the poke. "Oh, behave," she mutters to Ev. "They shan't 
be cooped up if'n I can help it, I promise. Nay entirely."

E'vrin blinks drowsily at Kena, and her nails, then rests his chin on Kassima's 
shoulder. "They'd get out, even if you were serious about it, M'rgan. Children 
always find a way."

Kena laughs softly at E'vrin's words. "Imagine children running away," she says, 
emerald eyes intent on her weyrmate.

M'rgan gives himself a quick sniff and then, bracing himself, hops out of the pool 
and grabs up the heavy towel he brought with him. A few seconds of quick wipes at 
the water on him and he buries himself in it. But his nose and mouth still peek out. 
"You know, despite this reputation we seem to have for child torture, folks 
certainly seem to trust us with their children."

Kassima chuckles under her breath. "You should see Kris wriggle out of Simaeva's 
clutches when he decides he isn't ready for it t'be bedtime yet. And he's nay even 
as bad as the others--well, Mart, let's just say I trust m'children t'get the best 
of you if'n you try torture. Plus, I doubt Kena'd let you get away with it."

"I think Jannea has turned out okay," M'rgan mentions as he starts to take off the 
towel. "Despite my being involved in her upbringing. And the twins will turn out 
okay. Despite having J'lyn as their father. And I don't see them running away." He 
casts a look back at his weyrmate and then flicks off the towel, becoming a flurry 
of movement as he tries to get his clothes on before he freezes to death.

Kena rises from her seat on the rock. "I guess it is time to bid you both g'night," 
she says.

"Good night," E'vrin returns, as politely and promptly as he'd offered greetings. 
"Sleep well and all. This steam probably helps for that. Relaxes you."

Kassima mutters something about certainly hoping that they'll turn out all right, 
and without buttless pants, then bobs her head to Kena in turn. "G'night t'you both 
as well, then, and regards t'your lifemates--give the twins a hug for me in the 
morning, would you?"

M'rgan shrugs into his coat and grins at Kassima's question. "Every morning. And 
every night. They know who their mother is, Kassi." He nods and gives E'vrin a 
friendly smile while backing away from the pool. "The crazy greenrider in 
Thunderbolt."

Kena has disconnected.

"You're implying that there's only one?" Kassi asks with mock-astonishment, though 
she grins at the information. "Thankee, then. I'll be over t'spoil 'em with more 
sweets someday soon, you can be sure."

M'rgan walks off towards the Inner Cavern.

[At which point I had to leave, too, so we decided that Kassima and E'vrin
 spent the night together, or didn't:  we didn't worry about it.  Log ends.]